"New to our house. Mysterious as moonlight. She offers thirty minutes of private conversation." Thorn pauses for effect. "A drink included."
The crowd laughs, uncertain whether it's a joke.
"She's a real elf," someone mutters nearby, curious rather than kind.
My fingers curl at my sides to keep them from trembling.
“Shall we start the bidding at fifty gold?" Thorn declares, gauging the reaction from the crowd.
The first paddle rises immediately.
“One Hundred!" someone shouts from the crowd.
Then another. Then three more.
The numbers climb.
"Two hundred!"
"Five hundred!"
The numbers climb impossibly high, voices calling out from the darkness beyond the lights. I stand frozen, every muscle locked and aware of every eye on me. The mask hides my identity but not my body, not the way I tremble like prey beneath a predator's gaze.
I should never have stolen Blair's plans and come here.
"Eight hundred!" A fae commander's voice, one I recognize from the negotiations in Lysander’s crossing. "Eight hundred gold for the silver queen!"
The crowd laughs at the joke. I'm just another mockery to them, something to be purchased and used.
I cannot see their faces. Only their silhouettes.
“One thousand.” I hear Kharlis outbids him.
I force my spine straight. If I must stand here, I will stand like a queen.
"Ten thousand." The voice cuts clean through the noise.
A masked fae in the third row. Red hair catching the light above the mask. His posture easy, one hand raised with the paddle like it costs him nothing.
The room erupts.
“Ten thousand gold!” Thorn calls, clearly thrilled. “Ten thousand, do I have eleven? Ten thousand going once—"
I feel it before I see it.
A cold that has nothing to do with the temperature. Every candle in the room dims at once. Someone whimpers in the sudden cold. The crowd goes quiet in the way that prey goes quiet when a wolf is prowling. He steps out of the shadow at the back of the room and the shadows come with him.
Svenn.
The crowd move for him. There is no weapon visible at his side and he is dressed plainly. He looks like any other patron who arrived late to an interesting evening. There is nothing threatening in his posture, yet everyone knows he is the most terrifying thing in this room.
His eyes find the stage.
They find me.
My heart stops.
Wait. I should be fine. The mask. I’m wearing the enchanted fae item.
