Chapter Four – Osric
Chapter Four
Osric
I came to the market to fail. The plan was simple: stand through the auction, buy no one, and go home to Otheera with proof that I tried. Then the first bride steps onto the stage, and my plan doesn’t matter anymore.
She wears a noblewoman’s dress, fine enough for one of their balls. She stands with her chin high while her hands shake at her sides. Her hair is deep red, pinned up the way rich humans wear it. She’s furious, and underneath the fury, she’s terrified. She’s exhilarating.
Then the clicking starts.
It rises low in my vocal cords, sharp and rhythmic, impossible to disguise as something else, and almost impossible to stop. No Scorpii female has ever pulled a single click out of me. This human woman wakes the mating call from across a crowded hall.
I lock my jaw and breathe, slow through the nose, out through my parted lips.
Around me, the other buyers nearly flinch.
Body hair rises on the arms of the wereman beside me.
The orc behind him shifts his weight and scans the hall for a threat he can’t find.
They don’t know why their bodies are reacting, so they ignore it and turn back to the stage.
But I know. Even to other monsters, the clicking sounds predatory.
I force it down. It works, barely. No one heard it clearly over the noise of the crowd, but I know what almost happened in a room full of guards, clerks, and peacekeepers. That’s enough to tell me how thin my control has worn.
When they logged me at the gatehouse, I still believed in my own plan. Now a human girl in a ballroom dress has done what no female in seven cities ever did, and everything I told myself on the way here is worthless.
“That’s the Elmsley girl,” someone says behind me.
“Aldric Elmsley’s daughter? Here?”
“His only child. Her father decides who does business in this city.”
“Then no one bids. You’d win a bride and lose Concord.”
The auctioneer opens her at a thousand credits, which is high, and the hall goes quiet. No paddle rises. Esme Elmsley – I have her name now, whispered by strangers – stands up there and watches a crowd of monsters reject her.
“Whoever buys me takes my companion as well,” she calls out.
No one reacts.
“Eight hundred,” she says. No one moves. “Five hundred.” No one bids. “Four hundred.”
Buying her is a mistake. The males around me are right.
Her family owns this city, the whispers around me promise trouble. I own a dilapidated stone house at the edge of a desert her people call the Waste, while she’s a noble woman raised behind iron gates.
None of it changes what the call in my throat means. My body recognized her when she stepped onto the stage. If I let her walk away, I’ll never get another chance.
I raise my paddle.
“I’ll buy you.”
I address her and not the auctioneer, because she’s doing this. She’s the one selling herself.
The monsters near me step wide as I walk slowly toward the front. Up in the galleries, males pull back from the railings. The auctioneer reminds the hall that the bride holds final choice, and from his tone, he expects her to refuse me.
Everyone expects her to say no. Even me.
Esme looks at me. Her eyes go to my tail first, then to the stinger. The fear on her face is plain, even from this distance.
“Sold,” she says.
I’m stunned. I swallow heavily and nod. She nods back, and then we’re both moving toward the back of the stage as the room erupts. We meet at the desk where the contracts are handled. The whispers behind us don’t stop.
“She’s Elmsley’s daughter. High bred, noble. Why would she sell herself like this?”
“Bad news.”
“Something bad is going to happen. Watch for it.”
They may be right.
Esme’s servant joins us, standing just to her side. The clerk pulls a fresh contract from his stack.
“Names,” he says. “Buyer first.”
“Osric Aren of Haara.”
He writes it down.
“The bride?”
“Esme Elmsley.” Her voice stays level.
“The companion?”
“Darina,” the girl answers.
“Family name?”
“None,” the girl says. “Just Darina.”
The servant is a pretty girl, younger than her mistress and shorter, with blonde hair and blue eyes.
I note that much and stop looking, because Esme stands close enough to touch, and I can barely tear my eyes from her.
I never thought human women would interest me.
I would’ve said so to anyone who asked. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, human or otherwise.
She keeps her eyes on the clerk, on the contract, and on her own hands…
Never looks at me. It’s off-putting, but I don’t hold it against her.
Whatever drove a noble’s daughter to the bride market can’t be small.
All humans fear me. Some monsters fear me too.
She still said yes when she had every right to refuse.
When we’re alone, away from this city and her family, I hope we can talk. I hope it will be different then.
“Four hundred credits for the lot,” the clerk says.
I count the credits onto the desk, four hundred out of savings I put aside for a life I didn’t plan to share with anyone. He checks them twice, stamps a receipt, and turns the contract toward me. “Buyer signs first, then the bride.”
I reach for the pen.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Esme goes rigid beside me. I recognize the man walking up to the desk without ever having seen him before. Aldric Elmsley is polished and calm. His wife rushes to his side with her hands pressed together. Two peacekeepers follow them.
“Mr. Aren, is it?”
He must have heard me give my name to the clerk.
“I’m Aldric Elmsley. This is my daughter.”
“I know who she is.”
“Then you’ll understand this is a misunderstanding and nothing more. A family disagreement that went further than it should have. My daughter acted in anger, and contracts made in anger serve no one. I’ll reimburse you in full. Double what you paid, for your trouble and your travel.”
“I’m not interested,” I say plainly.
Esme gives me a surprised glance. Darina is practically cowering behind her.
I position myself so I’m between them and the man who’s trying to impose his will on the three of us.
Her father drops the courtesy.
“Let me be honest with you, then. I hold a seat on Concord’s council.
Its courts hear the cases I ask them to hear.
And every trade agreement between this city and the Waste crosses my desk before signing.
Agreements get reviewed, Mr. Aren. Caravans get delayed at gates.
Portal permissions get revoked. Ask yourself how much of that your people can afford. ”
“Otheera,” I say.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You call my home the Waste. Its name is Otheera. If you mean to threaten its trade, you can at least name it correctly.”
“Father, stop this.” Esme steps toward him. “Back off. I made my decision, and it’s…”
“Shut up.” He doesn’t even raise his voice. “You don’t know anything about what you’ve done. We’ll discuss it later.”
My tail wants to snap in his direction. I want to tell this man that no one orders my bride to shut up, not while I’m right here. I stay calm. I’ve spent my life controlling myself, as a city guard and as an exiled man, and a polished politician in a market hall won’t be the thing that breaks me.
“This market runs under its own law, the same law as every bride market across Alia Terra,” I say.
“Your daughter entered the auction of her own will. She stood on that stage and chose her buyer in front of hundreds of witnesses. The contract is valid, and you know it’s valid.
Otherwise, you would’ve led with the peacekeepers instead of your money. ”
Aldric’s expression doesn’t change. He glances at the men behind him, and the two peacekeepers start forward.
I bring my tail up. The stinger rises over my shoulder, pointed at the two of them, and both men stop where they stand.
I say nothing. They know what a single sting does to a human, and no one wants a Scorpius incident inside Concord.
The peacekeepers look to Aldric for the order. He doesn’t give it. They step back.
The clerk clears his throat.
“The signatures, please.”
I sign my name where he points. Esme takes the pen after me, still without looking my way, and signs beneath my name. The clerk stamps the page, files it, and it’s done.
Darina has two travel bags at her feet. I pick up both before either woman can reach for them, tip my head toward the doors, and start walking. They follow me. So do Esme’s parents.
“Esme.” Her mother is breathless. “Esme, please, look at me. Change your mind. You’re my baby, you’re my only daughter. What did I ever do to deserve this? Haven’t I given you everything?”
Esme keeps walking.
“You will stop,” Aldric says. “Both of you. We are going home, we will settle this quietly, and no one outside this district needs to hear of it.”
She doesn’t slow down.
I watch her from the corner of my eye. Her chin stays high, and she reaches for Darina whenever the crowd presses close. Her steps never falter.
We cross the market district, past stalls and guards, past monster delegations moving along the road, and the gatehouse rises ahead of us, built into the city wall itself. Inside the portal chamber, a guard mans the console.
“Destination?”
“Haara.”
I give him the coordinates. He enters them, then checks our names against the market registry.
“Three travelers. The two women are logged under your responsibility.”
“They are.”
“Esme.” Her mother pushes closer, crying openly now. “Please. It’s not too late. Come home.”
“Turn around,” Aldric says. “Now. This is the last time I ask.”
Esme stops in front of the portal frame and turns to face them.
“You wanted your daughter sold to a man,” she says. “You got what you wanted.”
Then she takes Darina’s hand and walks through ahead of me, without a single look back.
Her mother presses a hand over her mouth. Her father stands still, boiling on the inside.
I expected to lead a frightened girl through the portal. Instead, my bride ended the argument with dignity, and walked ahead of the monster who bought her, holding her friend’s hand. She is strong. She is stubborn. I can’t help the smile that stretches my lips.
I give her parents a respectful nod, then adjust my grip on the bags and follow the two women through.