The shackles at my wrists were cold. Too cold. Not only were they made of iron, but they were also wrought with runes, glowing blue in the dark, that quenched whatever trace of magic was in me. Every pace they made hurt me on my skin, a vindictive reminder of my captivity.
The big hall was filled with the smell of incense and iron. The shadows hung on the walls and stretched along the golden braziers burning on the stone pillars. The masked nobles sat above, tilted down like jeweled faces upon us as we were livestock awaiting pricing.
I was kneeling among dozens of other people, including prisoners, thieves, and fallen nobility. We are all deprived of freedom. Tonight we were getting sold.
"Seventeen lots!" "Seventeen lots!" said the auctioneer, his voice oozing greed. His crimson robe moved as he was strutting across the stage. "A princess of the defunct kingdom of Elvara. Unlearned in magic but of noble birth. Untouched. Virgin."
People exploded in laughs and bids.
Two thousand gold!
"Three!"
Four and a half!
Both figures were nails in my coffin. I clenched my nails in my palms, not wanting to cry. My father had lost his crown but not my pride.
then the air changed
The laughter died away. The flames bent, as if drawn to him.
He came in without warning.
The Shadow King
Tall, clad in black, with glowing eyes of a faint crimson under his hood. It was said he was the lord of Noctis, by blood and mysteries, and that he was not yet fully human. And now looking at him, I believed every word.
The nobles bent their masked heads. The paralysis of fear spread like a wave through the room.
He looked over the chained bodies, fixing his eye on me. I ran out of breath. In that one heartbeat I felt laid bare, as though he had seen the frightened girl behind my defiance.
"She is mine," he said. I heard his voice like velvet with steel in it.
The auctioneer stammered, "Y-your Majesty, of course—"
The gavel banged down. "Sold!"
And there and then my end was sealed.
The guards pulled me along while the chains clashed, and the hall murmured behind the masks. I was pushed to the steps in front of him, and my legs were shaking in spite of every atom of pride I could hold on to.
He reached out with a gloved hand. Not cruel, not soft. Simply expectant.
My pride howled to rebel. My survival cried to the contrary; I slowly put my chained hand in his.
His hand was hot, iron. Deep within me something dark was moving, something I did not wish to name.
"Come," he said.
People cleared the way as he escorted me out. Nobles bent their heads, and guards rushed to unlock the doors. No one was bold enough to look at him in the eye
On the streets, the moon colored the cobblestones with silver. A black carriage stood ready, the outline of its frame outlined in curling shadows. Horses of a deep jet-black trotted with stamping hooves, their breaths rising in the cold air.
He led me inwardly. Velvet chairs, gilded lamps, a silence that can be smothering. The door closed and the city passed away as the carriage started.
I looked down, my heart beating loud enough to be heard, as I watched him. At last he said something.
"Do you know why I claimed you?"
I made myself take a look at him. "Because you wanted another slave."
A chuckle of low pitch. "Slaves are cheap. I wanted you because you are not."
"Your blood has something old in it," he went on, leaning forward, shadows following. "A strength that lies dormant and is only waiting to be enlivened. And it is I who shall wake it up."
I went dry in the throat. "And what will you do in turn if I say no?"
"Then you will die. Not of my hand. but out of your own blood. Power such as yours does not keep its mouth shut; it consumes."
He looked me over with crimson eyes that I could not read. "No, no, you must not misunderstand me, Princess. You are not here to satisfy the lust of my body. You are here because I want your power. Your nights are mine, not to spend in pleasure only, but in survival."
The carriage tossed. I turned to the window and gasped.
His castle rose in the darkness of the night sky. The black stone towers hewn into the cliffs are faintly aglow with the blood moon. It resembled not so much a castle as a monster, ready to devour me.
My doom was fixed. And tonight was but the start of it.