Page 6 of The Demon's Tongue

The second she steps out, I dive for my pillow, fumbling for the crystals. My fingers close around them just as Miss Pickett's impatient voice sounds from the hallway.

"Geneva! We haven't got all day!"

I slip the crystals into a hidden pocket in the dress, breathing a sigh of relief. Whatever happens next, at least I have this small piece of hope. As I emerge into the hallway, bidding farewell to the small, rickety bedroom that has been mine for so long, Miss Pickett lets out a small hum.

"Finally," she mumbles.

Her bony fingers dig into my arm as she drags me down the hallway. The gauzy fabric of my new dress whispers against my skin, a constant reminder of what's to come. We stop in front of a heavy wooden door, and she turns to me with a saccharine smile that is almost nauseating to look at.

"Remember, girl. Silent and submissive," she hisses, then throws open the door.

The room beyond is a flurry of activity. Two other young women stand on raised platforms, surrounded by a whirlwind of fabric and fussing attendants. Their eyes meet mine, wide with a fear that I'm sure mirrors my own.

"Julia! Margaret!" Miss Pickett barks, and both girls flinch. "This is Geneva. She'll be joining you today."

She shoves me toward an empty platform, and I stumble, barely catching myself before I fall. As I step up, I get a better look at my companions in misery.

Julia, a willowy blonde with haunted blue eyes, offers me a trembling smile. Margaret, shorter and curvier with a riot of red curls, just nods, her jaw clenched tight.

"Now, ladies," Miss Pickett continues, pacing between us. "You've been prepared for this day your entire lives. You will bring honor to this establishment and pleasure to your newmasters. We have a reputation to uphold and I refuse to let a little wench ruin what I've worked so hard to build."

Her words make my skin crawl. I want to scream, to run, to do anything but stand here like an animal being readied for slaughter. But the weight of the crystals in my hidden pocket reminds me that I have a plan. I just need to bide my time.

An attendant approaches me, arms laden with cosmetics and hair accessories. As she begins to work, I catch Julia's eye again. She mouths something that looks like "help," and my heart breaks. I wish I could tell her it'll be okay, that we'll find a way out of this. But Miss Pickett's watchful gaze keeps me silent.

Margaret, on my other side, stands rigid as a statue as her attendant fusses with her hair. Her green eyes blaze with defiance, and for a moment, I wonder if she might actually try to make a run for it.

"Stand up straighter, Margaret. Keep standing like that and you'll make your back crooked!" Miss Pickett snaps. "And no one wants a broken, slouching slave."

Margaret's shoulders tense, but she complies. As she shifts, I notice a small bulge in her bodice. My eyes widen. Could she have managed to smuggle something in as well?

The room falls into a tense silence, broken only by the rustle of fabric and the occasional sharp command from Miss Pickett. Time seems to stretch endlessly as we're primped and polished like prized possessions.

Finally, Miss Pickett claps her hands. "Excellent. You'll do nicely." She turns to the door. "I'll fetch the transportation. Don't you dare move a muscle."

The moment she's gone, Julia lets out a choked sob. Margaret reaches out, grasping her hand tightly. I step down from my platform, moving closer to them both.

"We're in this together," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Whatever happens, I'm sure we'll be okay."

Margaret nods firmly, while Julia wipes away a tear. For a brief moment, we're united in our shared predicament, three souls against the world.

Then Miss Pickett's voice echoes down the hall, and we spring apart, resuming our poses like good little dolls. My stomach lurches at the thought of a dark elf owning me, running his disgusting hands over my skin.

But then, the demon's instructions echo in my mind. And I'm reminded of what I have to do. What Ineedto do in order to escape this life of servitude.

Capture three souls. Three lives for my freedom. And I'm willing to pay that price if it means escaping the clutches of the dark elves.

4

CALIX

The room buzzes with low murmurs and appraising glances. My eyes lock onto the human girl. She's standing on that damned platform, wearing that pathetic excuse for clothes the human woman named Miss Pickett insisted on putting on her body.

"Here we have Geneva," Miss Pickett announces, her voice oozing with feigned sweetness. So that's her name? It sounds melodic to the tongue. "Eighteen, strong, obedient. A perfect addition to any establishment."

The dark elves lean forward, their greedy eyes raking over her. A wave of jealousy surges through me. The idea of their filthy gazes on her makes my blood boil.

But this has to happen. She must go through this. It will make her stronger.

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