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Chapter 1
Kael
Ineededtostopglaring at the Elves inspecting me and the line of other slaves, their mouths pursed as they tutted about our appearances, or I was going to get caught. Sharp-eared assholes. Taking a slow breath, I imagined stabbing my bone sword deep into the heart of the Elven female eyeing me with distaste. Her blood would match the crimson dress she held next to my face and everyone would scream as she collapsed, scattering as I pulled my blade free and advanced on them… It was a pleasant thought and gave me enough wherewithal to plaster on a vacant smile as they inspected the woman beside me. Not that I had my beloved sword or even clothes. I was alone in enemy territory. Defenseless. And it was my fault.
My adopted brother, Gavril, had begged me not to take the mission, to let someone else go instead. All of them had. They thought I’d blow it within an hour if I saw the Marshal… But I’d insisted, and when that didn’t work, I’d slipped out of the hideout without permission, only leaving a note explaining where I’d gone. Now here I was, standing naked in front of a group of Elvish cunts as they decided which slaves to pick as prizes for the winners of the gladiator games, attempting to prove all of them wrong.
But it would all be worth it if I could complete the mission.
“They’re all so dirty,” a female Inferi Remnant complained. “How’re we supposed to tell what they look like under this muck?” She wore golden silks, her horns polished to a shine. A royal concubine, for sure.
“The same way I did with you, Zija.” The lead Elven woman replied in a tiresome tone as she stopped at the slave next to me, lifting one of her breasts with a single finger and frowning. “A few piercings can cover a lot of issues, can they not?”
The courtesan started to lift a hand to the hoop in her nose before she caught herself and narrowed her eyes. “These slaves are an embarrassment, Carita. We need the best for today. Rhazien wants everything to be perfect.”
My ears pricked at the name of the governor of the desert city, though he was better known as the ‘Beast’ to me and my cohort.
“Mind your tongue.” Carita snapped. “I don’t care who you’re fucking, you’re not in charge here. I am. Understand?”
I held in a laugh at the Inferi Remnant’s expression. Did she really think that anelfwould treat her as an equal just because she was in the Governor’s harem? The arrogant bastards thought they were better than anyone else and had fought a war with the gods to prove it.
“Then it’ll be on your head,” Zija responded with a sneer as she swept out of the room, a few other similarly dressed Remnants falling in behind her.
Carita laughed under her breath, waving away her assistant’s questioning look as she continued down the line.
“Name and age?” The assistant asked, not even looking up at me from the ledger she carried.
“Kael. Twenty-four,” I answered, my tone just a touch too hostile, and she glanced up at me sharply. I gave her a bland smile, hoping I’d covered my mistake. Before Orya died, I’d been able to fake it. To keep my head down and survive. But that part of me had died with her and now all I wanted to do was fight, regardless of the consequences.
“This one is interesting,” Carita said, stopping in front of me.
I studied her as she inspected me; her hair was dark and straight, flowing down to her waist, her dress black and red with golden touches. A member of the royal household, then. She was tall and beautiful, as all the Elves were. Perfect in her immortality. Something they’d stolen from all the Remnants.
She stepped closer, scrutinizing my features. Her metallic eyes seemed to take in every detail of my body, absorbing it all as she categorized each flaw. She ran her fingers through my long silvery hair, causing a gentle shiver to run down my spine.
“This one has a unique look,” Carita said finally. “What are you, a Wraith Remnant? Or maybe a Sirin?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. My father had been human and my mother had died when I was a toddler. The rest was a mystery.
“No matter. This one should work with a few changes. She will be our ‘Desert Lily.’ With her skin and hair, it fits.” She listed a few criticisms about my appearance that her assistant jotted down.
I clenched my jaw, which according to her was too sharp, determined not to punch the Elves talking about me like I was chattel. To them, I was.
“Step over here,” another elven woman barked as Carita made her way down the line, selecting more women and men to join me on the other side of the room. A Sirin Remnant with olive skin and lavender hair pulled back into a tight bun shuffled over to stand beside me. Shimmery scales dotted her face, glistening with the tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She stood so still—only her hands trembled as her breath stuttered—that it seemed like she barely even registered what was happening around her.
I wanted to reach out, to comfort her. But I hesitated. How did one comfort someone who’d been reduced to a possession? To be used by others however they wished? Anything I said would be a lie.
I leaned closer and caught her eye, though my voice came out more awkward than comforting. “It’s going to be alright,” I said, wishing it was true, even as the lie tasted like ash in my mouth.
“It’s not.”
Her voice was so soft I barely heard her. “Just stay close to me. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
She stared at me dubiously before nodding. “What’s your name?”
“Kael.”
She wiped her eyes as she stared at me. “I’m Aella,” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly.
