I nodded once.
“You got the rest of my family to safety. They sent me word from across the sea before I tried to flee. Thank you, a thousand times, thank you!” she said, eyes shimmering with tears. “My name’s Kyra. What’s yours?”
Baffled, I could only stare.
Thankfully, the slaver chose that moment to start the car, and the unique experience of hovering above the ground distracted Kyra from her pursuit of friendship.
I imagined the trip was uneventful for the other girls, who clutched at each other for support, while I stared at the passing buildings in awe. I’d lost track of how many years I’d spent in the woods, and seeing a flourishing civilization for the first time since my exile was completely overwhelming. The sheer volume of people going about their business made my heart beat erratically and sweat bead on my brow. The smells a suffocating nightmare I couldn’t escape. Not even with my eyes shut, trying to place myself in the sanctity of my forest.
Sucking a breath through my teeth, I tried not to hear the sounds of a thriving city. Tried instead to view my surroundings with a rational mind as I searched for an escape.
The buildings were mostly intact, absent the war scars I’d been expecting to see, given the stories I’d heard from escaped slaves and refugees.
No one looked twice at a slave transport.
It took us the better part of the afternoon to enter the city proper, and I’d spent most of that time pressed against the bars farthest from my fellow captives. Serenaded by terrified sobs of my fellow prisoners, each choked whimper growing more and more heart-wrenching as we neared our destination. I could understand their fear—better yet, I shared it—no one valued freedom more than I did.
But I let their terror ground me, separate and distant. Let it give me the benefit of a clear perspective as I spent hours searching for a chance to make a break for it. During this passive observation of my surroundings, it was the strong military presence that stuck out the most.
We were headed toward a war zone, which could only mean one thing—elites.
Being worked to death in the salt mines would be a blessing.
The carriage slid to a graceful halt before a building of red, crumbling brick.
“Jasper! Good to see you, mate. Slaves for the front line?” a soldier asked as he came forward to meet the carriage.
“Indeed, Kyle, and a sorry lot they are, I might add. Except for this one,” he replied, stroking Kyra’s hair through the bars. “A little rough around the edges, but I’d imagine she’s the only one of worth.” He sighed, and Kyle laughed.
I glared at him through the bars. Reckless. Angry.
“GoodLord, where did you findthatone?” Kyle asked, dark eyebrows jumping to meet his hairline as he caught my gaze. The revulsion billowed off him in waves.
A satisfied smile traced my lips, injected with every ounce of hate I could muster.
“Ah, yes. This unfortunate creature is Hob. She’s the wood menace who’s been poisoning my men and freeing slaves. Say hello, Hob,” Jasper said, jabbing me painfully in the ribs.
I bared my teeth, and Kyle clapped, amused.
“She’s a right wild little thing, isn’t she? Oy! Caleb! Come see this,” Kyle shouted, waving over another soldier. Soon enough, there was a crowd of men gathering around our cage, pointing and laughing. I did my best to remain impassive, but with Jasper stabbing his stick at me, it was all I could do not to shriek in rage.
“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Jasper said, laughing along with the soldiers. “If you want to see her, come to the auction tonight. Nine o’clock sharp!”
I curled in on myself as we started moving again, fists rolled into white-knuckled balls. Vision going blurry as terrified sobs threatened to overwhelm me.
A gentle hand settled on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Kyra said in a soft voice. She pressed closer, wriggling into my side, then draped her arm around my shoulders.
Her touch was a comfort that bolstered my courage, so I indulged in the contact. But only for a moment. My tolerance worn thin and ragged, I pulled away, but pressed a trembling hand to my heart in thanks.
By the time we’d come to a stop behind a battered building, I’d managed to pull myself together. Here were the war scars I’d been looking for. Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up, the walls blackened by fire. Yet, the sounds of merriment spilled from inside, hinting at a gathering of a great many people.
One by one, the other girls were dragged from the transport cage, leaving me alone behind bars.
Caged.
Biding my time.
