Chapter Twenty Five
The tavern door groaned when Rhael pushed it open, the sound breaking through the steady murmur of conversation that filled the old, small space.
The official name of the place was ‘The Traders Falcon’, but most only called it the tavern, or the trading post. It was the only place in the entire slums that I had once vowed to never set foot in again.
Warmth spilled out at first, thick, stale and heavy with bodies, followed by the smell of stale ale, damp wool and sweat. The scent struck me greater than the heat and my spine stiffened automatically in response.
The building crouched low beneath its sagging beams, the ceiling pressed down by years of smoke that had blackened the wood to near charcoal. Lanterns hung unevenly from iron hooks, their light dim and amber. Creating pockets of gold that dissolved quickly into shadows.
Conversations swelled and dipped like a restless tide depending on who walked past which table.
The tavern was a place where people came to make deals that could not be spoken about in the open.
The trading of lives like they were coins, not caring for the destruction they caused.
My life had been traded here, and yet the walls did not remember me. I was nothing to any of them.
The rope around my wrists tugged gently as Rhael walked further inside, summoning me to follow him across a carpet that looked as though it had seen better days.
I kept my head down at the correct angle that all slaves used. Not too submissive, but not defiant, a careful balance I had perfected a long time ago.
Rhael’s dark cloak swallowed most of him. The hood cast deep shadows over his features, to anyone watching, he was simply another cloaked buyer from somewhere wealthier than the slums. Only I could feel the tension radiating through him, see it as he moved between tables.
The tavern quietened, not completely, but subtly as people began to track our movements. Women were not uncommon in the tavern, but one bound always signalled an opportunity for those who thought I would offer something for them to gain.
I had first come to the tavern when I was nineteen years old. My uncle had dragged me here early one morning, kicking, screaming and cursing as I fought him every step of the way. He had already made the deal to sell me to Fion, and it was finally delivery day.
There had been many girls that day. Some of them quiet and crying, others begging to be let go. None of it had a positive outcome. All of us had been sold anyway.
I shuffled forward as Rhael guided me to a table near the back wall, positioned with deliberate strategy in mind. From there we could see the entrance, the staircase leading to the guest rooms upstairs and most of the main floor without him turning his head.
We sat, Rhael positioning me beside him, close enough so that our arms brushed together. The rope remained in his hands, but he loosened it, subtly, so that it no longer pulled on my skin whilst I knotted my hands beneath the table.
The first person I noticed, when I looked around was the barmaid, her eyes flicked to me every time she was not busying herself inside the bar.
Her dress was simple linen, sleeves rolled to her elbows, she looked human, her face lighting up as she smiled to patrons across the room, creating a welcoming atmosphere as much as she could.
The barmaids gaze flicked to Rhael briefly, her icy blue eyes moving from him to me.
Her honey blonde hair, falling loose around her shoulders, was quickly pushed from her face.
I watched her for a moment, shifting uncomfortably as she fixated on the rope around my wrists.
Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment before she looked away once more.
“People are watching,” I whispered leaning closer to Rhael's shoulder, trying to make sure no one could hear me.
“I know,” he whispered in response, two words tight with tension as he tried to sink further into the dusty upholstered seats. Like a predator waiting for his prey.
The tavern resumed its rhythm around us. Dice clattered at a nearby table, a group of Orcs sat creating noise and fuss in one corner whilst upstairs a door slammed followed by muffled laughter which held no humour. I let my gaze wander, taking in everything around me.
There were miners to my left, still coated in dust, sitting with women painted in tired rouge who lent into their shoulders. Hoping to sell themselves for something in return. The smell of salt and brine filtered through my nose.
The slum was not close enough to the sea for it to be that strong. Yet the scent still lingered, woven between smoke and sweat. Rhael noticed it too, his hand clenching into a fist. His eyes scanned faces rather than just watching the room.
The barmaid walked over, two tankers in her hands. She placed them before us, her face turning into a scowl as Rhael pushed my tanker away with the back of his hands.
“She doesn't drink?” The barmaid asked, keeping her hands on her hips eyeing Rhael suspiciously.
“She doesn't need to.” Rhael replied, his voice gruff, as his shoulder slumped forward.
“I suppose she doesn't talk either?” She asked, not bothering to hide her eye roll. Leaning forward to pick up the tanker I saw her try to peek at Rhael’s face to no avail.
“Not unless asked to,” he snapped, making it clear that he was not in any mood for an argument or anyone else's opinions. I had wanted to laugh, to tell the poor barmaid that as much as she wanted to argue with him, she would not win, I had experience in that.
The barmaid scowled at him before walking away, her hips swaying as she returned to the bar. Her eyes continued to flick to us once every so often. Her disapproval for him was as clear as her pity for me.
We settled back into our seats. Watching as the tavern door opened twice but no one of note came in. I could feel Rhael getting more cautious, more agitated as we were made to wait longer.
“She is already here.” He murmured, finally talking to me.
“Where?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes on the floor, to hide the fear slowly twisting in my stomach.
“Close. She is watching,” he whispered again, leaning closer this time and retightening the rope. It was time for our performance to begin, and I knew it would have to be a long game.
If the Siren Queen had been here watching, there was no idea what she already did or did not know. She could have seen Rhael untie my ropes already, or we could have been lucky, and it would have been something she missed. Although I hated that we had to rely on luck. It was very rarely on my side.
A man approaching our table drew me out of my deep thoughts. He was broad shouldered and thick through the middle, his cheeks flushed from drink. His beard was uneven and the smell of stale alcohol rolled off him in waves. Confidence filled his eyes as he swaggered over the table.
“Well now, that is a fine one,” he smirked, his large sausage looking fingers resting on the table as he leaned forwards, his eyes lingered on me, moving up and down slowly.
“She's not for sale.” Rhael said, his voice was steady, but his hands tightened on the rope beneath the table as he fought for control. The tavern noise around us dulled as nearby ears strained to listen to the conversation.
“Everything is for sale, just for the night. I will pay you generously for your time without such a pretty little thing.” The man laughed as he crouched down lower to my level, his hand reaching out to stroke across my cheek.
His calloused touch making me want to vomit or tell him to fuck off. Instead, I leant backwards away from him, my eyes narrowed as I pressed myself into the seat. Ignoring the dust that pushed from the seat out into the air.
It was not the first time someone had offered to purchase me for a night. Fion had received offers before and if the price was right he would have always agreed. I couldn’t help but feel that familiar weight of panic in my chest. Just wondering if Rhael would be cold enough to do the same.
“She is not yours to purchase,” Rhael explained, each word measured as he rose slowly to his full height. The movement alone was enough to draw attention, most conversations stopped in their tracks, heads turning to look at us. So much for laying low.
“Anything is worth purchasing. Name your price. I will be gentle, friend.” The man scoffed, pushing out his chest as if he thought he could truly take on Rhael and beat him in a battle of wills.
Friend. The word had barely left his mouth when Rhael’s hand moved, too fast for human eyes to track. The man's wrist was caught in Rhael’s grip, twisted just enough to bring the human to his knees without breaking a bone. A sound of shock escaped from his throne before he registered the pain.
The tavern was silent save for some chairs being pushed back against the floor, as the man's friends stood up in outrage. Rhael did not falter. His grip tightened as the man tried to wrench free and failed.
“She is mine. You do not get to barter for something that is not yours to buy.” He snarled, his face leaning down to the man's level as he knelt on the floor. His hood slipped back allowing the candle light to catch his eyes which had, once more turned completely pitch black.
Every breath caught within the room as they all recognised that he was not human. Fae. The word moved like a breathless whisper as Rhael released the man abruptly. Pushing him back into the old, battered carpet, the human scrambling away on his hands and knees.
Knowing his ruse was up he sat back at the table, no longer trying to hide who he was. Anger coiled within him as he squared his shoulder in the seat.
It was not long before another figure approached our table. The tavern had returned to its original atmosphere, conversation filling the space. Eyes still watched us cautiously, but no one said a word.
The new figure looked almost elven, save for the magic that seemed to cling to her skin. Long pale blonde hair tied in a braid, lying flat against her petite frame. Sparkling green eyes accompanied high cheekbones in effortless grace as she sat down opposite Rhael.
“You seemed to have made quite a scene, King Rhael.” She mused, her voice smooth as a knowing look crossed her face. One leg crossed over the other as she braced her long slender fingers over her knee.
“I always aim to please My Queen.” Rhael’s voice comes out smooth as a small smile plays on his lips.
The Siren Queen had arrived, and it was time for the game to begin.