Doyle grabbed a fistful of Arielle’s hair and she yelped. “I’m not paying you to sit around and talk to your friends, whore. You cost me money with all the time you’ve wasted hiding in here.”
The same greed she’d seen in Beron’s eyes echoed in Doyle’s when he looked Orelia over. An unsettling smile twisted his face. “Are you going to reimburse me the coin for her wasted time, girl?”
Orelia pulled the purse out of her pocket, hoping she’d have enough. Her fingers trembled, and she dropped the pouch on the ground.
Doyle pulled on Arielle’s hair harder. “I don’t have all day.”
She hastily poured the coins into her hand and offered them to him.
He swiped the money from her. “This isn’t enough.”
“How much do you need? I know someone who can get you more.” Her voice strained.
“More than this. You either pay up now or get painted. Take your pick.”
Her stomach dropped. “What?”
Doyle flung Arielle onto the ground, and she landed with a hard thud. “What’s it going to be?”
Orelia backed away, panicking. “No, no I can’t—”
“Seize her,” Doyle said.
The guards grabbed her arms and pulled her toward the door.
“Please, Doyle! She didn’t do anything!” Arielle pleaded. “I’ll make up your money, I swear!”
Doyle followed the guards taking Orelia down the hall, ordering Arielle to get back to work.
Orelia thrashed, but their massive hands gripped her tight. Too tight. She pleaded for them to let her go, her feet barely skimming the floor as they dragged her along, but the men were unfazed. Whenthey stopped in front of an unmarked door, Doyle stepped in front of her.
“Get her dressed and have her painted in the foyer. I want everyone to see my new filly on display.”
fourteen
Orelia kept begging theguards to let her go, but the batalins were having none of it. They shoved her inside the room and closed the door, locking themselves in with her.
“Strip,” one of them commanded, crossing his bulky orange arms. Weapons sat on his body in every place one could store a blade, and cruel, orange eyes said he wasn’t moving until she did as he said.
Orelia wrapped her arms around herself.
“Either you do it, or we do it for you.” The taller, jade-colored batalin grinned at the other.
She swallowed. “Please . . .I’m—I’m not from here. I’m just a traveler passing through.”
The taller one stepped forward. “I don’t give a fuck what you are.Strip.”
She’d never be able to get past them and out the door. Even if she summoned their weapons and used them against the men, she’d never make it outside before someone caught her.
There’d be no telling what punishment she’d suffer if that happened, so Orelia let the tears well as she kicked off her boots and slowly undid the ties to her pants. The leathers slid down her legsand she stepped out of them, whimpering. The tunic hit just below her buttocks, and her whole body shook, unable to continue.
“And the rest of it,” the tall one said.
The orange batalin licked his lips.
Orelia squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping free. She pulled her tunic over her head, and the room closed in around her as she dropped the shirt.
“Too slow.” The orange guard grabbed at her body, and she screamed for him to stop, but he ripped off her underwear with one hard yank. The tall one grabbed her wrists and held them above her head while the other freed a knife and ripped her breastband down the middle.
