Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,16
life over to a man she knew little to nothing about, and there were no trembles. It was then she realized that she wasn’t afraid. Her fear had dispersed. She quickly wrote her name on his flesh and after a brief moment, her eyes widened as drops of blood and scratches rose where the end of the pen had pressed into him. He whispered something in a low language she vaguely recognized, but couldn’t place, and the tanned surface around the scratches of her name began to glow before the name sank deep beneath his skin, turning black.
“Now you,” he said.
Quinn handed the pen over and jerked her sleeve up as well, sticking her arm out. Lazarus’ gaze landed on one of the many slave brands. This would not be the first unwanted symbol etched on her body.
Lazarus took her hand in his, twisting it so that he could press the end of the pen to her wrist. When he stroked it over her, she didn’t feel a thing. It wasn’t until he removed it that she gasped and snatched her hand back, turning it so that she could watch the process as a fire blossomed under the skin and spread.
“Myori’s wrath!” she hissed under her breath as it reached her veins. “You didn’t say it would hurt,” she snapped as she wiped away the blood.
Lazarus tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t ask.”
She glared at him as he recited the incantation again. Once it was done the scratches of his name—Lazarus Fierté—settled under her skin and rose once more in curved black lettering. Quinn stared at the name. It was one thing to have a noble seal branded on her, it was quite another to see someone else’s full name there. It was odd, to say the least.
“So, what now?” she asked, rubbing her wrist.
“Now, I make sure you understand that should you attempt to break this binding, you will die.”
Quinn jerked her head back and gaped at him. “Die? If I break this I would die?” Her voice rose an octave and shadows flickered. “Shouldn’t you have mentioned that earlier?”
His eyes tracked those brief flickers. A slow smile curling around his full, masculine lips with amusement. The darkness in that smile struck her silent.
“What’s done is done, Quinn,” Lazarus replied as he raised his hand and one of the guards approached with a set of keys. “In the future, however, I would make sure that you understand the fine print of a contract with someone before signing it.”
As the cell door swung open, Quinn stared at the man in shock. He turned around and headed down the hall, towards what she presumed to be the exit.
Just who in the dark realm have I signed my life over to?
The Weeping Eye
“Pain is the body telling you that you’re alive; that you survived to make whoever hurt you pay.”
— Quinn Darkova, former slave, ex-prisoner, definitely deranged
The carriage shuddered along the road as Quinn stared at the man across from her. When she had first climbed inside there had been another person waiting. Lazarus hadn’t introduced them before he had sent the man away. She had to wonder if he was planning on keeping her away from his other vassals.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked after several minutes of mind-numbing silence.
Lazarus looked up from the small booklet he had pulled out from beneath his clothes earlier—first a magical quill, then a booklet—Quinn wondered if he had secret pockets under his garments. He glanced down at her bare arms and then to her neck. Quinn stiffened, but didn’t cover the slave brandings.
“We’re going to get those removed,” he stated before going back to the pages of his booklet.
Quinn frowned. Not that she didn’t want to get her slave brands removed—it was an expensive process that she hadn’t been able to afford—but it was interesting that removing her brands was the first thing he wanted to do. She wondered if they bothered him. “Why?” she asked.
Lazarus sighed and closed the book before tucking it away once more. “Because,” he said, “as my vassal you will be in front of people of nobility. I have not and never will approve of the slave trade in Norcasta, nor any other country. You will be expected to attend certain functions with me and the clothes you will be provided for those functions would reveal them. I cannot have a vassal of mine running around wearing the slave brands of a dozen masters.”