Page 89 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

88

FINNLEAH

T he room was dim, only large, pillar-like candles lit up our pedestal with sturdy, metal poles reaching from the ceiling down to the ground. The six of us danced and twirled, focusing on the slow, sultry music as our exposed bodies moved.

I forced my eyes to look at anything else other than the lines of men below, our bidders. I couldn’t see their faces in the dark anyway, and perhaps it was for the best.

Ignorance was bliss, after all.

It’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be okay, I repeated to myself again and again, my knees trembled, but I carried on with the dance.

And even if it wasn’t, I would make it. I would survive.

I could’ve sent a card to Gideon. I could’ve summoned Liriya. But he was more than half a day of flight away from here anyway. Even if he left an hour ago, he would still be late. And I didn’t want that hanging over his conscience.

Lady Fate and her cursed timing.

My stomach twisted and I let out another jagged breath as I copied the rest of the girls, lowering my body until my almost bare chest was at eye level with the observers. Although I could not see their faces, I still felt grimy; their hungry, lustful eyes on me, making my skin crawl.

Gods, maybe I should’ve gotten drunk. At first, being sober seemed like a smart choice. To stay in full control. To be in charge of the situation. But now, as the music quieted and all of us lined up for the bidding to begin, it seemed to be the wrong one.

Too late now.

I looked at my trembling hands, forcing them to still. The oils and lotions the girls had put on me made them shimmer in the candlelight. So enchanting, like the glow in the trance amidst my vision threads.

I held back an internal scoff.

Visions…If only I could’ve seen this future with my other vision. That would have been nice. But no, instead I only saw what Fate wanted me to see. Rather a shitty gift, in my opinion.

I might not have control over my visions.

But this? This was my choice. To use my body to survive and help them survive.

A simple tool, nothing more, nothing less.

A positive outlook. Find one, I commanded myself as the rivers within me lost their shores, overflowing with dread.

I’ve been sold into slavery. I’ve been bought as a gift. And now, I am being bid on.

Perhaps I should think of myself as a pricey possession, an artifact of some sorts, considering the amount of money that had been exchanged for my boyish, freckled body.

Yes, an expensive, one-of-a-kind possession, indeed. An heirloom. A unique piece of art, I told myself. This positive outlook was beginning to sound more like absolute delusion, but I forced myself to continue.

Prized possessions make it through famines and wars, they survive, and they live on for generations. And so will I.

“Nizana!” My nickname sounded. I meekly and obediently curtsied before taking a step forward. “You seemed to make quite the impression today,” a tall man sneered, and I bowed even lower.

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” I replied, lowering my eyes to the ground, falling back into the tight mask of an obedient slave.

“Take her to the room. Your very generous bidder will wait for you there.”

My skin paled and blood rushed in my ears as I fought the screams of terror within me. I fought the urge to run, to push these two guards down the stairs, my steps becoming leaden, as we walked up the stairs, down the long hall. Soon, the guard opened the door to my room for the night, squeaking hinges echoing down the empty hall.

The room was quite simple. Two-post bed, a chair, a bronze candle holder, with all three tall candles lit up. Their little golden fire sent shadows dancing on the wall.

Perhaps it was despair, but I clung to that little warmth of fire in here, surprisingly comforted by the tiny flames. There, in the corner, hidden by the shadows, stood a large man, well over double my size. I bit the side of my cheek making it bleed, attempting to keep utter defeat at bay. My throwing knives were suddenly feeling like tiny toothpicks against his large stature. But I willed my clammy hands to still, my stomach to ease as it twisted in nauseating pain.

“ Nizana ,” the guard said, and from his tone, I knew that he realized I was not her. Well fuck, I guess I lasted longer than I thought I would. He warned before letting me enter the room, “This gentleman paid a very pretty penny for you, so treat him well.” With that, he locked the door behind me, the sound of the key clicking in the lock rattled me to my bones.

No escape now.

My mouth watered as bile burned my throat, but I swallowed hard, finding the last embers of courage before I moved one foot ahead.

“Hello, sir.” I bowed before the stranger. The tall figure turned around, taking a step closer to me. He pulled his hood down, stepping out of the shadows. “GIDE—” But before I could gasp, his hand closed on my mouth.

“‘ HELLO SIR? ’ WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, Finnleah?!” he angrily...no, furiously , hissed into my ear, releasing me. I blinked once, then twice, checking my palm for a burn mark, just in case, unsure if I was dreaming.

But I wasn’t. This was, in fact, Gideon.

It was him and he was here.

“How did you get here…How are you here ?” I asked, his presence making my legs buckle as I took a few steps back, sitting down in the lone chair. “You are here.”

“Of course, I’m fucking here,” he seethed, running his hand through his hair.

Whatever bravado I had managed to summon before, loudly crumbled down, as I stared at him, my eyes filling with tears, as relief flooded me.

“You’ve come for me…” I said, more to myself as the little streaks slid down my cheeks.

“Fuck, Finnleah, don’t cry, you’re okay. You are going to be okay…. But please don’t cry. I won’t let them hurt you.” He dropped to his knees by my chair. His face softened, as he wiped away my tears. I nodded, stifling the quiet sniffles. “But what were you thinking? Why?” he asked, as his calloused hand ran against mine. “Why are they all still alive and not incinerated into ashes? And why…” He held his breath before saying, “Why in the absolute hell were you going to prostitute yourself to a stranger just a minute ago?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, consoled by the touch of his warm hand against my cheek.

“We can’t burn them. Elves supply their food and have their wards everywhere. We use our magic, they all starve,” I explained, suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t used his fire either. “You haven’t burned them either…Why?” My eyes widened.

“That’s a fucking good question.” He stood up, adjusting his cloak. “I wanted to from the moment I walked into this hell hole. And believe me, during your little show…I almost incinerated half the damn mountain,” he replied as he looked around the room, assessing.

“But you didn’t…” I stated.

“No, I didn’t. Because you were here and they were all still alive, and I needed to ask you first before I turned them all to dust.” His words caught me off guard.

“You trusted me.”

“Believe me, I am starting to question that choice,” he mumbled with a touch of sarcasm.

“Wait, were you here for the dance?” I asked, still astonished.

“Oh, the dance, the bidding, the show. Fucking all of it,” he replied, running his hand over his face, as if that somehow would wipe away his frazzled look. And though I knew it was neither the time nor the place, I bit my lip and asked anyway.

“Did you like my performance?” I smiled at him as joy warmed my soul at his nearness.

He glared, shaking his pointer finger at me. “We are not going to talk about that right now.” His voice was uneven, and he took a step away from me. But my mouth stretched in a wide, satisfied smile, as my eyes lowered to below his waist, to the very prominent bulge, because the answer to my question was quite more obvious than his silent looks.

“Also, just so you know, we either need to kill them all or can’t touch them at all. They are rival tribes. If one is dead, then there is another war….” I brought him up to speed, as he stared at me still searching for the right words. “While we are at it, you should also know that there is a room upstairs with a large picture of Lady Dynaya and behind that, there is a safe, which will have a book, one that might contain spells for the magic used to create the stone. Theoretically, of course. At least, that’s what I saw in my visions. All this to say, we can’t leave without it.” I sheepishly smiled at him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at anything but me.

“Please tell me you have some weapons.”

“I have two of these.” With that, I pulled the two tiny throwing knives out from underneath the thick bra strap.

“For gods’ sake…” he uttered. “That’s all? What were you thinking? What was your plan?!” he whispered angrily. I clenched my jaw; I didn’t need another reminder of my foolish choices.

“My plan was to charm them with my amazing dance moves…” I hissed back. “Do you think I don’t realize that I put myself in a difficult situation all by myself? Of course all my plans fucking changed once I knew all the important details!” I threw my hands up as my voice raised.

A loud knock startled us as the guard’s voice sounded from behind the door.

“If she is giving you trouble sir, we do offer chains or ropes.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “No chains or ropes necessary.”

We stayed quiet until the guard’s steps echoed further away.

“Well, the one dagger I had was taken by the doors too,” Gideon let out a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t planning to go on a murdering spree when I flew to see you today.”

“I could always go back and see if I can seduce someone of use with my amazing dance routine.” I theatrically shook my shoulders, letting my breasts bounce. “Seemed to work out great for me the first time around.” I winked at him, unable to hide my mischievous grin.

“Let me be very clear, Finnleah, if you are ever going to dance like that again, it’s only going to be for my pleasure and viewing,” he blurted out heated words, looking away from me.

I perked my eyebrow up as the corners of my lips tugged upwards, waiting for him to register his own words. My eyes lighting up with satisfaction as his face became even more disheveled.

“I... I didn’t mean it like that...I meant more so...I…Fuck, Finnleah, I can’t think or even breathe with you around, standing dressed like that, looking at me like that.”

But I already knew that. From the simple facts that he had to take a few steps away from me, that his hands were busy running through his hair, rubbing his face every five seconds, doing anything to keep them busy, or that he could only look at me for less than a second before he’d pull his flustered gaze away. “We could always try going through the back door…” he started, but then turned sternly to me before I could comment. “ Do. Not . Dare,” he warned.

I stifled a chuckle.

“Well, I am glad you are enjoying this,” Gideon scowled, letting out a short breath. And I could swear I saw a tint of a blush on his cheeks…the Lord of Death, blushing . “I guess we will need to use those chains after all.”

“Actually, I have an idea,” I countered. “Before you get too critical about it, it doesn’t involve me dancing…” I wickedly smiled.