Aelfric loves me.
And I never knew.
My knight. My oldest friend. The person who stood at my shoulder through every battle and every council.
I never looked. I never once looked.
"There you are!"
Petal catches my arm before I can reach the exit.
"You're needed. Auction block. Now."
I am still gasping.
"Auction?" I manage.
Petal's expression hardens. "First night girls go on display. Don't look so frightened. Smile."
9
Chapter 8 Rhianelle
“Special event tonight,” Petal says briskly. “High bidders win a private evening with their choice. You’re new and mysterious. You’ll fetch a good price.”
She is already steering me toward the main salon.
“Don’t worry,” she adds under her breath. “You can refuse anyone you’re uncomfortable with afterward. But you must stand up there.”
Stand.
As if that is simple.
“Thorn!” Petal calls brightly. “She’s here!”
A fae male cuts through the crowd toward us like he owns the house, which he probably does.
Tall, broad-shouldered, draped in deep violet silk. He sees me and his whole face opens up.
Before I can retreat, he takes my hand and bows over it.
“Thorn Vale,” he says warmly, bowing over my knuckles as if I were the honored guest. “Master of ceremonies, curator of chaos, and your advocate tonight.”
My throat feels dry.
He is the auctioneer.
“So this is our mystery,” he murmurs, stepping back to look at me properly. The fae looks as if he has just been handed a treasure.
“Beautiful,” he says under his breath. “Radiant, even through the mask.”
He releases my hand with a knowing smile. "First time?"
I nod.
"Now then." He clasps his hands together. "What will you offer? A dance? A song? Chess? Poetry?”
“I don’t…” My mouth goes dry. “I can’t sing.”
