the whole time, the rich man just watched.
When they finished with her, two more men carried in another bucket of water and removed the first. Over and over it went until all seventeen of them were considered good enough. Their captor seemed unimpressed with the entire ordeal, as if it was just another job for him to oversee, but his eyes kept returning to Jaeda's. To her eyes, not her bare breasts, and not the triangle of closely-trimmed hair between her legs. He always looked back to her eyes.
She didn't trust him. Men always looked. They couldn't help it. He should've been aroused by her nudity, or at least by the vulnerability of the other women, but instead, he just looked bored.
With each woman cleaned, the others began to relax. The Adevians hadn't touched them with more than their eyes, and the pathetic things started to hope. It was palpable in the room, their soft voices adding flavor to the feeling as the quavers stilled and the fury began to emerge. The washers were halfway through the crowd when the captor moved closer to Jaeda.
"How long have you been in Kurkevy?" he asked.
"Four years."
He nodded, and his eyes finally dropped, falling to the scar on her hip. The brand was easy to read for anyone who knew that alphabet: harlot. It marked her shame and her fall into this life. The touch of his eyes brought back the pain of the judgment and the smell of her own flesh burning under the hot iron. Slowly, he looked back at her face. His eyes were nearly the same black-brown as her own.
"From the Taren Islands?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded once, then stepped away. It seemed he could read it. Evidently he also knew about the world beyond. Not many knew where such dark-skinned people lived, and more refused to believe that civilization existed beyond the coast. It was odd that he hadn't asked how she'd earned the mark. One more thing to make the hair rise on the back of her neck. Everything about him screamed that he was much more evil than the silly wives knew. They saw a gentleman - as much as a man could be under the circumstances. Jaeda saw a sadist.
"You," their rich captor said, pointing at the wealthy woman. "You're first. Then you, you, you..."
With each repetition of the word, he singled out another person from the cell, lining them up. The kind girl was the sixth and Jaeda was the seventh. She was still close enough to protect her.
When they were all in a line, he ordered the guards to lead them out. One man in front, four split into pairs on each side, and the sixth trailing behind them. The men were armed, and each one looked like he would have no problem cutting down a terrified, naked woman who tried to run. Thankfully, none of them made the effort.
They were led through the temple basement, up the stairs, and across the massively ornate halls. The rich man walked with them, daring to smile at a child hanging onto her mother's fingers. The girl might have been five and was not ashamed to be naked. She smiled back broadly.
Then they turned to the main room. Two large doors, built to impress the faithful in the time of gods, were pulled open. Each was wide enough to let four men walk in side-by-side. They were tall enough that a tree would barely brush the top, from the way the guards strained to move them, they were also very heavy.
Beyond lay riches like none of them had ever seen. In a building designed for a god, gold was everywhere. Plus, for the last decade, this temple had served the Magistrate as his palace. Where the citizens of Kurkevy enjoyed simple lives, that man's tastes had run to velvet and gems, using them for accents wherever he could. Massive stone columns lined the room, supporting the gold-trimmed arches above. In the very center was a raised platform, just large enough to hold the massive gold throne that was intended to be the center of attention.
Each footstep echoed out in the cavernous room. The beautiful floor was cold, tiled in an ornate geometric pattern of the most lavish stone. Black, white, green, and even blue marble had been polished to shine like mirrors. The bare feet of the women left smudges in their wake.
"Line up here," their captor ordered, pointing his finger at a line where the color changed.
The