Page 9 of The Demon's Tongue

5

GENEVA

Unfortunately, Julia and Margaret weren't bought along with me. Instead, there's a different human girl sitting across from me in this carriage, tears in her eyes as she stares out the window.

Her name is Tatiana, and she's not one of Miss Pickett's own. She's blonde with kind blue eyes and marks along her arms and legs that are proof that she's been whipped before.

The carriage jostles us as it rolls along the cobbled path. Tatiana sniffles, trying frantically to wipe away the tears that keep coming. I can’t blame her for crying; the future we’re heading into is bleak.

“You think it’s true what they say about dark elves?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

I keep my eyes on the window, the passing scenery a blur. “Depends on which rumors you’ve heard. Most of them, probably.”

Her sobs grow louder, and I reach out, grabbing her hand. “Hey, don’t fall apart now. We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what? We’ve been sold!”

“Well, maybe we can fight back. In some ways,” I mutter, squeezing the hidden crystals in my pocket.

The manor looms ahead, its spires piercing the sky like skeletal fingers. We come to a halt, and the door swings open. A servant ushers us out, leading us through a labyrinth of hallways until we’re standing before an opulent door.

It swings open, revealing Sylas, our new master. His eyes are as cold as the ice-covered peaks of the north, and his smile doesn’t reach them.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, voice smooth but devoid of warmth. “You’ll find your new roles here quite... engaging.”

Tatiana steps back, her grip on my hand tightening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll serve as maids. Tending to the household and our esteemed guests,” he explains, waving a hand dismissively.

I grit my teeth. “And by ‘esteemed guests,’ you mean those who pay for our company?”

His smile widens, showing a hint of sharp teeth. “Precisely. You catch on quickly. You’ll be lent out to them as part of your duties.”

Tatiana gasps, and I can feel her trembling beside me. I force myself to meet his gaze, the crystals pressing into my palm. “And if we refuse?”

Sylas' eyes glint with a dangerous amusement as he steps closer. Tatiana’s grip on my hand tightens, her knuckles turning white. I feel a surge of defiance but swallow it down for now. There will be a time for rebellion, but this isn't it.

"Disobedience," Sylas begins, his voice silky and menacing, "will result in severe punishment. Understand this: I control every aspect of your lives now."

Tatiana’s voice wavers. "What kind of punishment?"

Sylas' smile widens. "Ah, curiosity. It’s charming, but also dangerous. Let’s say, a night in the dungeon will make you think twice about defiance. Or perhaps a session with the whip."

I meet his gaze, refusing to look away. "We’re not animals."

"True," he says, tilting his head. "But you’re commodities. And commodities must be managed."

Tatiana’s tears fall freely now. "Please, we’ll do what you ask. Just don’t hurt us."

He waves a hand dismissively. "That’s the spirit. Compliance will make your lives here much more pleasant. Now, let’s get you both settled."

Sylas claps his hands twice, which prompts a servant to appear, bowing low. “The rooms are prepared, Master Sylas.”

“Excellent. Take them to their quarters and ensure they understand their responsibilities,” he orders, turning away from us as if we’re already forgotten.

We’re led down another series of hallways, each one more lavish than the last. Tatiana clings to me, her breaths shallow and quick. “What are we going to do, Geneva?”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my own racing heart. “We survive. That's our only option."

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