There was also a door, just one, at the far end, flanked by two guards.
They didn’t look like the others I’d seen, in the camp and on the road, most of whom could have been knights out of some medieval flick from the sixties. The kind where they were too clean and had chiseled jaws and perfect teeth, and looked like they smelled good despite riding around in armor all day. But, I realized now, they’d also looked like something else.
They’d also looked human.
These two didn’t. The differences were subtle, unlike with the Svarestri, who appeared almost alien, with skin so white it was practically ashen, and a weird springiness to their movements that human anatomy just didn’t allow. These two had skin that looked like it saw the sun occasionally, and hair that was long and dark, instead of silver bright. But they still had the same too-tall, too-lithe builds, and faces that would never have made it onto a mannequin, no matter how handsome the features.
Because the cold haughtiness would have scared off all the customers.
After a brief glance, I concentrated on keeping my eyes on the ground at some indeterminate place in between the guards’ legs, trying not to notice the way the firelight streamed on burnished armor and in strange, foreign eyes. I also didn’t glance at Pritkin, who had just put a hand on the back of my neck, because he was a slaver and I didn’t think I’d look at a slaver for reassurance. But God, I wanted to!
And then a pike was thrust in my face.
It was shiny. Knife edged and deadly, but also really, really shiny. Like the ones outside the gate, there wasn’t a speck of rust anywhere.
The fey took good care of their weapons; you had to give them that.
“What?” That was Pritkin, responding to something one of the fey had said, which I’d missed because I was entranced by the pike.
“I said, she goes in naked.”
My head came up, and Pritkin’s grip on my neck tightened. “Why?”
The fey exchanged a look. The question seemed to surprise them, like most half-breeds simply obeyed orders without question. And maybe they did, considering the aura these two were giving off. If they could bottle this stuff, they’d make a fortune from CEOs and drill sergeants everywhere.
But the macho vibe didn’t seem to be having the same effect on Pritkin, and after a moment the fey who had spoken answered, I guessed because of the novelty value. “Witch smuggled in a wand. Killed a guard. Thus: new rule.”
He reached for me.
Pritkin pulled me back. “She’s already been searched.”
And oh, shit, I thought, still staring at the nice boring bit of ground, which wasn’t helping suddenly, because the room had just added a couple extra atmospheres.
“Strip her or we will.” The voice was as cold as a mountain stream.
Looked like the novelty had already worn off.
For both parties. I glanced at Pritkin’s arm, to check the hourglass, and saw a clenched fist and bunched muscles instead. The fey noticed, too, which would have been funny under different circumstances. Because they were worried about me, or about whether he was going to be dumb enough to throw a punch, but had totally ignored the pack he was carrying with the monster inside.
I’d brought Rosier along because it was that or leave him with the witches, who hadn’t seemed like fans. And because I couldn’t risk Pritkin’s soul showing up with his father halfway across camp. And because nobody had seemed to give a damn about him so far, other than trying to feed him to the fire, so I was hoping he wouldn’t be viewed as a threat.
It looked like I’d been right.
But this wasn’t something Rosier could help me with.
I pulled out of Pritkin’s grip and undid the halter. Nobody had bothered giving me a belt, so that should have been all it took. But the shift was still damp, and it bunched on my hips, forcing me to have to push it down before I could step out of it.
I stood back up, a hand awkwardly covering my sex and an arm across my breasts, my face flaming, and hoped that would be it.
But apparently not.
“That’s better,” the guard murmured, taking his time as he circled me. “That’s much better.”
“As you can see, she’s not hiding anything!” Pritkin rasped.
“Oh, but I can’t see that. Not yet.”
He circled back to the front and stood there, waiting.
I flashed back to that girl out front, having to stand there for who knew how long, freezing, naked, and miserable. Getting pawed over by any passing fey, having any flaws pointed out and exaggerated to bring the price down, because they didn’t care about us. They didn’t care about anyone who wasn’t them.
And that was exactly the problem with the gods, and the creatures who followed them. Maybe that was why my mother had gotten rid of all of them, because even the so-called benevolent types had often acted like humans didn’t matter. Not their dignity, not their sense of self, not their sanity. Not even their lives. Human beings weren’t real to them, weren’t people; they were resources or servants or playthings or worshippers.
Or victims.
I was getting tired of being a victim. I was getting tired of going through life hoping that someone didn’t notice me. I was getting tired of hiding.
I dropped my arm and stared up at him defiantly.
The fey laughed. “She has spirit, this one. I like that. I might even bid on her myself.”
“And what are your other three going to say?” the second guard asked, relaxing slightly and leaning against the wall.
“Nothing, if they know what’s good for them,” the first one said, swiping a thumb across a nipple, watching it peak. “That’s your problem—you never learned that you can’t let them talk.”
“If you don’t they sulk around for days. And you have to bring them something pretty.”
The first guard shot him a look of disgust. “They’re not your wives—they’re your slaves. You bring presents to slaves?”
“Sometimes. It makes things easier.”
“No wonder you have trouble. You don’t know how to treat them.”
“And you do?”
“Oh yes.” He let go of my breast to trail a finger down my stomach.
Unlike the other, his eyes weren’t black but blue, clear and bright and amused enough that I wondered if I’d been wrong, if there was some human in there, after all. Or maybe some things were just universal. The unwanted touch slid past my navel and continued to drop, down to where my hand still rested. Down to the last bit of me that was still concealed.
And playfully pulled up one of my fingers.
“Oh yes,” he repeated. “But I like to try before I buy—”
Pritkin knocked his hand away. “She’s not for sale!”
The fey looked up, and again, he seemed more surprised than anything else. “She’s human. They’re all for sale.”
“Not this one. She’s to go in with the others—”
“She goes in when I say, half-breed—”