Left to my own devices, I tried everything I could think of—pulled on the cage's floorboards and tried to squeeze between the tight spaces between the bars. Pacing and sweating, one arm a tight, supportive band around my ribs. Fingers sticky with dried blood.
There was nothing for it.
I’d have to fight my way past Jasper when he returned or accept my fate in the salt mines. But there was only one way out of this cage.
When the sounds coming from the building swelled, I stilled. Muscles tense. Coiled for the strike.
Jasper’s eyes were bright with excitement—until he looked at me. Taking in my defensive posture, he slowed his approach and collected a set of handcuffs. With a deliberately slow twist of his wrist, he unlocked the cage and stepped inside.
Panic rushed through my system, and I lashed out, dragging my nails down the side of his face. I hadn’t the leverage to draw blood, but there were now angry red slashes running the length of his face.
Absent any hint of mirth, Jasper laughed. And it was cruel. “I thought so, Hob,” he mused, seizing my wrists in a bruising grip. Overpowered and overwhelmed in seconds. And before I could defend myself, I was bound in heavy iron manacles, a thick matching collar snapped shut about my throat. Pinching where the hinge nipped at my skin.
And though I had yet to utter a word, the temptation to curse and scream until I was blue in the face nearly overwhelmed me. The final insult occurred as he snapped the end of his walking stick to the loop at the front of my collar and dragged me from the cage.
The heavy chains connecting my wrists threw me off balance and I stumbled, nearly garroting myself on the collar.
“Easy, Hob,” he said in a tone reserved for soothing unruly children or wild animals.
I exploded in anger, a wordless scream escaping my lips as I lunged at him, intent on ending his life. He stepped out of range, keeping me at the end of the stick as I clawed at the collar, drawing blood. It was disturbingly easy for him to lead me through the door the other captives had gone through, using the stick as leverage.
And so, my introduction to the auction house was at the end of a pole I’d only seen a dog catcher use. Cheeks flushed in fury.
Jasper drove me forward, tight in my shadow until I was off-center on a small stage. Staring stupidly back at the hundreds of soldiers crammed into the small room.
The other women were arranged on the stage to my left, unrestrained. All but Kyra—who was directly beside me—were shaking with fear, tears streaking down their faces. Her beautiful pale face was covered in healing bruises, yet she retained an air of haughty purity.
“Can’t wait to wipe that look off her face,” one man shouted, reaching to grab at his crotch. Leering. His pupils wide, nostrils pinched white.
Unbroken, beautiful Kyra was drawing too much attention.
Lips parting, I was suddenly desperate to warn her of her mistake.
But the damage was done.
Picking out entire conversations in the roar of the crowd was next to impossible, but comments about beautiful green eyes were clear enough.
A commotion from the crowd drew my attention away from my fellow captives. Several serving girls brought drinks and food around. Girls who seemed to be on the menuthemselves, for as I watched, horrified, the poor creatures offered strained smiles at the men who groped them at will—high, brittle laughter for those who grew bold enough to drag them over a lap. Touching and tasting, some going so far as to fight over the prettiest ones.
Teeth bared, I reached without thinking. Fingers seeking Kyra and the soft comfort her touch might offer.
Jasper jerked the stick, and I was forced to my knees with an anguished cry.
“Shall we start the bidding?” Jasper cried after passing my lead to one of his men. “This first Eloran treasure has the perfect temperament for a novice trainer…” said Jasper as he pulled the terrified girl to the forefront.
But I could no longer hear him, his voice drowned out as I tried to quell the terror screaming inside my head. Watching as he proceeded down the line, selling girl after girl, relentless until the woman standing next to Kyra sold for eight thousand dollars.
When the stage was cleared of everyone else, Jasper clapped his hands together and shouted over the din. “Gentlemen, this is our main event of the evening!” The crowd fell silent, watching as Jasper hauled me to my feet. “May I introduce Hob. This horrible little creature has been living in the forest for some time, poisoning my men and freeing slaves. But this delicate Eloran rose,” he said, stroking Kyra’s face tenderly. “Has befriended her. And yes, there is a female under all this filth,” he said, and they erupted into laughter.
Teeth clenched, I let my glare fall to the floorboard beneath my boots. I never thought I’d be bothered by the opinion of others, but when tears pooled in my eyes at the merciless taunting, I knew I’d been wrong.
Kyra’s fingers slipped into my clenched fist, and she squeezed, sending me the support she could.
“This beautiful girl stubbornly refuses to see Hob’s hideous exterior and seeks to comfort the little beast!” he exclaimed, lifting our joined hands in triumph.
The applause was deafening—men laughing and placing bets. Lewd comments echoed and blended together as a wash of numb fell over my mind. Horror drenching me in a cold sweat.
Jasper spread his fingers, then caught Kyra’s chin between forefinger and thumb. “Kyra’s charms are matched only by her stubborn will, gentlemen, so she is suitable only for those with experience. Wouldn’t want to damage such a treasure, would we? Shall we start the bidding at ten thousand?”
