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CIRILLO ALLOWED ME to accompany Galen at the Revelry instead of him—rather, I forced his hand.
I refused to use blood to heal the slices to my arm and calf, instead letting Galen grumble and fuss about them the old-fashioned way, and resigned to sitting out of the next day’s arena fight.
I was ashamed of my loss. The arena had never been so quiet.
Cirillo took pity. We both knew I knew that he didn’t want me, an abruptly fallen warrior, parading around in his posse after losing so sorely. It would make him look bad.
But somehow, I would have preferred that than being kidnapped in plain sight.
I saw the Moros vampire slink into the alley from the other end before I could act. His superspeed was no match for Koen, either, as he threw a burlap bag over Koen’s head, punched him in the nose so he went limp, and hauled him over a shoulder.
“Hey!” I shouted furiously as my coven member took off the way he came. “Let him go—”
“We didn’t forget you,” a male voice purred in my ear.
I gasped and whirled—
A bag was shoved over my head.
I thrashed and screamed like a rabid cat as I was scooped up under the knees and back like I weighed nothing. I didn’t get a look at my kidnapper, much less know his name, but I recognized his sneering laughter. He often kept Ciel company. “Hold still, or I’ll knock you out, too,” he hissed.
“I can walk on my own, thank you very much,” I snapped. My body went into a riot of pain. “Put me down! Put me—”
“No. We have somewhere to be.”
All I could see was scratchy burlap. We must have been on backstreets because there were no yellow streetlamps overhead. The vampire’s stride was preternaturally smooth; I wasn’t as jostled as I would have been if a human was carrying me. But he was walking fast, and my stomach did not appreciate it.
“I’m going to throw up!” My hands were unbound, so I groped for his face, but then—
Then he snarled and set me down hard on my feet, releasing me with a shove. I yelped, stumbling backward into another solid body whose hands caught me around my waist.
“Maer?”
Koen’s voice was groggy and soft as he steadied me. Instead of lashing out, I pressed closer to him. I had no idea what had just happened or where I was, and I needed any ally I could get. Whatever danger I had just been thrust into, my stubbornness allowed me to think rationally for once: I was pregnant and had open wounds. No matter how good of a fighter I was, I was painfully hindered in life survival skills.
I trusted Koen Blackwood.
Even if he annoyed me to my wit’s end.
Why had two Moros vampires just kidnapped us?
“Are you okay?” Koen whispered.
“Living my best life,” I whispered back, wrapping my arms around my torso. I felt so naked. I couldn’t see; I didn’t have a weapon. I was as good as useless. That fact made me utterly furious. “Where are we?”
“I think...” I had no idea how he’d come to so quickly, but he already sounded like his usual self. His voice was deep and confident, the kind of voice that soothed even the most mistrustful personalities. It almost felt like a shield around me. “I think... we’re at the auction.”
My blood froze. The memory of Cirillo’s growl from two days ago shivered up my spine. “Maybe I’ll sell you for your insolence.”
Footsteps on hollow wood vibrated beneath my feet. I couldn’t see anything beyond a blurry, shadowy blob. Koen tensed against me, lifting me by my upper arms—rubbing against my injury, ow!—an inch off the ground to spin me out of harm’s way.
A hand grabbed the bag and a fistful of my hair as they yanked the burlap off. “Our first piece of cattle for the night. Gladiator Maer Whisler of Moros!”
My vision adjusted to the firelight. The tightly packed crowd of vampires burst into a frenzy of desperation. Hands shot into the air and shouting erupted—prices. They were making claims through shockingly high money amounts—
For me.
Because I was on the auction stage.
I was being sold off like a prime piece of meat, nothing more than a vessel for blood and entertainment.
I was a fearless Gladiator who fended off fighters twice her size, who thrived on chaos and blood to survive, who grinned in the face of adversity. I lived among vampires and held my own. I would do anything to survive in this purgatory named Sanlow.
And yet... Here, I froze in mortification.
Here, I wasn’t my own person. I was reduced to a slave about to be traded.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
And then I was angry.
Who brought me here?!
The faces of the vampires were hungry with desire, a sea of black sclera eyes and gleaming fangs as they vied for a commodity such as a consistent money-maker like me. Sure, these vampires could bet on my fights and make handsome amounts, but for me to be in their coven—oh, the power they could hold.
The thought jarred me: They could use me as leverage against Cirillo.
“Our next potential sale!” the auctioneer announced. I winced at his loud voice next to me. “Gladiator and Farmer Koen Blackwood of Bloodfrost!”
Koen grunted at the violent force of the bag’s removal. His hands tightened on my hips. As the crowd went berserk at the sight of two of the arguably best fighters, I didn’t have the mindset to be indignant about the touch.
I looked frantically around for an escape route. I had no idea where we were. It was a small, circular courtyard surrounded by the backs of shops. The night sky was starless and moonless, but torches lent firelight whose flames writhed wildly from the jostling vampires. At least we weren’t underground.
Unable to see any sort of opening to escape—unless I could leap onto the nearest rooftop and jump from roof to roof, which was highly unlikely—I scanned frantically for—oh, sweet Death—Cirillo. It made me sick. It was the first and only time I wanted him around. He was the only one who could save me. I was so desperate that his was the face I wanted to see.
But he was nowhere in sight. His threat to sell me was hollow.
Koen’s fingers dug into my flesh. I dared not look at him. Agana was nowhere to be seen, which meant he wasn’t supposed to be here either.
The auctioneer was yelling off starting prices, at the same time trying to control the restless crowd.
Our hands and feet were unbound. We could easily make a run for it—and be caught in the span of two heartbeats. No amount of luck could help two humans escape even one vampire.
“Koen,” I whispered, unsure if he could hear my voice over the din.
His arms looped around my torso. “I’ve got you,” he whispered back.
I didn’t like to be cared for. It meant making a debt. I didn’t like to repay caretakers.
But at this moment, I didn’t have any qualms about putting my life in Koen’s hands.
There was a boom and clatter of loosened roof tiles. A voice carried across the courtyard:
The chaos stopped to whirl around to face the vampire standing on a roof.
“Those two are mine,” Aeros Adelio, the Gold God, said.
My blood ran cold.
Behind me, Koen swore.
Then Aeros named the highest possible bid—each.
The crowd went into an uproar as they realized they were impossibly outbid within the second.
“Sold!” the auctioneer shouted. “To coven leader Aeros Adelio of Rhidian!”
Aeros stalked along the rooftops toward the stage. Our eyes met; his glowed as gold as sunlight with hunger and greed.
Koen’s hands were suddenly ripped free just as irons clamped around my wrists. It happened so fast I couldn’t process it. Then Koen and I were dragged off stage, around the perimeter, through a slim alleyway, and into an empty pig pen of a small livestock shop. No one else was around. The sounds of the Revelry in the Square sounded far away. What part of town were we in? I had never seen anywhere so deserted.
We were chained to a post and left alone.
Oh, sweet Death. If Aeros Adelio signed the paperwork—drawn up without our knowledge and consent, which somehow I knew was illegal, but hey, this whole thing was—then I would belong to the Rhidian.
I promised no pride or honor to Moros, but suddenly, it was my safe haven.
Cirillo, where are you?!
No one was there to guard us in the near-darkness. Aeros didn’t appear.
We were alone.
I concentrated on calming my heart rate. I couldn’t be hysterical at a time like this. I refused to be. Especially in front of Koen Blackwood.
“Maer, are you all right?”
I could barely make out his facial features. He sounded genuinely worried—and not frightened at all. He’d better be terrified, I grumbled to myself. He can’t always be a charming hero type.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, looking out onto the empty street. There was an equally empty garden across from it. In all directions, all the houses and shops were facing away; it was hard to tell where we were when we could only see the backs of things. Were we still in neutral territory, just a block or two away from the Square? We had to be. Why would the auction occur on one coven’s land or the other?
Two months ago, I had started formulating escape plans. After all that time, none of them were viable. The main reason for that was that there was never a chance for aloneness. There would always be someone to catch me if I took off. Even during the day, when the zealot humans who worshipped vampires acted like a policing force and stopped even the smallest show of rebellion or escape.
If there was any time to enact a plan—any plan—now was it.
Was it reckless? Of course. Stupid? Yes. Desperate? Obviously.
Worth the effort? Probably not.
But I’d never get another shot like this, so I had to try at least.
Sometimes, vampires underestimated humans. We weren’t the mindless cattle they thought we were. That included thinking we were dumb enough not to know how to escape manacles that weren’t nearly tight enough.
I tried to slip my hand out of one. No luck yet.
“We just need something to grease—” I began.
“They’re breakable.”
I stared at Koen and then at the manacles. “They’re iron,” I told him pointedly. “You can’t be strong enough—”
“How nice of you to have faith in me, Maer.” He sighed dramatically.
I ground my teeth. “This isn’t funny!”
His tall, broad silhouette took a step closer to me. I suddenly recalled the reassuring grip of his hands on my waist. With him so near again, not even touching, I felt safe again. And safe was a word I never used. No one was safe in Sanlow.
I scoffed and retreated as far away as the chain allowed—a mere two feet. I thanked my lucky stars—which weren’t that lucky to begin with—that our cuffs weren’t connected. They were just bolted to the same wood post, which was securely pounded into the packed earth.
“We could dig this up,” I suggested.
Blessedly, Koen didn’t close the space between us again. “Do you plan on escaping?” he asked in confusion.
“You aren’t?”
“Well... no.”
I was completely baffled by his hesitation. “Are you crazy? This is the perfect chance to run. Why aren’t you taking it?”
“That’s just it,” he said, his voice losing its teasing edge. “I’m not crazy. This is about biding our time.”
I reined in my frustration but couldn’t keep it out of my tone. “For what? We’re about to be sold to Rhidian! Once that happens, we can never return to Moros or Bloodfrost! There’s likely little Cirillo or Agana can do except start a war against Aeros. There’s no way that I’m letting that happen.”
Koen cocked his head to the side, a curious gesture. I started to wish that I could see his face. “You want to stay in Moros with Cirillo? What... What history do you two have together?”
My heart lurched. Why did it sound like he had been waiting to ask that?
Flustered, I spat, “No! Nothing! But it’s still better than starting over in Rhidian. We might become Bleeders, and I’d rather die.”
Koen was silent. He turned away. Had I offended him somehow?
My anger evaporated, and I closed my eyes to gather my wits again.
Then he asked again, softer this time, “You’re escaping?”
My eyes opened; he was facing me again—at least, I thought so. “Escaping escaping,” I confirmed. “I’m getting out of Sanlow.”
His chains clinked as he tugged on them experimentally. The air between us suddenly had its own gravity, like something was waiting to happen.
And then Koen said, “I’m coming with you.”
