“They’re coming,” whispered Saana, chained just behind her.
Malin nodded, a slight jerk of her head. A few prisoners ahead, Zoran craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of who was riding by on the other side of the line of soldiers that had assembled along the road on the other side of the wall surrounding this courtyard. Then he fell to his knees as a guard slammed a club into his shoulder.
“Eyes down,” the guard shouted at Zoran, his brows low with fury. “You do not have permission to look upon the Prince of Envy!”
The guard spit on the Fae.
Zoran rose slowly, this time keeping his head down. Malin stared at the thick red line across his bare shoulder blade, splattered with the guard’s saliva. Hatred rose in her like a tide, threatening to swamp her reason. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, pushing the rage down, down, down. She had to be cold. Deliberate. Zoran would be her example. Her comrade did not respond to the blow or the insult. He merely trudged forward—but his lean body was steady, and his broad shoulders were squared. She could almost read his thoughts: soon.
Soon, they would all regret. Soon, they would know terror.
Soon.
That was the thought that comforted her as the Fae were led to a line of cages against the wall of the castle. Most were already full, and the sight of the people inside made Malin’s gut clench. Pinched, pale, terrified. Every one of them already a slave of their own fear.
The doors of the empty cages were open, welcoming the new prisoners to misery while the red banners of the Prince of War waved merrily from the castle ramparts above them. None of the cages were tall enough to allow any of them to stand straight, at their full heights. None of them were wide enough to allow the prisoners to lie down and rest. But that was all right for now, just for now. Malin and the others had been marched up from the forest where they were caught, through the city gates, up the road under the hateful leering eyes of the vampires and Shades of this domain, and now they were behind the fortified walls of this palace to be auctioned off to the princes and nobles. They were not here to rest.
The slip of a girl in front of her began to sob as they were lined up in front of the available cages.
“Shh,” Malin said. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Like the previously captured prisoners, this girl was not part of the plan. She had been in the forest just outside the wall, too, probably gathering mushrooms and herbs for potions, or maybe poaching small game to feed herself or her family. Maybe she was on her own, but Malin guessed she was an apprentice or daughter to someone who didn’t care enough about the danger of sending such a young one so close to the realm of the Prince of War. In times of peace, the gates stood open to allow vampires to travel freely, but in times of unrest, like now, the enormous iron gates had been closed, a signal of mistrust and domination—and of fear, Malin hoped. But either way, Fenris Vane still sent hunting parties outside the wall to capture any who were careless or stupid enough to stray too close. Why had this young one taken that risk? It made no sense, but that didn’t change the situation. This girl was captured, and now she would be sold to the highest bidder. Just like Saana and Zoran and Malin.
Unlike the girl, though, they had gotten captured on purpose.
“You’ll be inspected soon,” shouted the guard as he went along the line, unlocking the shackles that chained each prisoner to the one in front of him or her. “When your turn comes, you’ll step out of the cage and stand still. If you’re told to turn around, you turn around. If you’re told to bend over, bend over. If you’re told to open your mouth, you’ll open your mouth. You will do as you’re told, or you’ll feel the kiss of the lash, understand?”
Malin stared at the guard’s key as he poked it into the lock that held her shackled to the quaking girl. She watched as he turned it and once again fought a smile.
The guard’s hand shot out and grabbed the braid that held her long, coppery hair back. He wrenched her toward him, shoving his ugly face right in front of Malin’s. She found herself staring at the scar that ran along the side of his jaw, the puckered, pitted skin. His breath smelled like blood and wine as he growled, “I said, understand?”
She let her lips tremble. “I-I-I—” She yelped as he shook her, causing her body to bump up against his.
The guard smiled. “If you don’t understand, I could teach you.”
“Understand,” she said in a tremulous voice, hoping she sounded frightened. Submissive. “Please don’t hurt me,” she added.
The guard let her go abruptly, causing her to stumble. “Don’t tempt me.”
She bit her lip and kept her head down. This guard would probably get in trouble if he abused the prisoners too much before their prospective masters had a chance to inspect them, and for the moment, that was lucky. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The guard grunted. “Get into your cages.”
Her wrists were still shackled. This was inconvenient. She’d hoped to have her hands free, but that had been naive. She stepped into the cage, stooping as the iron bars brushed the top of her bowed head. She turned around just as the guard slammed the cage closed and twisted his key in the lock that held the door shut. On her left, Saana was silent. On her right, the young one was sobbing again.
“Quiet,” Malin breathed as the guard continued down the line, unlocking prisoners from each other before corralling each in a cage.
The girl, her sapphire hair matted, her nails crusted with grime, leaned her forehead against the bars. “They’re going to kill us.”
“No, they won’t,” Malin said. “They’re going to sell us, and then we’ll be put to work. What are your skills?”
It would be best if the girl were calm.
“I-I … can do some potion-mixing?”
“What’s your name?”
“Foria.”
“All right, Foria the potion-mixer. When they come to inspect you, make sure you’re ready to tell them how you can be useful. You are not helpless if you have a skill.”
“I’ll try,” the girl said, sniffling. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just take care of yourself.” The words hurt coming out. Malin hated this. But her responsibility was far greater than any one Fae. Besides, the girl would be all right for the time being. If she was a competent potioner, she might be bought by a noble or prince in need of an assistant to a healer or brewer. Until all the slaves could be liberated, Foria would be able to work and live and be safe. Not an ideal life. Certainly not a free one. But a life that could be lived until the princes were crushed out of existence and their brutal rule could be ended.
Hopefully, that end would come soon.
It was Malin’s job to bring it about.
She hadn’t wanted to be here. Ekan hadn’t given her much of a choice in the matter. But now that she was here, she didn’t plan to fail. Her ragged, patched-together tribe needed her too much. She could only hope she wasn’t helping Ekan lead them to their own extinction.
Once again forcing her doubts back, Malin wrapped her fingers around the thick bars of her cage and looked around the courtyard. The prince of War, Fenris Vane, clearly hadn’t judged any of the new prisoners a threat, because there were only four guards on duty for the twenty of them.
The guards had no idea that three of their new captures were there by choice. Saana and Zoran had volunteered, even knowing it was likely a suicide mission. They were loyal to Ekan, willing to die if it meant causing the death of even one prince. And Malin, well. The fact that she had no taste for war hadn’t mattered, not unless she’d wanted to oppose her brother as leader of the tribe. Ekan had been gathering rebels for many moons now, binding them to him with promises of invasion, of retaking their homeland, of freeing their enslaved brothers and sisters, of slitting the throats of the vampire princes and watching their blood feed the soil. Doubts were shouted down. Questioning was met with threats of banishment from the only tribe and family she’d known since their parents had
been slaughtered in the Unraveling. Since then, the shreds of the defeated tribes had banded together, bred and grown, nourished by dreams of revenge. Once they had been Earth, Air, Water, and Fire, and now many of their young ones were a little of each, their traditions lost, their heritage and history forgotten, memories fading as memories always did. Malin could only hope that something new would grow from those ashes. That was her secret, fragile wish.
But this cage was her current reality, with a quivering young one crying quietly only a few feet away—and a plan, a determination, a knowledge that this day would probably end in her death … but could maybe bring a new future for her people. It was enough.
“We have to be careful of Kal’Halen the Keeper,” Saana muttered, her teeth clenched. “He’s here somewhere, and he’ll probably feel any magic we use. We have to be quick.”
“Quiet,” Malin snapped, eyeing the guards. “Stop telling me things I already know.”
“Here they come,” said Zoran, again telling Malin something she already knew as she watched a thick wooden door open, as two soldiers walked out and stepped aside, as Fenris Vane himself entered the courtyard. He was tall, with shaggy brown hair shot through with coppery threads that were similar to the color of Malin’s own hair. The guards bowed their heads in deference as he strode past them. She’d never seen the prince until now, but she’d heard tales of him, nightmarish stories of his cold mercilessness. At his side was a white wolf, which snarled as it surveyed the soldiers. But when it turned its eyes on the prisoners, it was curiously quiet, though its teeth were still bared. Its gaze met hers and held, and she felt a strange tremor inside. It didn’t feel like fear, not quite. More like awe. She tore her eyes away. She would not feel a thing for the pet of a vampire prince.
“This is what I came all the way to Stonehill for?”
The sneering voice drew Malin’s attention to the men now standing in front of the cages. It didn’t belong to the Prince of War. It belonged to the fair-haired man next to him, one wearing a fine black velvet cape, with his lips curved in contempt and his blue eyes glittering with hatred. “They’re scrawny and pathetic,” the man continued.
“A sad little strategy to drive the price down, Levi,” said Fenris, looking amused. “But go ahead. Insult them if you will.”
Levi. The lean, cruel-eyed man was the Prince of Envy.
Other men were entering the courtyard. One was shirtless and oiled, with curly dark blond hair and a grin that spoke of villainy in carnal whispers. “Oh, come now,” he said. “You can hardly blame him. Your dealers have been inflating slave prices for years.”
Fenris rolled his eyes. “It’s a free market, Dean. If you don’t want them, don’t buy them.”
Dean, the Prince of Lust. It suited him. His skin radiated sex and desire and Malin suddenly wondered what it tasted like.
“Do they have any skills?” asked a third man.
Malin blinked away her hot-blooded thoughts and forced herself to look at the newcomer. This one had a sculpted face like his white-haired brother, but it was slightly softer than Levi’s, less harsh. His black hair was short and looked as if he’d run his hand through it in consternation, leaving a few bits sticking straight up. He was dressed simply, not in a grand cloak, though his leather boots were fine. It was his belt that held her attention—there was a pouch hooked to it that clanked as he walked along the line, and next to it hung tools that made Malin’s fingers twitch with curiosity.
“Ace, we shouldn’t inspect the captives until the others get here,” said Fenris.
Ace, Prince of Sloth …?
This man who was now pacing restlessly, almost absently, in front of their cages did not look slothful at all. He looked preoccupied. “Of course,” he said shortly, “I was just curious.” He glanced at the door as more men strode into the courtyard, and his body went suddenly still. “Father. I didn’t realize you would be here.”
Another tall vampire had joined the other four. He wore black armor, a crimson cape, and had the same cruel look as his white-blond son. “Then you weren’t paying attention,” he said to Ace as he walked by him without so much as a look.
Dean leaned toward Ace and said in a loud whisper, “I did try to warn you.”
Ace glared at his brother. “Let me guess—only after that devil’s drink had rendered me unconscious?”
“Not my fault you can’t hold your liquor,” said Dean, slapping his brother on the back.
It might have been Malin’s imagination, but the prince of Sloth looked slightly ill. Clammy and drawn—perhaps it was simply the after-effects of said liquor, or perhaps it was the obvious tension between him and his father. That would be interesting.
But not her concern. She rooted her gaze on the chest of Fenris, Prince of War. It was him she was supposed to entice into buying her. She needed to be at Stonehill in order to complete her mission. She stood as straight as she could, as steady as she could manage, as fearless as was appropriate for a Fae prisoner. She was guessing Fenris wanted slaves who could shoulder a burden, who were strong but obedient. She was the former and could feign the latter for the time being.
“Asher and Niam won’t be joining us,” said Lucian, the king, the author of the downfall of the Fae. That tide of hatred was back, threatening to drown Malin.
“And Zeb?” Fenris asked.
“Probably somewhere with his face buried in a pie,” said Lucian. His voice reeked of amusement as he looked over his sons. “If he didn’t have the care to come, he won’t have the chance to purchase some of this fine Fae flesh.”
“Flesh? He’s unlikely to want to eat them,” said Ace offhandedly. His attention was on the cage at the end of the line. He walked up to it and lifted the warded lock that held the door shut. “Who fashioned this? Did Kayla make it?”
“No,” said Fenris. “Why?”
Ace gazed down the line, his eyes skimming over Malin without a pause. “Nothing.”
“Did you need her to teach you something?” asked Lucian. “Or would that be too much work for the Prince of Sloth?”
“Ah, Father,” said Levi, and for the first time, his voice had softened. “Ace is anything but lazy, curse or not.”
“I am lazy,” said Ace, but his mouth had formed a small smile. “Never forget.”
“You always say that, but we all know better,” said the king. “And it will be a great day indeed when you finally reach your potential.” Lucian turned his attention back to the captives. “Since no one else is coming, can we get this inspection over and done? I’m hungry and would like to convene before the auction, without an audience of Fae.”
Fenris gestured a guard over, and the man opened the cages one by one, inviting each prisoner out for questioning and visual examination. Each captive muttered a few things in low, frightened tones, enduring a few minutes of scrutiny before retreating back to relative safety behind iron bars. When it was his turn, Zoran stepped out and stood at his full height.
“Very nice,” said Dean. “He could be excellent in my realm. He’d be sought after.”
“I am skilled in woodworking and spells to make things grow and flourish,” Zoran said, staring straight ahead as the vampire royalty gathered round him, eyeing him as one might a cow or a horse. Zoran was fuming inside, Malin knew, but he was too devoted to the cause to let it show.
“Hmm,” said Dean. “I like this one.”
“I am in need of an assistant for my groundskeeper,” said Fenris. “He might do.”
“What a waste that would be,” Dean crooned as they moved down the line and Zoran was escorted back to his cage.
Foria was next. She wrapped her arms around her chest as she stepped out. Her eyes were rooted on the ground.
“Raise your head,” said the scarred guard, shoving his baton under her chin.
Foria jerked her head up, revealing her face. It was a beautiful face, large eyes, a sweet bow of a mouth, smooth skin. Malin tensed against a cold dread as Levi reached out and stroked
the girl’s cheek.
“This is a young one,” he said quietly. “She looks untested.”
The dread froze like a solid lump in Malin’s chest.
“Do you have any skills, girl?” asked Ace.
“I-I-I-I—”
“She’s very good at stuttering,” Lucian said, and all the vampires laughed. It made Malin wish she had the power to strike all of them down, violent and bloody.
“Potions,” said Foria shrilly.
“Do you know anything of healing?” asked Fenris.
The girl stammered out a vague stammered answer, and Levi laughed. “Come now, she’s useless but for one thing. I’ll have her and save the rest of you the trouble.”
The girl’s eyes went wide and filled with tears. Ace and Dean were both frowning. “She looks as though she can work,” Ace said.
Levi nudged Ace with his elbow. “Never fear. I’ll make her earn her keep.”
Fenris cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should move on,” he suggested.
As the guard led Foria back to her cage, the girl began to sob, and her wails continued as the door to Malin’s cage clanked and swung open. She stepped out with fury beating inside her like a drum. With effort, she made her face go slack, hiding behind a mask of dullness. “I am strong and can carry things,” she said, her voice flat.
“Well, that’s thoroughly boring,” said Dean.
“Is she stupid?” asked Lucian. “I think this one might have been hit in the head one too many times.”
“All Fae are stupid,” said Levi.
“That is stupid,” said Fenris. “You underestimate them at your peril.”
Ace grumbled his agreement.
“I can lift things,” Malin droned, preferring to be underestimated rather than understood as the threat she was. “I am strong.”
“That’s nice, dear,” said Dean, his attention already on Saana. “You talk good, too.”
Malin swallowed hard. Had she overdone it? She wanted to seem unthreatening but useful, someone the Prince of War might want in his service. She glanced up to see if Fenris was examining her, but he had also moved onto Saana. Only Prince Ace was still standing in front of Malin, his head slightly tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. She held her breath as he stared at her, and didn’t let it out until Dean said, “Ace! Join us or we’ll never get this done before dinner.”
Copper Snare_A Vampire Girl Novella Page 2