“I hate snow,” Seloue declared as they picked their way through the deserted streets.
“How can you hate snow?” Rayne asked, aghast at the thought. “Look how it makes everything so much softer.” They were whispering even though they were alone, but that was what snow did. Sounds were amplified while all the rough edges were rounded off. Light from the lamps that lined the street dulled in comparison to the white snow clouds that hung heavily over the city. It was eerie and still except for the two girls trudging through the white powder.
“I'm frozen through.”
“Well, perhaps if you wore more appropriate clothes, it wouldn't be so bad.” While Rayne was wrapped in furs and woolen skirts, Seloue wore her threadbare blouse with the open sleeves and cotton skirts that clung to her legs. At least she was wearing brown boots, even if they did look a little thin.
“I don't exactly have access to finery,” Seloue said. Rayne winced at her error, but there was no spite in Seloue’s voice. It was just a matter of fact. Since leaving the castle grounds, the girl had started to open up. Where she had looked at Rayne with wary contempt at first, it had given way to curiosity, if not kindness. Rayne didn't want to ruin it by being inconsiderate. “Besides, I've never had much need for furs and wool. This is the farthest north I've lived in a long time.” Seloue side-stepped a dirty puddle. “I was born in Lueland on the Ashsky border. All I really remember about it is the heat.”
“When did you come to Orabel?”
“Two years ago, when I was fifteen,” Seloue answered. They were nearly at the market square now, but both girls had slowed so that they were barely moving. In spite of the chill that nipped at her cheeks, Rayne was in no rush to get to their destination.
“With the jeweler?”
“He bought me at an auction in Flagend.”
“Flagend? In Dusk?”
“The very same.” A wind picked up and Seloue shivered, the bands in the bag she carried clinking with the movement. Rayne shrugged out of her cloak and passed it to her, draping it over her slender shoulders.
“They've shipped you all over, then.”
Seloue shrugged, glancing sideways at Rayne, who pretended not to notice. “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere. You've been in Dusk and Shade and Hail, right? Where would you live, if you were free to choose?”
“I don't know that I would choose any of them,” Rayne answered truthfully. Dusk was too painful, swamped with memories. Shade was too dangerous, a place where someone was judged based on their usefulness. And Hail was too sad and volatile, a country on the brink. Then she remembered Merek's map book, the page that folded out to show the world beyond Casuin. Her ancestor had come from the Fields across the Impassable Strait; maybe there was something for her there. But she didn't dare to say it.
Seloue looked thoughtful, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “I think I would go to Shade.”
“Why Shade?” Rayne asked.
Seloue hoisted the bag as evidence. “I'm good with metals. I could open my own shop in one of their mountain towns.”
“What about the Knights?” Rayne didn't look at Seloue as she asked, not wanting to give anything away.
“It doesn’t really matter. The only way I would ever be free to go anywhere is if the Knights of Shade win.”
Rayne inhaled sharply in surprise and Seloue's head jerked to her, her eyes wide at her own words. She hadn't meant to, but it had been involuntary. Seloue was like a wild animal who might dart away at any moment, and she didn't want to scare her. But she had the sudden urge to tell the girl everything, an urge she had to stamp down immediately. Rayne’s position was already unstable as it was.
“I didn't— no— I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Rayne said. Her words were harsh but her tone was gentle. “You should not speak so, especially not to me.”
“I forgot for a moment,” Seloue said, looking away again. “You're different. You make it easy to forget.”
“I will forget you ever said it if you'll tell me why you have those bands.” It was a question that had been irking Rayne since she first saw them scattered over the stone floor. Why would a slave—a slave who dreamed of a day the Knights won, no less—have a bag full of cut slaver’s bands?
The jewelry shop’s red door was visible now, but both girls had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the street. Light spilled out from a window, and the sound of laughter rang sharply from within one of the buildings. Rayne imagined warming her fingers on a mug of cider and was about to invite Seloue to get one when the girl spoke again.
“When the auctioneer at Flagend advertised me as being good with my hands, I feared the worst. But the jeweler who bought me was really just a lazy old man who wanted someone young and talented to work his kiln so he could sleep and drink without a care in the world. He has always been kind to me, but I will always hate him. Because of this.” She thrust her skinny brown arm out at Rayne and she knew she was meant to look at the slaver’s band there, at the way it bit into her skin and clanked against the other bangles.
“I was fifteen but still wore the child's rope,” Seloue continued. “He marched me straight to the smithy. I cried and screamed and begged and I hate myself for it because it didn't make a bit of difference.” Seloue shook her head, her eyes on her feet where snow and mud mingled to create a slush that washed up over the toe of her boots. “You will never know what it's like to see a smithy pull a red-hot rod of silver from an oven and realize that it is meant for you. It was still hot when he slid it over my hand and welded it closed. It took weeks for my arm to heal. But my heart”—Seloue tapped her chest—“is still broken.”
“And these?” Rayne asked, pointing to the bag.
“These are bands cut from the arms of dead or traded slaves. I use them in my work. I repurpose them to try to make something beautiful out of something that was once ugly. I imagine— no, nevermind, it's stupid.” She shook her head and took a few steps forward. Rayne reached out and grabbed her shoulder.
“No, what?”
“I imagine that the slave finds peace that way. A peace that I—they—will never find in Casuin, not as long as...” She trailed off, not finishing the thought.
Not as long as the Crowhearts are in power. Not as long as there is slavery. She wasn’t the only one whose life had been changed because of her father’s selfishness. There were hundreds—thousands—of people who had been hurt by him.