Page 17 of WarBride

Then I dart for his belt and slip free one of those two gleaming knives. Quick as a flash, I whip it to his throat and freeze. Caught in the intensity of his stare. Caught in that space between life and death, knowing that I, with this feeble blade clutched in my hand, boast no power over either.

The crowd roars with laughter. Jeers and taunts in many languages split the night, and Lurodos’s bellow nearly drowns out all others. My hand trembles. I stare into my captor’s eyes—black eyes, so dark the pupils are utterly lost. Long, thick lashes fan his cheeks as he blinks solemnly, waiting for me to do something. Anything. Testing my mettle.

I’ve never killed a man. I’m not sure how. It should be simple: a vicious slice, a gush of hot blood. Of course if I kill him, there are a thousand more to take his place. But at least I’ll die with the knowledge I didn’t go quietly. That must be worth something.

A wordless cry on my lips, I begin to move my stolen knife. The blade never makes contact with his skin. Long fingers close around my wrist, twisting painfully. The next moment I’m pivoted on my feet, and a powerful arm locks around my chest, yanking me back hard against that muscled torso.

“I don’t want to humiliate you in front of these witnesses.” His voice is a threat of distant thunder rumbling in my head. “I will help you. I will save your life. But you must not fight me.”

“Skewer you!” I snarl and throw my head back, trying to break his nose. He anticipates me and avoids the blow, stillmaintaining that grip on my wrist, my arm wrenched up behind my back so that I can do nothing but whimper in his grasp.

“Steady now,zylnala,” he murmurs. “Steady.”

With those words he marches me to the top of the stairs, where the auction master still stands. There’s nothing I can do but go where he forces me.

8

TAAR

What in the nine hells have I done?

The Noxaurian auction master hisses with delight as I drop the sack of coin into his hand. It is, as Lurodos guessed, the entirety of my payment from Ruvaen. For a moment, as I watch the man heft that sack, as I listen to theclinkof those silver heds, I see the faces of my dead: six men and two women, all of whom I’ve known since childhood. Warriors with whom I’ve bled, suffered, wept, and rejoiced over years of hard-won existence in the ruins of what was once our homeland. They gave their lives last night, but for what? A little pouch of silver to increase our feeble standing among the lords and ladies of Eledria?

No. They fought and they died for the hope of reclaiming Evisar. Nothing more; nothing less.

So I watch that sack of silver disappear into the auction master’s tunic, and I suppose it is coin well spent. Might as well buy the life of this woman rather than let the silver molder in some forgotten corner of mydakath.Though I’m not sure my people will see the situation in quite the same light.

“Her cloak,” I say, holding out my hand to the auction master.

He drapes the stained and tattered garment across my arm and grins, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. “Have a most excellent night, your lordship.”

The muscles in the girl’s arm tense beneath my grasp. Gods damn the man, is she not frightened enough as it is? I flash my teeth in a snarl but make no answer as I guide her down from the platform. She goes unwillingly, resisting even when doing sosends new shots of pain up her arm and shoulder. Where does she think she’ll go if she breaks free?

Halfway down, however, she goes suddenly still then shrinks back into me. I look beyond her to where Lurodos stands, waiting to greet us at the base of the stairs. His gaze rakes slowly over her body, appraising every curve and angle. Finally he flicks that gaze to meet mine.

“Well, Taar, my friend,” he says, speaking in growling Noxaurian. “I hope you plan to ride her and ride her hard. If not, come dawn, she is mine. In fact . . .” He takes out his own sack of silver, payment from Ruvaen, and sets it down on the edge of the platform, just at the feet of the auction master. “Payment in advance—testimony of my confidence. You’re not man enough to do what you must to keep her from me.” He turns his attention back to the girl. Though she stands three steps up from the ground, her head is just about level with his. “My appetite will only be whetted with suspense,” he purrs, shifting his words to common Eledrian, which she will understand in her own tongue. “I look forward to getting to know you better. Meanwhile, sleep well and dream of me.”

I push from behind. The girl staggers forward, tripping down the last few steps. Only my grip on her arm keeps her upright, but I shift my hold slightly so as not to cause her pain. “Back off, Lurodos,” I snarl. “Go find some other poor soul to torment. This one is mine.”

“For the moment,” he replies, eyes half-lidded as he backs away slowly. “For the moment, yes.”

I hasten into the crowd, which parts to make room for us as we go. Blood pounds in my ears. I’m not familiar with Noxaurian customs, but I do know the fae are rigid when it comes to rules and rites. What sorts of laws govern the buying and selling of warbrides? Is there any truth in what Lurodos is claiming, or is he only trying to unnerve me?

If it is true . . . I may have bought this woman only a few hours’ reprieve.

The crowd laughs and makes crude remarks as we pass, but otherwise loses interest in us as the next human prisoner is dragged onto that platform, and the bidding begins once more. Just as we reach the end of the mob, however, I find myself face-to-face with Ruvaen. He stands with his arms crossed, a bemused expression on his face. “Well!” he says, grinning broadly from me to the girl and back again. “That was spectacular, I must say. I do enjoy seeing Lurodos taken down a notch or two.” He lifts an eyebrow and tips his head a little to one side. “I only hope you have the necessary follow-through.”

I meet his gaze, silent.

The prince chuckles, shoulders heaving with mirth. “Come, man, didn’t you know? The law of warbrides requires a wedding ceremony immediately upon purchase followed by a consummation, which must take place before dawn. If either of these requirements is unmet, the next highest bidder may claim his winnings at first light.” He tips his chin, looking at me from beneath the ledge of his brow. “You have until dawn, my friend.” He turns to the girl once more and looks her up and down. “There’s a pretty creature under all that grime. I trust you won’t find the task too onerous.”

It feels as though all the wind has been driven from my lungs. This was not what I’d anticipated, not in the least. I’d thought I’d pay the fee, get her away from the spire, away from Lurodos and his monsters, and just . . . turn her loose. If there’s one thing I need even less than a slave, it’s a bride. Particularly an unwilling, murderously hateful bride.

My throat is tight. I force my next words out in a painful rasp. “What sort of ceremony? For the wedding, I mean.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the prince replies easily. “Whatever is suitable for your own people.”

I look down at the girl, who’s staring determinedly at the ground, her jaw clenched tight. She’s a pathetic sight, her gown torn, her skin stained with mud and blood, her hair pulled free from its pins and falling in snarls about her shoulders. Still beautiful, though. Undeniably beautiful, though I curse myself for noticing. Beauty or not, she is a human and, therefore, my natural enemy. Not the woman I would have chosen to take as my wife under any circumstances.

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