This hall is much the same as the previous level, though along the wall runs a tapestry, paint on silk. Men on horseback with pointed sticks driving monsters towards a ravine. Creatures falling into an abyss. And then men in long maroon cloaks, holding chains attached to the necks of women heavy with children.
A knot forms in my throat and I reach forward, the urge to rip it from the wall overwhelming. I grab the corner, and clench the smooth fabric in my fist. But before I can tear it, something catches my eye.
On the wall underneath the tapestry someone has drawn a link of chains—a crude sketch in black ink. The chain is broken in the middle.
The Governess’s voice—Azalea’s voice—is fresh in my ears. I was a little like you once. Always looking for a way to break the chain.
I don’t know if she was once the property of the men in this house—maybe the mayor’s father, or his father before him. I don’t know if she’s the one who’s drawn this. But it gives me hope all the same.
I straighten the tapestry, careful to keep my body between the secret message and the camera on the ceiling behind me.
“You must be one of my new acquisitions.”
I startle and spin. Before me stands a slender man with a square jaw and a narrow mouth. He’s older than his dark, slick hair and smooth skin might suggest; I see it in his eyes, which are squinting, even in the soft light, giving the impression he’s one of those people who’s always plotting something.
The mayor. It must be. No one else would refer to me that way.
I glance over the casual black robe he wears, cinched loosely around his waist. It reveals too much of his form beneath. A blush rises in my cheeks.
“I just got here.” I don’t know why, but I can’t meet his gaze. I feel it, though, searing through me.
“Well then. Welcome,” he says coolly. “You’re finding your room comfortable, I trust.”
Hard to remember, being as I was passed out and paralyzed most of the night.
“It’s all right,” I say. It’s strange, thinking I have my own room. I’ve never had my own room before. Even in the mountains I shared a tent with the family and a cot with Nina.
He’s closer than I like, or maybe the hallway is too narrow. Either way, I’m too crowded.
“Such an interesting face.” He lifts his cold hand and touches my cheek. There’s something about him that makes me feel small.
I turn away. “So you’re the mayor, I guess.”
“I guess.” He smiles. Perfect, white teeth.
“Amir’s father.”
“Ah.” He seems to realize how I’ve come to his home now. “You must be the girl who barks like a dog.”
He gestures down the hall, and I find myself falling into step beside him.
“My son was quite taken by you.” His lake-blue eyes sparkle, and it occurs to me Amir doesn’t look much like him. “Some might think it’s extravagant to purchase a girl for a child.”
“Thought crossed my mind,” I say, trying to sound smart, like him. “But who am I to judge? If you want to spoil your kids, that’s your business.”
“You are wild, indeed,” he says. “I’m almost regretting not attending the auction myself. We might have fought over you.”
I close my mouth. A shadow of regret passes over his face, and he grows quiet, clearly thinking of something. I don’t interrupt him.
“There is only one,” he continues after a while. “Just Amir.” He sighs. “Maybe I do spoil him.”
The hall has opened to a large room, ripe with exotic perfumes and soft music, walled by mirrors on all sides. Strewn across the floor are fancy pillows of all different colors, and atop them a dozen or more girls are lounging. When they see us, they squeal and jump to their feet, a flurry of textiles and patterns, and crowd around the mayor.
I’m surprised he has only one kid. From the looks of things, he’s not spending too many nights sleeping alone.
A girl who looks a little like Straw Hair with her yellow locks pushes to the front. She’s not much older than me and is stroking her flat stomach as if she’s just eaten a huge meal.
“It’s a boy, Mayor,” she says. “It’s a boy. I know it. I feel it.”
“Wonderful,” he says, with barely a second glance.
She is pushed aside by a girl with long gold earrings and skin that’s been painted to match. I think I recognize her from my first week at the Garden, but she wasn’t such an odd color then.
“Mayor, there’s something I’d like to show you,” she says in a sultry voice.
But he points to a girl standing near the back. One who looks no more than twelve or thirteen years old, who hasn’t grown into her body yet. She’s picking at her fingernails.
“You,” he says. “Join me for a walk, won’t you?”
She gives a little nod and takes his hand.
It’s sickening. She looks like a child beside him. She is a child.
“Figures,” one of them whispers. “Of course he’d take the carrot.”
“The what?” I ask.
“Her father just traded her last week,” says the girl with gold skin. “Part of some big business deal. He got the mayor’s attention by dangling a carrot out in front of his face. Get used to it. Happens all the time.”
Disappointed, the other girls return to the floor to laze about.
“Enjoy your stay with us,” the mayor says to me on the way out. “You are indeed a fine prize for my son.”
I am speechless.