This time tomorrow, I might have a better idea of where the slavers had sold my mother, and if Lochlan helped me dig up information about where Roderick sold my family, and if Ambrose got the bounty for my father approved through the Employer… There were a lot of ifs, but I wassoclose to finding my family, I could almost taste it. I wouldn’t let this opportunity slip away. Even if I ended up in a tight spot, I was starting to trust that Lochlan would do everything in his power to get me out, at least so long as Roderick allowed him.
“Do you love your father?” I asked quietly. Lochlan shot me a quick glance. “You still owe me answers to two questions of my choice,” I reminded him.
He kicked at a clod of dirt that broke apart and scattered particles throughout the underbrush. “Not anymore,” he finally said. “I used to when I was a child. I did everything he told me because I kept hoping that he would tell me he was proud of me and that he loved me. But he never has and he never will. It took a long time to accept that. Even if he did say the words now, he wouldn’t mean them.”
“What about your mother?”
“Using both your questions to ask about my parents? That seems like a waste.”
“Family is never a waste,” I said quietly. “So what about your mother?”
“She left when I was very young. She remarried and has a new family now. They work near the palace and our paths occasionally cross.”
“I get the impression you aren’t all that close with her, either.”
“You’re out of questions.”
I smiled. “I didn’t ask a question. That was a statement.”
Lochlan scuffed his shoe in the dirt again. “Not particularly close with her, either. Once I was an adult, I reunited with her, and she occasionally claims that she cares about me, but I also think she sees me as more of a means to punish my father than having real feelings.”
“I’m sorry.” It surprised me how much I meant the words. At least I knew my family wanted me. They’d been forced to leave. Lochlan had both his parents nearby, but neither seemed to care for him. His situation was much worse than my own. “Is there anything I can do?”
He gave a weak smile. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to let me take your place tomorrow.”
I swallowed. “You’re right. I won’t promise that.” Whatever this was felt was much more frightening and uncertain than any mission in my past.
“Can you promise to stay safe?”
“I can try, but that’s another thing I can’t promise. I can’t control what other people do.” I bumped his shoulder. “How about something else? I’ll give you one more try.”
“Then just don’t betray me. You know more about me than I’m usually comfortable sharing.”
“Will you do the same for me? Promise not to betray me?”
“I can agree to that.” Lochlan held out his hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, I took it.
“Then I promise I won’t betray you.”
Lochlan ran his thumb over the back of my hand and smiled. “You were telling the truth that time.”
CHAPTER 18
Lochlan didn’t look at me when he accepted the payment from the slavers. His jaw was tight, the muscles along it working as if he were grinding his teeth to powder. For a moment his fingers lingered around the pouch of coins, then he tucked it into his belt and stepped back.
“Pleasure doing business,” the slaver said. He gripped my upper arm so hard that I was sure bruises would appear within minutes. Lochlan’s eyes flicked to where the slaver’s hand was clenched around my arm, then he simply grunted and walked away without looking back.
The slaver jerked me forward. “Move it.”
I stumbled after him through the warehouse doors and nearly gagged when the smell hit me. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light after the bright sunshine outside, I saw dozens of cages lining the interior. Some were barely large enough for a person to sit in while others held three or four people, all crammed together.
There was an occasional rustling when someone shifted on the dirty floor, but most of the occupants barely moved at all. They just stared with hollow eyes as we passed. One woman satcurled against the bars of her cage, her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked faintly back and forth. A boy no older than twelve leaned against the opposite wall of another cage, staring straight ahead like a statue carved from stone. On a table near the end of the hall, bottles were lined up in a row, all filled with a deep-crimson liquid.
While the door to the warehouse was still open, a woman cried out, “Help! Please help me!”
Immediately, one of the guards doused a cloth with liquid from one of the bottles and shoved it over her mouth. Within a few seconds, she stopped shouting and fell back in her cage.
The slaver who guided me in stopped once at a table, dipped a cup into a bucket of water, and gave me a shove between my shoulder blades.
