Chapter 7 — Sold
By the time Amara saw land again, she had stopped counting the days.
The storm had damaged the ship badly enough to change Rourke's plans. The rendezvous with the second vessel never happened, and after days of repairs and arguments among the crew, they continued west.
Amara spent most of that journey watching, listening, and waiting.
She never told Rourke who her father was.
He asked repeatedly.
She gave him different answers depending on her mood.
A merchant.
A landowner.
A trader.
Once, when Briggs demanded to know exactly how wealthy her family was, she told him her father owned fourteen goats and an unusually successful chicken.
Briggs stared at her.
Lela laughed for nearly five minutes.
It was one of the few good moments of the voyage.
But eventually the ocean ended.
At dawn, Thomas opened their door and quietly told them to prepare themselves.
“For what?”
“We're entering port.”
Amara stood immediately.
“Where?”
Thomas hesitated.
“I shouldn't tell you.”
“Then whisper.”
Despite himself, his mouth almost moved into a smile.
He gave her the name of the port.
It meant nothing to Amara.
She had heard of the region, but she had never visited it. It was on the other side of an ocean, unimaginably far from her father's palace.
Lela looked frightened.
Amara touched her hand.
“We stay together.”
Thomas looked away.
Something about that movement disturbed her.
“What?”
He said nothing.
“Thomas.”
“I don't know what Rourke intends.”
“You know something.”
“I heard Briggs talking.”
“About what?”
Thomas glanced toward the passage.
“They're selling the prisoners.”
Amara stared at him.
For several seconds she could not understand the sentence.
“Selling?”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“People?”
He nodded.
The word struck her harder than the storm had.
Amara knew slavery existed. She knew people were kidnapped, traded, transported and sold. Her father's government had fought traffickers along parts of the coast and punished men caught abducting villagers.
But knowledge from council reports was one thing.
Standing inside a locked room and realizing that someone intended to put a price on her body was something else entirely.
Lela whispered, “They can't.”
Amara looked at her.
Of course they could.
That was the terrible truth.
They could do anything until somebody stopped them.
Her fear turned cold.
“Thomas, listen to me. If you ever have an opportunity to send a message—”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“They'll kill me.”
“And if you do nothing, what happens to us?”
He looked at the floor.
Amara softened her voice. “I am not asking you to die for me. Remember my name. Amara. Remember Rourke. Remember this ship. If you ever meet someone searching for two women taken from Africa, tell them what you know.”
Thomas finally met her eyes.
“I'll remember.”
“That is enough.”
For now.
The harbor was enormous.
When Amara and Lela were brought onto the deck, they saw forests of masts, warehouses, docks, carts, horses, sailors, merchants and buildings stretching along the waterfront.
The noise was overwhelming after weeks at sea.
Amara searched desperately for anything familiar.
A flag.
A merchant ship from home.
A face.
Nothing.
Rourke stood near the gangway wearing clean clothes for the first time since she had met him. He looked almost respectable.
That made Amara hate him more.
Briggs removed the ropes from her wrists and replaced them with a less visible restraint.
“Walk.”
Amara remained still.
“Where?”
“You'll find out.”
“I already did.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Thomas talks too much.”
Amara immediately realized her mistake.
“He didn't tell me.”
“Then who did?”
“You. Eventually.”
Briggs frowned.
Amara smiled.
“See how useful you are?”
He grabbed her arm.
She looked down at his hand.
“Remove it.”
“You still think you're important.”
“No. I know I am.”
He leaned closer. “Not here.”
Amara's smile disappeared.
That was the first thing Briggs had ever said to her that truly hurt.
Not because she believed him.
Because she understood what he meant.
Here, nobody knew her.
No guards bowed when she entered a room. No ministers knew her voice. No royal seal could open a gate. Her clothes were worn, her jewelry had been taken, and her family was thousands of miles away.
To everyone watching, she was simply another captive woman.
Amara lifted her chin.
“Remove your hand.”
Something in her expression made Briggs release her.
He muttered, “Impossible woman.”
“That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”
They were taken through the harbor district to a guarded building.
Other captives were already there.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Amara stopped when she saw them.
Some looked exhausted. Others stared at nothing. A mother held a small child tightly against her chest.
Amara's anger became almost unbearable.
These people were not cargo.
They were not numbers in a council report.
They had names.
Families.
Homes.
Someone somewhere might be searching for them too.
Rourke pushed her forward.
“Keep moving.”
Amara turned.
“You do this regularly.”
He smiled without humor. “I do many things.”
“How do you sleep?”
“Very comfortably.”
“One day you won't.”
His smile disappeared.
Amara continued walking.
She memorized the building.
Two entrances.
Four visible guards.
Windows high on the walls.
A courtyard behind it.
A gate leading toward another street.
Always watch.
Always remember.
The sale took place the following morning.
Amara had slept very little.
She and Lela were washed, given clean but simple dresses, and brought into a large courtyard.
Several buyers waited there.
Some examined documents.
Others spoke with agents.
Amara understood enough English to follow much of what was happening.
Prices.
Age.
Health.
Strength.
Skills.
Human beings discussed as though they were horses.
Her stomach turned.
Lela whispered, “I'm scared.”
“So am I.”
“What do we do?”
“Stay close to me.”
“What if they separate us?”
Amara did not answer.
She had spent the night thinking about exactly that possibility.
If someone tried to take Lela away, Amara intended to create enough trouble that buying either of them would become deeply unattractive.
Rourke approached.
“You will answer questions.”
“No.”
He stopped.
It was such a simple word.
Amara had used it all her life.
No, she would not marry Prince Kofi.
No, she would not remain inside the palace.
No, she would not stop arguing with ministers.
Now the word meant something different.
Rourke stared at her. “This is not your father's house.”
“I noticed.”
“You have no position here.”
“I still have a voice.”
“Not one that matters.”
“That remains to be seen.”
He stepped closer.
“If you cause trouble, your friend pays for it.”
Amara's expression changed.
Rourke smiled.
He had finally found something that frightened her more than threats against herself.
“Understand?”
Amara looked toward Lela.
Then back at him.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He walked away.
Amara whispered, “I am going to kill him.”
Lela looked alarmed.
“Not today.”
“That does not make it better.”
The first buyer asked Amara whether she could cook.
“Yes,” she said.
Lela looked at her in surprise.
Amara could not cook.
Not even slightly.
“What can you prepare?” the man asked.
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Food.”
The buyer frowned.
Rourke closed his eyes.
The man moved on.
Another asked whether she could sew.
“Beautifully.”
That was also a lie.
“What kind of stitching?”
Amara considered.
“The kind involving thread.”
Lela made a strange choking sound beside her.
Rourke pulled Amara aside.
“What are you doing?”
“Answering questions.”
“You are deliberately making yourself impossible to sell.”
“Is it working?”
His jaw tightened.
Amara smiled.
Unfortunately, it was not working well enough.
Her education became obvious almost immediately. She spoke English far too well. She could read. She carried herself with confidence even in plain clothing. Her hands showed little evidence of heavy labor.
Several buyers became more interested, not less.
One asked where she had learned English.
“My tutors.”
Rourke turned sharply.
Amara realized the mistake immediately.
“What tutors?” he demanded.
“Very unsuccessful ones.”
But it was too late.
A buyer studied her closely.
“She comes from money.”
Rourke smiled.
“I've been saying that.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Amara wanted to hit both of them.
Instead she remained silent.
Then another man entered the courtyard.
He was older, well dressed, accompanied by an agent. Unlike the others, he did not immediately inspect the captives.
He spoke quietly with Rourke, examined several papers, and then looked toward Amara and Lela.
The agent approached them.
“Names?”
“Amara.”
“Family name?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“Your family name.”
“I heard the question.”
“And?”
“No.”
The agent stared.
Behind him, Rourke muttered something unpleasant.
The older man watched Amara with growing curiosity.
“Can you read?”
“Yes.”
“Write?”
“Yes.”
“Accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Languages?”
“Several.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You were educated.”
“Very.”
“What was your father's occupation?”
Amara looked directly at him.
“He managed a large organization.”
Lela lowered her head.
Technically, that was true.
“How large?”
“Very.”
“Trade?”
“Among other things.”
Rourke stepped forward. “Her family was wealthy.”
Amara glanced at him. “You continue to underestimate them.”
The older man studied her for several seconds.
Then he spoke quietly to his agent.
Amara could not hear everything.
But she heard a price.
A large one.
Her body went cold.
Someone had just placed a monetary value on her life.
She looked toward the sky.
For one dangerous moment, tears threatened.
She thought of her father.
Her mother.
Her brothers.
The palace gardens.
Sanaa.
Home.
No.
She would not cry here.
Not for these men.
Amara lowered her eyes until the emotion passed.
When she looked up again, her face was calm.
The negotiations continued.
Then the situation became worse.
The older man wanted Amara.
Another buyer wanted Lela.
“No,” Amara said immediately.
Rourke looked at her.
“You were told to be quiet.”
“We stay together.”
“That isn't your decision.”
“It is now.”
The second buyer reached for Lela.
Amara stepped between them.
“Don't touch her.”
He laughed and tried to move around her.
Amara moved with him.
Rourke grabbed her shoulder.
She turned so quickly that he barely avoided being struck.
“Enough!”
The courtyard went silent.
Amara's breathing was hard.
Rourke leaned close.
“You are going to learn obedience.”
She looked straight into his eyes.
“No.”
Again that word.
No title.
No soldiers.
No royal clothing.
Just Amara.
And no.
The older buyer unexpectedly laughed.
Rourke turned toward him.
“I'll purchase both.”
Lela looked at Amara.
Amara said nothing.
The price was renegotiated.
Money changed hands.
Documents were signed.
It happened with horrifying efficiency.
Less than an hour later, Rourke approached Amara for the final time.
“You belong to someone else now.”
She stared at him.
“I belong to myself.”
“Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep.”
“I will see you again.”
Rourke smiled. “I doubt it.”
“I don't.”
Something in her voice made him stop smiling.
“My family will find me.”
“They haven't yet.”
“They will.”
“And when they do?”
Amara stepped closer.
“When they do, Rourke, I would strongly recommend that you be very far away.”
For the first time, she saw uncertainty in his eyes.
Only for a second.
It was enough.
Amara and Lela were taken from the courtyard together.
That was the only victory Amara could claim.
A carriage waited outside.
The older man's agent directed them inside and locked the door.
Through the small window, Amara watched the harbor disappear behind them.
She had crossed an ocean.
She had survived a storm.
She had been kidnapped, imprisoned and now sold.
Her captors believed the process had stripped away everything that had once protected her.
In some ways, they were right.
They had taken her jewelry.
Her clothes.
Her freedom.
Her name meant nothing here.
But they had failed to take the most dangerous thing she possessed.
Her memory.
Amara remembered Rourke.
She remembered Briggs.
She remembered the ship.
She remembered the building.
She remembered faces, locks, roads and voices.
And somewhere across the ocean, although she could not know it, those same names and routes were beginning to appear on maps covering the walls of her father's palace.
The people who had stolen her believed they had sold an enslaved woman.
They had no idea they had sold a king's daughter.
And they had even less idea what would happen when the King finally found out where she was.