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It did. It was a shame that she was bound to someone as cold as I was.

She stepped barefoot onto the stone block. She was still talking to the crowd, answering each bidder with kindness. Her father had assured me she’d agreed to the marriage. Considering what her village needed from her, I doubted she’d been given much say in the matter. Still, I’d expected her to be subdued. Perhaps she was, and simply trying to hide it.

The auctioneer waited for the calls to subside, then brought his staff down once more.

“Who’ll make the first offer?”

The minotaur who’d greeted Thalia barely let him finish. “Two hundred gold coins!”

A satyr answered with three hundred, and an orc near the edge of the grove raised the offer to four hundred. Men called encouragement from the branches. Below them, the auctioneer repeated each bid, turning from one hopeful bidder to the next.

“Five hundred,” a naga hissed from somewhere behind me.

The auctioneer missed him in the noise. Scales dragged across fallen leaves as the naga came closer and repeated his offer, loudly enough to interrupt a satyr preparing a smaller bid.

There were well over a dozen men bidding now, and the smaller sums were quickly overtaken. Only the ten highest bidders would join the row. Gold bought a man the chance to offer his hand. Thalia would still choose which suitor to accept.

A second minotaur offered six hundred. One of the satyrs swore, tallied the funds he had brought, and raised his own bid. Beside me, the naga let out a disbelieving laugh before shouting another bid.

I kept my hand on the bag of gold I’d brought. Men were scraping together what they could afford and shouting to friends for loans. Ordinarily, I’d have been glad of their eagerness. Now I was waiting for my turn in a ceremony already decided. They tried to improve their chances, but they’d never had any to begin with.

“Eight hundred gold coins.”

The offer came from deeper in the crowd, followed by the heavy tread of four hooves. The crowd parted to let a centaur pass. I tracked his approach through the press of living bodies.

A centaur had taken my eyes in a border skirmish decades ago. For an instant, the silk over my empty sockets seemed too tight. I remembered the pain with a clarity I would have gladly done without.

“He’s here for the bride,” a serpent reminded me, “not for us.”

It was true. The centaur paid me no mind. He’d stopped by the stone, making his offer like any other bidder. I had no reason to view his advance as a threat.

“Eight hundred from Nessos, chief of the Nephelidai,” the auctioneer repeated.

“And she won’t have to leave her people to be my wife,” Nessos added. “You know that, Thalia.”

So they knew each other. I waited for her answer, but she gave him none.

The auctioneer called for further offers. And I decided I’d waited long enough.

I’d come prepared to end the bidding. I tightened my hold on the bag and called out the sum I’d intended for her.

“Ten thousand gold coins.”

The obscene amount wasn’t necessary. I’d settled on the price before I’d even arrived. It was a paltry sum for a woman’s choice, but it was the least I could do to show I understood what she was giving away.

The naga beside me stopped shifting his coils. A startled oath came from the branches, then silence.

The auctioneer repeated my bid slowly. No one made another offer, and he brought his staff down against the stone.

“The bidding is closed. Those I call, come forward.”

He arranged us across the open ground in front of the block. Three satyrs took their places first, still arguing good-naturedly about what they’d offered. The two minotaurs stood beyond them, followed by the orc, a cyclops, the naga, then Nessos. I claimed the last place.

Beside me, the centaur braced his hooves against the earth. Farther down the line, one of the satyrs let out a long breath and laughed at himself. The bidding had made him bold. Waiting to offer his hand was apparently another matter.

The auctioneer moved out of Thalia’s path. “The row is ready for you.”

She stepped down from the stone. The conversations around the grove quieted as she approached the first satyr.