Mistel set her jaw. She couldn’t stay here and wait for him to return. She wouldn’t live as someone’s captive, caged like an animal, her every move controlled, her freedom ripped away.
Her memories—her worst memories—pressed in on her. She’d been here before, after her mother’s death, in a different kind of cage. She shoved those thoughts away and fought to focus on the present.
Her gaze swept the room. A single oil lantern hung from a beam overhead, its weak flame barely lighting the cavernous space. Crates stamped with the Thusk Shipping Exchange insignia were stacked in uneven towers, their wooden sides stained and splintered. Chains dangled from the rafters, some tipped with hooks. She caught sight of a guard leaning against the far wall on her left, a piece of straw between his teeth, his hand resting lazily on a belt that held a ring of keys.
“Excuse me?” Mistel called, her voice cutting through the stillness.
The guard flinched, the straw falling from his lips.
“Quiet down!” came a sharp voice on her right.
Mistel twisted toward the sound. Over the stack of boar cages, she spotted two more men, their heads bent close in conversation. She narrowed her eyes. How many guards were in here?
She tried again with the first one. “Oh, sir? The one who dropped the straw?”
The man straightened, his brow pinched. “What you want?”
“Can you let me out, please?” she asked sweetly.
“’Course not,” he snapped. “You’re going on the next boat.”
Mistel’s stomach dropped, but she masked it with a tilt of her head. “You must be mistaken. Master Fawst said he was going to buy me for himself.”
Behind her, someone snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She glanced back and saw three men standing around a stack of crates, a lantern between them illuminating a dice game.
“Certainly not,” she replied.
“Well, Fawst ain’t in charge.” The first guard pushed off the wall and took a step closer. “And Thusk already sold you, so you’re shipping out.”
Sold her. She shivered. “Sold me to who?”
“What do I look like, a ledger?” The man’s lip curled. “Now quiet down, or I’ll make yeh.”
“Well!” Mistel straightened, mustering a haughty tone. “There’s no need to make threats.”
“Bite your tongue!”
Ah ha. That this hunx of a guard had a temper gave Mistel an idea. She cleared her throat and began to sing.
“Woe, woe, woe to the Five. Woe, woe as they flee for their lives.”
One of the dice players groaned. “Woman, spare us your clamor.”
Another said, “Let her sing. She’s got a right fine voice.”
Mistel sang louder, filling the cavernous space. “As the Father God grieves how they fail to believe. Woe, woe to the Five.”
The animals stirred, blinking in the darkness. The ice boar snorted and pawed at the hay. The man in the cage two down from hers lifted his head and fixed a pair of shimmering blue eyes her way.
A boot kicked the back of her cage. “Pipe down.”
Mistel kept going. “Woe to the realms as they turn from the light. Following darkness and evil delight.”
The straw-chewing guard stormed over, his boots sharp on the floor. “Stop that!”
She met his glare and sang louder. “Their emperors scheme and sorcerers teem. Woe, woe to the Five.”
