Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,37

up to enter the city. “This is the safest way. If one of these slavers saw me running loose, they’d snap me up.”

The road becomes crowded, too many wagons converging on the northernmost gate to Cranthum. Murmurs about the biggest auction of the year reach my ears.

“I know, but I don’t like treating you this way.” I refuse to pull her roughly like the other masters around us who frequently shout and threaten their slaves. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong, but look around, Gareth.”

I do. I see hundreds of slaves, some walking, some packed tightly into wagons. All of them with their eyes downcast, their spirits broken. Changelings and lesser fae herded like common beasts. My gut roils at the injustice of it all. And the dishonorable high fae who crack the whips and yank their slaves along by chains or thick ropes? I want to strike them down and let their blood bake on the sand.

“Play your part. Be your usual gruff self, and we’ll get through just fine.” She lowers her gaze and shuffles along. “Act your age, wizened one,” she adds.

“I never should have told you my age.”

“What’s a few thousand years between friends?” She shrugs.

The crack of a whip catches her attention, and an elderly changeling falls to his knees before his master yanks him up and pushes him forward, the red stripe on his back adding to the lattice work of scars.

“Bastard,” she says under her breath.

I want to pick her up, to cradle her against me and protect her from the harshness of Arin. But she’s already been through so much. The marks on her body are only a hint of what she’s had to endure. And the slaves around us? They have similar stories, and some are perhaps even worse. How can the summer realm allow this to continue? Why doesn’t Queen Aurentia act?

The sun heats the stolen shirt on my back, the scent of horse and sweat heavy on the material. Beth finally came through on her thieving promises, but I kept a close watch on her and only allowed her to take easily grabbable items from the back of the last wagon. So, we wound up with some dirty clothes, a length of rope, a bent fork, and a moldy hunk of bread.

A slaver walks close by, his high fae features somewhat hidden by a wide-brimmed hat, but his silver eyes are still visible. He stares a little too long at Beth.

I pull at her rope. “Faster, slave.”

“That’s the spirit,” she says under her breath.

“Intending to sell at the auction, friend?” The slaver smiles in greeting.

I want to remove his teeth with a solid punch, but instead I nod. “Won’t get much for her.”

He gives her an appraising look that has me itching to shove the bent fork in his eye. “Skinny, dirty, but young enough to work. You’ll get a bit of gold for her.”

“I’ll clean her up first. Should go for more that way.” The words are like salt in a wound.

“Could be.” He shrugs. “But they aren’t traded for their beauty down here. It depends on how hard and long she can work. You must be new to the slave game, eh?”

I give him a hard look.

“I mean no offense. It’s just that we don’t see winter realm fae down this way very often, especially given your king’s lax rules on the mortals and the lessers.” He yanks the chain wrapped around his wrist, and the line of a dozen slaves behind him stumble against each other. The very last one, a small girl with broken antlers, falls with a cry. Beth moves toward her, but the woman ahead of the girl helps her to her feet and dusts her off.

“I expect a nice sum for this lot.” He shrugs.

“Where did you find them?”

“Some were cast off from Byrn Varyndr. The others were part of a settlement on the edges of the western farmlands.” He leans over conspiratorially. “We have to break up that sort of thing, you realize. Can’t have them claiming high fae land for themselves.”

“Of course.” I smile, but only because I’m imagining how he’d look disemboweled.

He grins back. “If you’d like any auction pointers—”

Someone up ahead whistles, and he turns. “Looks like my partner got us passage through the gate. Nice chatting with you.” He shoots Beth one more glance, then quickens his pace, yanking his line of slaves behind him.

When the small girl passes, Beth leans over and hands her the skin with the last