Once, this had been a place to worship the gods, when they died, it had been claimed by the magistrate. Evidently it was now the domain of the mage.
The stairs were musty, but dry. The walls were cool, and with each step the temperature dropped, making it almost pleasant. Ahead, the sobs of defeat filled the air, proving they weren't the first prisoners to be brought down here. Behind her, the sharp orders from soldiers blocked the hope of retreat. Her neck was starting to ache, the stone of the ceiling offering little to reassure her. That was when the man shoved her forward.
She managed two steps before tripping to the floor. Stone bit into the heel of her hands, her skin left behind like a sacrifice, and she turned, bracing for what came next, only to find herself in a cell. A large cell. And she wasn't alone - the women were being separated from the men. Over a dozen dust-covered ladies of various ages watched the guards silently. Tears streaked faces, bruises marred cheeks, but they were too scared to even cry out. Slowly, Jaeda backed away, seeking the wall.
When her back hit it, she curled tightly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her yellow gauze dress was one more thing to mark her as different from the others, and the last thing she wanted was to be noticed. There was no way it would go well for her.
The females of the town, regardless of age, were all herded in the cell with her, but not the boys. Not even the child. When the youngest tried to follow his mother, a soldier grabbed his arm. That was when the wailing started in earnest. The child screamed for his mother; the woman cried out as she rushed toward the bars, but the men blocked her, closing the iron door in her face. Shoving her arm through the gaps, the mother strained to reach her son. Desperation was written on every line of her body, but the soldiers kept going down the hall, the bawling boy's toes barely touching the ground as he was hauled along.
"Not my baby!" The mother's voice bounced off the stone.
Jaeda made no move to help. The other women moved to comfort the mother instead. The younger children were huddled toward the back, far away from where the enemy would return. For a long time, no one seemed to notice her. They cried, they begged, and they prayed to long-dead gods. Only after they'd tried everything else did they start to blame. Naturally, she was the target.
"Why did they lock her in here?" snapped one.
A few heads turned, their eyes cold. These women knew her. Oh, they all knew her, but Jaeda only knew their husbands. She couldn't even tell which man went with which wife, but it didn't matter. In their pretty dresses, with their cruel words, they were all the same. Their husband would never. Their husband loved them. Their husband had probably paid for the privilege of time in Jaeda's cheap straw-filled bed, and they hated her for it.
She hated them just as much, so she said nothing. It was the only answer that wouldn't cause more problems. These were the same women who'd told her she wasn't good for anything else, and now they wanted to blame her for it.
"Give her to the guards," one said.
"Let them take their turn on her. She obviously enjoys it."
The mother looked at her with hollow eyes. "If they hurt my boy, I will kill you myself."
Jaeda just sighed and nodded. There was nothing else to say. She'd been like them once. She remembered thinking that touching her meant love, not just pleasure. She remembered valuing herself by her purity as if it were a currency. She also remembered when she learned that it was all a lie, just before life stripped her pride and left only selling her body to keep her alive.
"I can accept that," Jaeda told her, as she stood. "Since it means they won't get the chance."
Her words cut through the buzz of their hysteria. Those who'd already noticed her glared; the ones who hadn't finally looked her way, making her the center of attention. Refusing to cower before them, Jaeda first surveyed the children, then their parents. Most of them had lived here their entire lives. The only thing they knew of the mage wars were the stories spread by merchants passing through. She was willing to bet none of them