She hadn't gotten far, when icy mist appeared around her ankles like lassos. A rope of ice and snow coiled around her like a serpent, knocking her to the ground before dragging her back through the unbothered crowd to a hulking one-eyed man who stood back at the dock covered in thick furs and hides.
“I’d be careful if I were you. The sale isn’t kind to those who try to run.” He spoke through the thick scarf across his mouth, looking down at her lying in the cold mud. The look in his bright blue eye and the calm of his voice told Caramyn he must’ve done this a million times before. And he was clearly a Silverean water witch—quite skilled with manipulating ice and snow. “Best behave or you could end up with a buyer who is rather…cruel.”
The way he drew out the last word made Caramyn shiver. For the first time since Asterious had found her in the Shadow Woods, she felt completely helpless. Of course magic would be prominent here. There was no authority to stop them. Strange and ancient magic had likely flourished here in these untouchable peaks while it suffered its grueling death in the rest of the kingdoms.
“All that power and you choose to use it for this,” she spat through desperate pants.
“Let’s just say I make the most of my talents.” The man grinned and flexed his arm in a mocking way that made her want to claw out his remaining eye.
Brenn ran to her side, but the man shoved him back. “You couldn’t keep her contained. I don’t think your captain would approve of you taking her the rest of the way.”
“I’m sorry,” Brenn said, producing the shackles he’d removed from Caramyn. “It was an accident. It won’t happen again...I promise.”
The Silverean man watched Brenn with suspicion, then snatched the shackles from him and placed them on Caramyn’s wrists himself, securing them so that there was no chance of her getting out of them again.
“Try again.” He growled, pointing to the bidding grounds. “If you so much as step in the wrong direction, I’ll kill you both.”
Caramyn hoped the focused look on Brenn’s face meant he had a plan, because she was out of ideas now. But as they walked, she sensed Brenn's nervousness as he guided her, noting the sweat starting to form on his forehead even in this frigid air. She wondered if he could tell she was just as worried.
She could see up ahead. Smoke from nearby fires shrouded various men of status, draped in their fine furs and laden with axes and leather, laughing and drinking. A breath caught in her throat when she realized they were discussing the price on a helpless young woman who stood displayed among others in the center of the ring.
“I can’t imagine why there’s a shortage of women in this charming place.” Caramyn shook her head. “Who wouldn’t want to stay here?”
“They tend to sire mostly sons. Daughters are rare, so I’ve heard, and more susceptible to the harsh climate. Then there’sthe matter of death in childbirth…No doubt women are kept like broodmares in hopes of increasing the female population.” Brenn murmured, his voice low. “Though I suppose they finally realized it was more effective to smuggle wives in.”
She swallowed, nausea tearing at her stomach. “I’ve fought off vile men before. A little ice won’t stop me from doing it again.” She said it under her breath, more for herself to hear than for Brenn. But within her insides were twisting in knots.
“Just be careful.” Brenn’s touched the top of her knuckles of the hand containing the vile, and his eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat.
“What did you do?” Caramyn asked, taking another reluctant step toward the bidding ring.
“I made the vial invisible. But it’s only a small enchantment and it will only last for a few hours. Keep it close. It’s all I know to do.”
Before Caramyn could ask him more, a solid, unforgiving grip yanked her away from Brenn. “Time to go!” It was captain Tharvold. “I’ll not risk you escaping again.”
“No!” She cried, twisting and tugging without success to escape his grasp.
Brenn chased after her two men from the crew were quick to restrain him. Caramyn heard the captain reprimand him and order the men to take him back to the ship. She watched the distance between them grow as Brenn, shouting and grunting in objection, was restrained and dragged away until she could no longer hear his voice. She hadn’t even gotten to tell him thank you.
The captain yanked her along until he brought her to a man sitting alone on his own private platform. By this alone, it was easy to note his wealth.
His head was shaved to the skin, marked with pale scars and dark paint that traced his temples and brow, highlighting thegrease and grime along his scalp. A circlet of bone and beaten metal rested against his skull, more talisman than crown, a faint tang of blood and rot clinging to it. He watched her with hard amber eyes sharp as ice under a winter sun. Eyes that flickered with a simmering hint of cruelty. Though at least middle-aged, his body was thick with muscle beneath layers of fur and hide, and when he stood, he towered over Caramyn as just as she imagined a Silverean clansmen would. Broad, immovable, and forged by the cold, and radiating a predatory stench of a man who took things by force and did not care who he crushed along the way.
Tharvold spoke to the man in an unfamiliar tongue, likely the ancient Silverean language that she thought only the mountains knew. He gestured to her as though she was an object he was presenting, no more alive than the shackles on her wrists. After an exchange of gold coins, he left Caramyn in the presence of the man, still bound.
“That’s quite an unusual eye color. What kind of wielder are you?” The man surprised Caramyn as he spoke in the common tongue, his accent thick. She did not respond as the man eyed her up and down in a way that made her crave a long bath.
“It doesn’t matter to me if you answer me or not. My house is warded to suppress your power, whatever it is. I bought you for the only thing you’re good for. And that’s not speaking.” He reached up and touched her swollen face. She flinched and pulled back as much as her chains would allow. He clicked his tongue. “Oh no, they didn’t tell me about that. I couldn’t see the bruise from there. I paid a high price for you because of your rare beauty. Too stunning to be ruined by senseless injuries like that.” He paused, running his fingers down the curve of her neck. “But you can prove you’re still worth the price tonight. I don’t think I’ll have the patience for to wait for the binding ceremony.”
Caramyn felt her head spin and thought she might vomit there on the spot, despite the fact that her stomach was empty. Memories stirred up of the Inquisitors who had looked at her mother with the same filthy, vultures’ eyes. He placed a thick fur pelt around her, and though she winced at his touch, she welcomed the much-needed protection against the cold.
She clenched the vial in her sweating palm. Her last hope. Unless those Shadows had followed her across these frigid water as they had followed her to Asterious’ court. Unless they would come to her aid now again as they did with the Cavren. But she couldn’t take the chance in assuming they would show up. And if she had somehow summoned them in her own power, she was clueless as to how to do it again. She would survive with or without the Shadows’ help. Whatever awaited her, she could only pray that when night came, and this horrid man tried to touch her, she would have quite the surprise for him instead.
But first she’d have to survive the trek up the mountain.
40
The Spires
