12. Masters Lie
R ose wondered what he meant but was afraid to ask. Whatever his plans, they couldn’t be anything good, not for her. Unease churned her belly.
“So doubtful, my Rose.” He buttoned his deep blue suit jacket and then held out a hand. She stared at it, at the long and graceful fingers and his smooth palm. Her own were rough and callused from her years of work.
It was another reminder of their differences.
“Come,” he ordered, shaking his hand in demand.
She did not take it. But she did stand.
With a quiet sigh, he led the way through the palace. Rose ignored the curious glances of the servants and staff they passed, keeping her head down, shoulders low, and eyes on the feet of the Prince in front of her. Eventually, they came to an area of the palace where she’d never been. When they exited, she followed Prince Adrian down a stone path.
At one of the big buildings where the carriages were kept, a modest white vehicle already had a team of horses hooked up. Prince Adrian patted the cheek of the lead stallion and greeted Javier and the driver.
“Everything is ready? ”
“Yes, but I highly recommend rethinking this, Your Highness,” Javier said.
“You’ve made your opinion clear, Javier, now shut up about it.”
Rose, trying to keep her head down as she discreetly watched the big black stallion, stepped closer to him. He snorted, stomping a hoof as he noticed her and stretched his head closer. Smiling, hoping no one noticed, she took another small step.
“Hello, pretty boy.”
No one was paying attention, so she lifted a hand to stroke the horse’s soft neck. He sniffed her hair and then huffed against her cheek. Still smiling, she petted his velvety muzzle. When he stomped again and nudged her shoulder, she reached up to scratch one of his ears.
“You’ll leave when the Prince is ready,” she said softly, to which he shook his head and nipped at Prince Adrian. The Prince pulled his arm out of the way just in time and gave the horse a firm tap on his nose.
“Behave, or you will stay here.”
The stallion shook his head, showing his teeth, and turned his head to nip at the horse next to him. The other horse, a black and white, laid his ears back and bared his teeth in warning.
“Enough!” Prince Adrian said firmly, taking hold of the black horse’s head while one of the footmen took the other’s. The stallion tugged his head free and then turned back to Rose, rubbing his head on her arm.
“I like your spirit,” she said softly while he nickered. He lipped a piece of her hair, and she tugged it free. He nipped at her, and she smartly tapped his nose and then froze as she realized the Prince was watching her, Javier too. She bowed immediately. “I apologize, Your Highness.”
“Such insolence now,” Javier said. “Just imagine, Your Highness, what she will be like when you return! ”
“Indeed.” Prince Adrian motioned Rose toward the open carriage door. “Come. The city awaits us.”
Us? Rose gave a short shake of her head and backed away. Masters never took their slaves anywhere.
Unless they were selling them.
What a fool she was. Dinner had been to soften her, to make her more amenable, and put her at her best for the traders she’d be sold to. The truth of the evening had the contents of her belly threatening to come back up.
And Larkin, she would miss him terribly.
“Rose. Come.” Prince Adrian motioned again, and when she didn’t move, grabbed her elbow to drag her. She resisted, digging in her heels. “Why must you be so bloody difficult?”
“For once, she’s showing she knows her place,” Javier said loudly.
Prince Adrian spun to face him. “You will clean the toilets while we are gone. I don’t believe Rose will be back to work this evening. Finish for her.”
Though the words were in defense of her, they confirmed her suspicions. Bile rose in her throat.
It was almost worth Javier’s face going deathly pale as his mouth gaped open. And then, as he snapped it shut, he went scarlet in embarrassment. “Ex-excuse me, sir?”
“You heard me. I am tired of your comments and attitude. Clean every commode in my wing. I will check them when we return.” When Javier continued staring dumbly, he said, “Find Ms. Shea for supplies. Now .”
Javier stalked off, grumbling about unreasonable Princes, and then Prince Adrian turned back to Rose. “Up with you.”
Fisting her hands at her sides, she refused.
She would never willingly face a sale .
What had she done to deserve this life? And how could she endure more? She’d almost died in the palace, and that was with the Prince standing up for her.
Something in her threatened to break at the thought of returning to worse.
Even though she thrashed like a wildcat, he managed to bodily force her into the carriage, tossing her on the seat. Chest heaving, arms folded, she glared at him on the opposite bench, gratified at the red mark on his cheek. His expression was thunderous, nostrils flaring with every breath as he fought his temper and rapped on the roof to get them moving.
“You’re lucky I don’t whip your ass raw for that, Rose.”
Eyeing the door, she contemplated her chances of escape without breaking a limb.
“Don’t you fucking dare. I will restrain you. This trip is for your benefit.”
“ Masters lie ,” she spit.
“I do not lie. After all I’ve done for you, you should trust me.”
On a bump, she had to steady herself with her hands on the seat. She’d never been in a carriage before. Her previous masters had all made her walk, run, or be dragged behind. Swaying with the motion, she ignored the Prince’s amused eyes.
Stupid, insufferable, lying, asshole royal was laughing at her.
Turning away from him, she watched the palace grounds pass. The manicured lawns were still dull with winter; the beauty of the white palace with its tall windows, variegated rooflines, towers and balconies, and shining red domes was a striking contrast.
And she would never see it again.
A flock of birds flew out of a bare tree to settle on the lawn. They took to the sky as the carriage rolled by, screaming at being disturbed. More lawn spread before them, and Rose wondered if the King and Queen ever held events on the large expanse of grass. It seemed perfect for a summer game of croquet or a sunny tea. Manicured trees lined the long lane, and she thought there should be more flowers.
As they passed through the large gate that opened to Crimson City, Rose stared at the long length of the stone wall. Larger than she’d thought—both taller and wider—with towers stationed at regular intervals, she’d never stood a chance at escaping. Climbing that thing, all smooth-mortared stone with no obvious hand or footholds, would have been impossible. Perhaps she could have infiltrated one of the towers and gotten out that way, but she now thought that highly unlikely.
There were a lot of guards patrolling, more than she’d thought.
Morose and in need of a distraction, she turned her attention to the first buildings of the city. Though she’d never been there, she could tell from the grandiose sizes and building materials that this was the wealthy district. There were window boxes on some of the establishments, and trees planted in some of the small green spaces between the cobbled street and stone sidewalk. Others flanked the buildings, spread farther apart than Rose would have thought.
That changed as they went deeper into the city. Green became more scarce, the buildings closer together and made more from wood than the wealthier materials in the upper-class district. There were more people, too, vampires coming out with the coming dusk, waving at each other from the shops, talking and laughing.
The deeper they went, the more bile rose in her throat. Bitter and regretful, Rose squeezed her hands in her lap and tried to hide her fear.
The carriage stopped in front of a large open building. It was more of a pavilion, tall and wooden, covering the area where several vampire males stood waiting on their customers. The human slaves they were selling were all chained up behind them.
Sun God above, she didn’t want to be one of them again.
But the Gods had never listened to her before. Why would they now?
The carriage door opened, and Prince Adrian got out. Holding out a hand to her, his stony expression dared her to disobey. Trying to hide how her muscles trembled, she stepped down to the street, where Prince Adrian took a firm grip on her arm.
“Do not cause a scene,” he hissed in her ear before dragging her past the pavilion and to the building behind it.
The three-story wooden structure housed the slave traders’ offices. Below ground were the cells where the slaves were chained so they didn’t escape. There they waited until someone was interested in purchasing them. Some waited so long that they died.
Rose tried not to think of the days and nights she’d spent in such cells.
Inside the entry, dimly lit by wall sconces, two vampire males, both average height and build, talked quietly. They froze when they saw the Prince and then bowed deeply.
“Your Highness. What brings you here this fine evening?”
“I have an appointment with Henri.”
“Ah, yes. Right this way, sir.”
They were led down a hallway to an office where an older, balding vampire male worked behind a large desk overflowing with papers. The office was mostly dark, lit by only a single candle on the desk. The male, presumably Henri, looked up as his associate appeared in the doorway, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of Prince Adrian in his royal blue. He shot to his feet to bow.
“Your Highness, I did not expect you so soon. Sit, sit, please.” He motioned to the only chair, but the Prince ignored it.
“I am not here to chat. Did you find the records I requested?”
“Your Highness, I have been searching since your original inquiry. I even questioned the other slave markets throughout the kingdom. The only thing that is known of slave”—he pulled a paper from under the one he was working on and read—“one-five-nine-six-oh-three is that she came to us as a child of indeterminate age from somewhere in the south.”
“Who sold her?”
“There is no record, sir.”
“Who purchased her?”
“There is no record of that either, Your Highness. I apologize, but the only information we have is what I have just told you.”
“I would expect your organization to keep better records than this.” The glowing red eyes, haughty attitude, and mighty tone spoke of the Prince’s displeasure.
“Yes, sir, Your Highness, I realize this,” Henri replied, sweating bullets. “Normally, we note the origin of our slaves, who is selling them to us and why, whether there are any issues of note such as behavior difficulties or any attributes that could, um, make the slave more or less, uh, valuable . We usually do list any and all buyers as well, and the details of each transaction.” He looked back down at the paper, wiping his brow. “I do sincerely apologize for the oversight on your new slave, sir.”
Prince Adrian stared at the male for another moment, the tension growing as he did, before he replied, “I am not happy and will be looking into this matter further. For now, take off her shackles.”
Certain she’d misheard, Rose’s gaze shot up.
“I—Did you say—You want to free her, sir?”
“I did not stutter. Get those damn things off her. Now.”
“I—Sir, there is a procedure. Paperwork must be filed. Approval must be granted. Her fines must be paid. ”
“You are providing me with no paperwork, just a statement that she comes from the south, which I can tell by her skin tone. Do you have a list of her previous masters and why they sold her? Can you tell me who owned her in the town of Black Down where I found her?” He stepped forward, and Henri visibly trembled at the inherent threat.
“As I said, my lord, there is nothing—”
“Then that is what I will give you. Nothing. My approval is sufficient to free her or you will be hung by your toes in my dungeon. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Your Highness. But her fines—”
“Her fines ? Are you joking? She came to you as a child of indeterminate age and has been passed from master to master ever since. If anyone owes fines, it should be those males.
“But wait, you have no record of those males. Pity, that. I assure you, you will get no coin from the crown. Now”—stepping closer to Henri, he pulled a dagger from his belt and pressed it under the slave trader’s chin, drawing a drop of blood with the tip—“stop speaking or I will cut out your tongue. Free her or the rest of your blood will stain this carpet.”
Henri glanced desperately at his colleagues watching the scene from the doorway. The two immediately left.
“M-m-my a-associates will get the k-k-keys, Your H-highness.” Henri swallowed, the sweat pouring down his face. His eyes darted to Rose, and he shivered.
Rose couldn’t believe the Prince was championing her. It couldn’t be real. Surely, she must be dreaming.
Yet, her heart hammered with hope.
Only a moment later the other two traders were back, each carrying a ring of keys. They looked to Prince Adrian, who motioned impatiently to Rose. One stepped behind her, moving her hair aside to see the lock on the back of her collar.
“This is quite aged,” he mumbled. Rose closed her eyes, willing the key to work. There was pressure, jerking on the metal, and then, “This looks to be one of the previous designs. It is badly rusted. Do you have the old keys?”
Trying not to wring her hands, trying not to vibrate with urgency, Rose heard the keys being exchanged.
Key after key was tried in her lock, to no avail.
Surely, one must work.
Please , she prayed to whatever god would listen, please .
“Let me try,” the colleague said. He switched places with the trader behind her, and Rose felt his breath on her neck as the lock was examined. “I wonder . . .” Rose opened her eyes as he moved around to her front. Taking her hands—it was so strange to be touched in a friendly manner—he examined the manacles on her wrists.
“Speak,” Prince Adrian demanded.
“Your Highness.” The trader looked up, dropping Rose’s hands and folding his own in front of him. “This looks like a design we have not used in a very long time. If I am correct, this particular lock type was used primarily by a branch no longer in operation. They sold the highest-class slaves for top gold and, as such, used the best materials and methods of restraint.”
“You are thinking of the Longhorn River branch?” Henri asked.
“Indeed,” the other trader answered with a nod.
“Do you have a key or not?” Prince Adrian asked impatiently.
“I believe so, but it will take a moment.”
“On with it then,” Prince Adrian hissed.
After a short nod, the trader disappeared, his colleague following.
“Tell me of this Longhorn River branch,” Prince Adrian ordered Henri.
“If I recall correctly, sir, it burned many years ago.”
“Burned?”
“Yes, sir. The fire was investigated but no cause was found. The remains of all the traders that worked there, and their slaves, were found in the ash after the fire was extinguished.”
There were several beats of silence, and then Prince Adrian called her name. When she looked at him, he nodded to the desk, where the document Henri had been reading from earlier still lay.
“Hand that to me.”
She stepped to the desk and picked up the paper. It was an official record, yellowed and somewhat frayed at the edges, but most of the lines were blank. As Henri had said, under the line labeled Age of Slave it said, UNKNOWN ( approximately ten years), and the date was twelve years ago, if her math was right.
“This date was the day I came to that trading station?” Rose asked, showing the paper to Prince Adrian. She tapped the line that said Date of Origination and then looked up at Henri, who seemed shocked she’d spoken, his mouth slightly open.
Prince Adrian pressed the blade into his skin, drawing more blood. “Answer her.”
Henri swallowed. “When I wrote to all the other branches, Reginald at the southernmost branch—he’s been there for many years—was the only one that responded. He sent this.” He motioned to the document.
“But . . .” Rose looked over the document again, turning it over in search of more. There was woefully little written. The line that said Seller was blank. Purchaser was blank as well. There was a small note near the date that said, Origination date unknown. Slave is returned and will be resold. “This can’t be it.”
“As I said, all we have is what is written there. ”
Rose frowned. Given this information, it had been more than twelve years since she’d first come to the slave traders, but there was no way to know by how much. She could have been with that first master for months or years. She wondered why he wasn’t listed, or the person who’d bought her next.
“When was the fire?” Rose asked.
“I-I am not certain. At least ten years, I would say, maybe longer.”
It couldn’t be connected, Rose thought. Her coming to that establishment and being sold couldn’t have had anything to do with the fire. It was probably years apart like Henri was suggesting. She was no one anyone would ever burn a building down for.
Except, the other trader had said that particular branch had sold the top slaves, the most desirable for the highest class that brought the most gold. It made her wonder where she’d come from.
Who was she? Why was she given to the slave traders in the first place?
She looked back down at the document in her hands, at the line that said Origin of Slave: SOUTH . Picturing the people that appeared in her dreams—the red-haired male with the beard and the beautiful woman—she thought of what was in the south: meadow and grassland, mostly farms and small towns. Farther than that was the Red Desert, which she couldn’t be from. Her skin was darker than those born and raised here in the north of Neigera, but it wasn’t as dark as those living that far south.
She didn’t fit into any category of person either. She had no magic so was neither witch nor sorceress. While her pointy ears suggested some elfin blood, Rose couldn’t see it. The elves had lived behind the curtain of their Mists for many years and had cut ties to Neigera. She was no shifter of any sort and didn’t even fit the mold of a proper human.
Most likely she was a bastard, a mix of many races with the true traits of none. She’d likely been sold because of it .
But that didn’t make sense either because she wouldn’t have been sold for top gold with such special locks.
“Rose?”
Looking up at the Prince, she realized he still wanted the document and handed it to him. He folded it one-handed and slipped it into his pocket as the other two traders returned. Rose stared at the large and ornate key one of them held, and her heart raced again.