I didn’t move. My legs felt bolted to the floor, but then they shoved the crying girl forward, and the line shifted, one step closer. Closer to the door.
Closer to the stage.
When it was my turn, I stepped through. The room was warm, rich. Dripping in comfort. Red velvet chairs lined the space, glowing under low amber lights. They looked too soft. Too luxurious for the monsters sitting in them. When I hesitated hands shoved me forward.
Light spilled over me, hot and blinding, swallowing everything. All I could see was white. Just light. Nothing else. And somewhere before me I heard the clink of coins. Paper shuffling. A low laugh slid over my skin, made me want to tear it off.
“Gentlemen, your attention please. We have a rare jewel tonight. Young, and freshly brought into the fold. She is said to be a maiden still. Sweet, fresh, unspoiled. Or so they say.” A voice spoke loudly.
Untouched. If only they knew.
“A rare treasure… or a liar’s tale? There’s only one way to find out. Lot nineteen. One night. What shall I hear for her?” The voice continued.
Lot nineteen. Right. I wasn’t even human to them.
The room swam around me, everything spinning too fast to make sense. I searched the fog, desperate, but I couldn’t find Will. I couldn’t see Aran. The faces before were all smoke and blur. But they had promised, they had said that they would come. I had to believe that.
The heat pressed in from all sides. The smoke, the noise, the eyes. That awful, greedy hunger. I could feel it crawling over my skin. The bidding rose—fifty, sixty, eighty—and my head pounded so hard I thought I might faint.
"One hundred gold!”
Silence fell. Just for a breath. Then the gavel struck.
It was done.
Hands seized me, yanking me off the stage as if I weighed nothing. My knees buckled, but they didn’t slow. They dragged me down a hall of thick doors and muffled voices, laughter curling out from places I didn’t want to imagine. I kept my head down, fists tight, trying to feel nothing. The lights blurred, too bright and too far away, the noise too sharp to focus on. My head spun, smoke and panic clogging my thoughts until I couldn’t tell if I was floating or sinking. I was pulled along a corridor lined with closed doors, some leaking laughter, some moans, some nothing at all. I stared at the floor, taking shallow breaths, nails biting into my palms. And I tried to find the fire within me, in case I should need it. But it was blocked, shut out by a thick wall of ice, spreading through me.
We stopped at a door. I didn’t look up, only heard the click of a key, the slow groan of hinges, the guard shoving it open.
The room spoke for him.
Red silk spilled across the bed, pooling like blood. Candles burned in gold sconces, throwing a soft, deceptive glow. The air smelled of melted wax and a sweet floral, something meant to tempt. Something that made the place feel warm, intimate, too romantic for what it was.
I didn’t have time to process it.
The guard shoved me again, and I stumbled forward and landed on the bed with a choked gasp.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My arms lay limp at my sides, hair falling over my face, and I wasn’t sure I was even a person anymore. I was lot nineteen. Sold for one hundred gold. Tossed onto a bed and left to wait.
"The buyer will be here soon,” the guard said.
I didn’t answer. What could I say? He wasn’t expecting a response anyway.
The door stayed unlocked, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
Slowly, I curled in on myself, knees to chest, arms wrapped tight, as if holding on hard enough could keep me from falling apart. My fingers gripped the thin fabric of the gown, desperate for something solid. Something real. I pressed my forehead to my knees and closed my eyes.
Maybe it all was a mistake. Maybe there had been another way to save Licia. Asmarterway. One that didn’t end with me being sold. Maybe we should’ve stormed in with blades drawn and torched the place from the inside out.
But we hadn’t. And I was there. Alone. And worst of all, I hadn’t seen his face. I didn’t know who had bought me. Bought the first night with me. My heart started racing again, thudding so hard it drowned out everything else. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant. What it really meant.
It could be anyone. If Will hadn’t gotten there in time, or if someone had outbid him, then whoever walked through that door would be a stranger. A man who wanted only one thing.
I could already feel the rough hands on my skin, the grabbing, the taking. I thought I might throw up. The room was a cage dressed up in silk and candlelight. Everything around me soaked in red. The walls, the bed. A color that to me meant fire. Blood. Danger.
I looked down at myself. At the pink gown clinging too closely to my body. I hated it. I hated how exposed it made me feel. I hadn’t counted on the mist. I hadn’t expected how it would slow me down, dull everything, make me weak enough that I didn’t know if I could even stand.
Let alone fight.
