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The other reaches for a spear, but it is too late. While the other screams from loss of blood, pieces of his trapezius muscle hanging out of my mouth like gristle, I tear into the hand of the one that holds the spear, ripping flesh from bone.
They beg for the aid of their war gods, so I rip at their throats, tired of their petulant cries. Their blood will decorate this cave entrance, and it will be my art. A warning to the sentient creatures that wander into these woods to stay away.
I wish they were fatter, that there was more flesh here to enjoy. Something about the way their skin hangs from their frame and their bones protrude visibly through gives me the impression that they have been starved for months or years.
And then, as I separate head from shoulder, picking apart my kill, I sense something far more tempting.
Something cries out to me in the distance, unlike any other prey I’ve torn into. There is a great feeling of desperation hanging in the air, carried forward by it. And the fear I’m sensing is so much more nuanced and powerful than any of my other prey.
But I do not want to abandon my meals. First, I must devour these orcs. I leave their heads here, placing them on either side of the entrance.
In time, they will become skulls, and the creatures of the forest will enjoy their flesh. But for now, their terrified expressions carry the weight necessary to dissuade further trespassers.
On all fours, I climb down the rock face, bounding toward the source of the distress with incredible speed. My claws pound into the rock path, my curiosity and appetite piqued.
3
ARIELLA
Ihave lost.
The admission lingers in my mind, but I refuse to acknowledge it as I am led forward and across the Dark Market, bound by my chains.
I look to the man holding my chains, Lord Everan Medrai, and ponder whether living under him would really be so terrible. He is a portrait of wealth and carries himself with grace.
From being well-fed, or perhaps through some matter of magic, he stands tall, towering over me. His jaw is pointed and angular, eyes leaking silver. And every time he turns his hand as he leads my chains, the many rings adorning it shimmer in the light, shining with gold, silver, bronze, and orichalcum alike.
“You’re quite the specimen, aren’t you?” he asks as I follow him at his insistence.
Accompanying us are several of his personal guards, who all sneer. They keep close watch on me, and many are carrying sharp weapons and blunt instruments.
The dark elf with the worg, whose name I recall to be Altrius, stands and stares, beasts at the ready. I can see that he is waiting for the opportunity to intervene.
“Answer your master,” one of the guards accompanying us says, prodding my ass with a sharp fire poker.
The poker driving into me sears my skin at the same time that it stabs me, confusing my body as blood tries to move forward but is immediately stopped by the burning. I stop moving, the pain overtaking me.
This is also not what they wanted.
“Don’t stop walking!” another insists. “You’ll stop when we tell you to stop!”
“Thank you for purchasing me, Lord Everan,” I stammer out.
I hope it will suffice, since I’m not sure how to answer his question while maintaining humility.
A human should never show pride. It's one of the cardinal laws of living among dark elves. They hate it when you challenge their superiority.
It kills my soul to declare it, but in desperate times, sometimes your only option is to appease your captors.
“You are welcome,” Lord Everan drawls. “You’ve caught my eye for some time, human. It is my wish that we know each other quiteintimately.”
It should come as no surprise to hear him declare my purpose. I am meant to be a concubine, serving his every whim.
Still, to hear it stated so overtly only intensifies my desire to escape. I just need to wait for the right moment.
Until then, I need to cooperate. With collaboration, they may give me an opportunity to escape by lowering their guard. Should I show any resistance, their watchful gaze on me will only be more fervent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the worg approaching, guided by their master.
