Page 13 of King of Storms and Feathers

“Mines,” she said, and the guard pushed me backward, my cloak flapping upward with the movement.

Her head turned to me. “Wait. Where did you steal the cloak from, girl?”

“It wasn’t stolen. The man who bought me from the gilt market wrapped me in it after he stripped me and threw me in the river in a rage.”

A golden eyebrow flickered. “Do you have knowledge of food and spices?”

I nodded, my heart pounding like a drum. I had no idea if I could cook, but I would learn fast enough.

“Will you swear obedience to me on pain of death?”

My back teeth ground together. “Yes.”

“The kitchens for this one,” she said to the guard.

The guard ushered me toward the left wall. My breath released in short rasps as my shoulders scraped cold stone while I waited, relief warming my blood.

By the time the Sayeeda was done, only one other woman had joined me, also destined for the kitchens, and the rest of the prisoners were steered into the other Underfloor cells to await their fates.

“They’ll stay there until the trucks come for them,” the middle-aged woman whispered from the side of her mouth, silver-streaked dark hair curtaining her wrinkled face. “Could be a while until there’s another slave shipment going to the mines.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I’ve a cousin who was captured last year, a gold runner, who worked in the mines for a month before a trader helped him escape to one of the black-market cities hidden in the Realm of Dust and Stones.”

“The human realm?” I asked, watching the Sayeeda glide along the tunnel toward the elevator at the end, seemingly unruffled by her unsavory duties.

“Yes, the Earth Realm. My name’s Grendal—”

“Enough talk,” barked the guard, cracking his whip on the floor.

He and another grim-faced guard trundled us out of the cell, through a doorway nestled in the stone wall, then along another sloping, claustrophobic passage that came out inside a torch-lit cavern with a steaming mineral pool at its center.

The steamy vapors wrinkled my nose, and I sneezed.

“Allergic to hygiene, are you?” said the tallest guard, pushing us into the water.

When I surfaced, thankful my chain didn’t drown me, a cake of soap hit my shoulder.

“Wash,” he barked. “And throw your rags out.”

“What does he mean?” I said, looking at Grendal.

She lifted a thin brown tunic over her head. “Take your clothes off and toss them out. Are you deaf?”

“No, I’d just prefer not to get naked in front of them,” I hissed.

She laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, your preferences don’t matter anymore.”

The king’s cloak was far from a rag, but I slid it off my body and placed it on the rocky edge of the water. The shorter guard gathered it up and held it out for his friend to view, their eyebrows disappearing under the visors of their black helmets.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“None of your business,” I said, scrubbing the rough soap over my skin.

The guards huddled in the corner, studying the cloak. When they moved apart, they watched me with suspicion but didn’t bother me with further questions.

“What’s your name?” Grendal asked as I passed her the soap.

---