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"Release me, you monster,” I demanded, struggling against my chains. He held up a lamp, and my tawny skin glowed faintly in the dim light, a contrast against the oppressive darkness that enveloped the room.
"Such fire," Omar mused, unfazed by my defiance. "I do appreciate spirit, but I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see, you offered to sell something, and I have brokered a deal. We agreed upon it last night.” The man who had looked so pleasant the night before stared at me with his clear, unfeeling eyes. “Do you watch the Blood Tournaments?”
I gritted my teeth together. There was a faint, bitter smell in the air. “You stole my jewels, and you stole me. We agreed upon nothing.” My head was too full of sadness, of shock. I wasn’t in a good place to barter with this sadistic bastard.
“Call me Omar, dear.” He tutted almost delicately. “And let’s get something straight. You are a product. As a man of business, I pride myself on taking advantage of a stroke of luck. You showed up at my doorstep, so I did my research.” He paused for a moment, and my stomach tightened. “Here’s your first lesson in economics, since that governess hasn’t taught you anything useful. What did the papers say her name was? Ana something?”
“You know who I am,” I bit out.
“Of course I do. I’m the best.” He smiled and laced his hands behind his back before continuing to speak. “While the Élite are swimming in wealth, it is unnecessary for them to use that wealth within Arrebol. It was the same when they were called courtiers. As such, the people who support your society are the Workers. And even more specifically, the Comerciantes Nocturnos.”
He smirked, walked closer to me, and then pulled out a knife. “Of course I know who you really are, Carmen Asbaje Torres. Or should I say Renata Valarde Bordón? La Chica Dorada. I recognized you in an instant.” Without warning, his hand darted through the cell bars and grabbed one of my shackled wrists, exposing the soft flesh there. Then he pulled a simple kitchen knife from his pocket and violently dragged it across my skin.
I cried out, and the magic started up. Within seconds, it was rippling and spreading across my skin with fervor. My strength had been restored, and I was strong.
Too strong.
The sound of people knocking into cages filled my ears, and several of the people exclaimed in languages I didn’t understand.
That solved the Ash question. I knew from personal experience Ash robbed a person of their abilities to properly use Blood Magic.
Omar laughed. “The rumors are true." He straightened his shirt. "Don’t worry, I will uphold my end of the deal. There's a savage Fae in Eskosia who will pay handsomely for a beautiful creature such as yourself. But, he doesn’t want you to come for another two days, so I have taken it upon myself to schedule some diversions while I have you in my storehouse."
I stared at him, eyes wide with terror. “I’m not a creature.”
“Are you sure?”
The last ten minutes told me that all the stories of distant lands were true… which meant that some of the Fae were likely just as ruthless as many had believed them to be. To be enslaved by a Fae shopping in the Mercado Nocturno would be a fate worse than death.
“No,” I spat.
He smiled wider, and the gaunt stretches of his face crinkled from age. “Come now, mija. If you don’t do as I say, then I’ll make sure the Canciller knows exactly where you are.”
My breath hitched. “If you help with the Blood Tournaments, why are you interested in robbing it of its star?”
For a second, he glowered, but he quickly returned to his disgustingly pleasant expression. “Very good question. It’s fortunate that I have no obligation to explain myself to you.” He took a step to the side, and the woman who had drugged me the night before entered the small space between cells. “I’m taking you to a new cell.”
“No,” I gasped. “Please, I will do anything.” My thoughts raced, searching for an escape from my impending doom. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that returning to the Canciller would be just as disastrous. I was caught in a web of my own making, and now I faced the consequences.
"You will, but it will not change the fact that the deal is done," Omar said, his voice dripping with malice. "Soon you will belong to the Fae, and they will do with you as they please. Until then, you’ll be mine.”
A swell of dread filled my chest, suffocating me. But despite my terror, I refused to give up. I had survived worse than this, against greater odds. If Isaac had taught me anything during our time together, it was that impossible challenges could be overcome.
Lidia withdrew a long needle and took my arm. I screeched and tried to pull back—several noises of unsettled beings stirred around me—but the woman was deceptively strong.
Darkness returned, flying on nightmarish wings.
Chapter7
Cut Me, And I Will Make You Hurt
When I woke up, Isaac’s name was on my lips. My head throbbed, but at least my cell no longer smelled of unwashed bodies and damp stone.
I had dreamt of Isaac’s face, but he behaved like Antonio. Isaac no longer acted fickle and brash. He was thoughtful, vibrant, and full of feelings hot enough to scorch snow.
I swallowed, and it hurt.
"Isaac?" I murmured, tasting the words on my lips, bitter-sweet and tinged with longing. My mind swirled with memories of our stolen moments: laughing breathlessly beneath the moonlit sky, sweating next to each other on a track, and the way his eyes had shimmered after kissing me.
