city, and here there are rows and rows of tents like something out of an old war movie. There are more land-hippos and more men. Armored men. To a one, they're all dressed in an overcoat of a dark red over armor. It makes them look alarmingly badass.
And they’re all looking at me.
I get that uncomfortable prickle along my spine. Clearly, I'm not supposed to be here…wherever here is.
Clearly, this is very, very bad. I’ve stumbled out of a marketplace in the slums and into a war encampment. I turn on my heel, moving back toward the walls I've just—stupidly—wandered out of.
A hand grabs my shoulder. “What have we got here?”
A man in armor gazes down at me. His face is craggy and rough, unshaven, and he stinks of sweat. He eyes me like I would a new flavor of cheesecake.
I try to feign a smile.
“You look like you’re lost.”
Boy he has no idea just how lost I am. I gesture back where I came. “Sorry. I didn’t see the sign that said ‘no girls allowed.’ I’ll be heading out now.”
His hand just tightens on my shoulder and his eyes narrow at me. “Who’s your overlord?”
“Pardon?” I try to slide out from under the grip of his gloved hand, but he yanks on my arm instead.
“Your overlord,” he says, leering at the front of my pajamas. “If you’re from Aventine, you’ll have an overlord and a house symbol showing your allegiance. Wanna flash those for me?”
“Oooh, they’re in my other pants,” I say brightly. “But if you’ll just let me go—”
He clamps down tighter on my shoulder. “We’ve got ourselves a runaway slave,” he bellows. “Rodrick!”
A man starts running toward us. “Yes, Commander?”
“I’m not a slave,” I protest, jerking at the man’s grip. “Let me go!”
The commander backhands me and I go flying to the ground. “Rodrick” hauls me to my feet as I stare at the men in shock.
Someone just hit me. I touch my face in stunned surprise.
The commander just gives me an icy look, then focuses on Rodrick. “You know what we do to those who have no allegiance, don’t you?”
“The slave pens, Commander?”
The man nods. “Make sure she brings a fair coin. She’s got all her teeth.”
I’m the unluckiest woman ever.
I push my face between the metal bars of the slave cage that’s been my home for two days, trying to see the man that’s just walked up. He gives me a look, and I try to smile prettily at the man in front of me, since I’ve learned that no one listens to a pissy slave. “Hi there. Are you from around here? Because I’m not and I really, really need to get out of here.”
“Shut up, tart,” the man says, barely glancing over at me.
Rude, I think, but I’m not surprised. No one in this place has even heard of the word “manners.” I’m now two days into this new world, though, and I’m determined to find a way home. I’m long past hysterics, long past tears, and have ended up in the grim-resignation end of things. I’m here in this shithole, now I need to figure out how to get out. And getting out means getting out of this slave cage, first of all.
If that means being nicey-nice to this guy, I’ll do it. So I flutter my lashes, give him a chirpy smile, and try again. “I’m from Earth. Chicago, actually. I know everyone thinks it’s all crime ridden and cold, but it’s actually pretty awesome. Great nightlife. Fantastic museums. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?”
And I beam like I’m not in a slave pen on some Conan-esque planet, wearing manacles and what can only be described as a half of a skirt.
I’m going to get my way out of this place with the power of positive thinking, damn it.
The man just narrows his eyes at me. He glances over at the man in front of the slave pen and gestures at me. “This one’s got a mouth on her.”
“That can be fixed,” the man says, counting coins in his hand and not looking up.
I swallow hard, thinking of the guy I saw have his tongue pulled out yesterday. Okay. New plan. “Did I say Earth? I meant…east. Totally meant east. Absolutely, one hundred percent from this land.” I try to slide back behind the other slaves shackled in the pen. I only moved to the front because this guy looked clean and wealthy and maybe would be reasonably nice to