Page 2 of Bought By the Revenant (Monsters’ Bride Market #1)

Chapter Two

Riven

Midnight finds me pacing the long corridors of my mansion, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

I’ve walked this path for decades, and my mismatched feet have worn a groove in the marble floor.

One foot is bigger than the other, and both came from corpses long forgotten.

The mansion used to mean something to me when I first built it, but now these high ceilings and elegant furnishings feel like a prison.

I pass another draped mirror. I’ve covered or removed them all. The last time I glimpsed my reflection, I shattered the glass with my fist. The servants cleaned up the shards without comment. They know better than to mention it.

I reach up and grab my white hair, pulling hard until the stitches on my scalp hurt. The pain helps me focus and reminds me that this body made of different parts is just a container. The real me is the spirit trapped inside this ugly form that I never wanted.

“Master Riven?” Nell’s voice breaks the silence, and I see her standing at the far end of the corridor. She’s the oldest of my three servants. “Is there anything you need?”

“No.” The word comes out too sharp, but I don’t apologize. “Go back to bed.”

She bows her head and walks away, and I listen to her footsteps fade down the servants’ staircase.

These three humans – Nell, Fria, and Tomas – are the only ones who can stand being around me now, and that’s only because they’ve had years to get used to how I look.

Even they were scared when they first saw me.

I never hire revenants to work in my house.

I tell people it’s because I think all revenants are noble and equal, and that we shouldn’t serve each other.

I pay my human servants more than most nobles pay their entire staff, so no one questions me.

But the real reason is different, and I don’t like to think about it too much: I can’t stand the idea of perfect revenants serving me and watching me with their glowing eyes, while they pity the monster who made their perfection possible. It’s far easier to have humans around.

I walk to my laboratory and push open the heavy door.

This is where I figured out how to put revenant souls into stitched bodies properly.

Journals fill the shelves, and each one shows how I improved the process, so newer revenants look almost human, their stitches barely there.

Only their glowing eyes show what they really are.

By perfecting the process of soul-to-matter transference, I gave them what I can never have myself.

I’m careless as I cross the space to my workbench, and I briefly catch my reflection in the glass panel of my medicine cabinet.

A memory flashes before my eyes, and I see a young woman’s face change from curious to horrified when she gets a clear look at me.

She turns and runs while screaming, and I try to push the memory away, but the hurt stays.

In a burst of frustration, I sweep my arm across the workbench, knocking glass vials onto the floor, where they shatter.

The breaking sound feels good for a second, but it’s temporary.

I drop into my chair, and the wood groans under me.

The white glow from my eyes bounces off the shiny desk surface.

I’m tired of living in this body, and tired of being alone. I could end everything by pulling my spirit out of this flesh and going back to the empty void where I came from. I’ve been thinking about this more and more over the past few decades.

But there’s one more thing I could try first. I’ve seen notices about bride markets in human towns.

Places where women choose to be purchased by beings like me – monsters, creatures, non-humans of all kinds.

They do it for protection, for financial security, sometimes just to escape worse fates.

And unlike other arrangements, these markets give the women choice.

They see their potential husbands first. What if someone could look at me without running away?

What if someone could see more than just this ugly outside?

I stare at the wall clock. Nearly dawn. I make up my mind: I will go to the market in the nearest human town. It’s several miles away, as Luminea remains largely isolated from humans. This is my last try before I either surrender to eternal solitude or choose not to exist at all.

When the first light comes through the windows, I ring for my servants. All three show up quickly. Nell with her gray hair and serious face, Tomas who’s tall and thin and always hunched over, and young Fria who still jumps when I move too fast.

“Get my carriage ready,” I tell them. “The best one.”

They look at each other because I almost never leave my estate.

“And bring my formal clothes. The cloak with the hood.”

“May I ask where you’re going, Master?” Tomas asks.

“To buy a bride.” The words sound strange when I say them out loud.

They look surprised but don’t ask anything else. An hour later, my carriage waits in the courtyard. It’s a big black vehicle with silver decorations, built so people can’t see inside. The windows have fine mesh that lets me look out while keeping others from looking in.

I put on my clothes carefully. Black trousers, a deep red waistcoat over a white shirt, and a long coat with silver buttons. Money is the only thing I have going for me, so I should at least show it. The hood will hide my face until I will be forced to reveal myself.

The ride from Aura Glade through Luminea is nice enough.

The revenant lands are beautiful – grand houses set among rolling hills, forests carefully tended, roads smooth and well-maintained.

I helped build this place after the Shift, when humans needed help and monsters stepped up to save them.

Funny how humans don’t remember that part of the story anymore.

As we cross into human territory, the landscape changes.

The roads become rutted, the buildings more crowded and less well-kept.

Signs of poverty are everywhere – children in worn clothing, fields that struggle to produce crops, houses with patched roofs.

I’ve watched these problems and patterns for centuries, and it doesn’t matter who’s in charge, because nothing ever changes.

“Crosshold, sir,” my driver, Olaf, calls back to me. “We’ve arrived.”

I take a deep breath before I speak.

“Find a place near the market square.”

The carriage stops, and I get ready for what’s coming.

My hood shadows my face, but I know it won’t be enough, because people always see what I am.

The market square is busy with stalls selling vegetables and handmade things.

Children run through the crowds, and musicians play in one corner.

All this normal life feels strange to me.

I go to a bookseller first, since his stall has fewer people and books are always worth buying.

“Do you have any texts on medicinal herbs?” I ask and keep my face turned away.

“Yes, sir. Several.” He points to a shelf behind him.

I pick one and reach to pay, but my sleeve pulls back and shows the stitches at my wrist. The ugly black threads hold different shades of skin together, and the bookseller’s eyes widen.

“Here,” I say and put coins on the counter. I give him more than the book costs.

He won’t touch the money. “Just take it,” he whispers and steps backward.

Shame burns through me, then anger. I leave the money and take the book before my temper causes problems. The same thing happens at three more stalls.

One woman drops my coins instead of touching my hand, and a child points at me and asks loudly what’s wrong with my face, until his mother hurriedly pulls him away.

I’m ready to go back to my carriage when I overhear two women talking.

“The bride market’s starting soon. You should see the monsters that show up for that.”

“Better than starving, I suppose,” her friend answers.

I follow the flow of people toward an open area where a wooden stage has been erected.

An auctioneer wearing a gaudy vest organizes papers on a podium, while about a dozen women of different ages stand to one side looking nervous.

Humans and non-humans fill the audience, and I see two trolls, a lycan, several fae creatures, and others I can’t identify right away.

I stay at the back, where the shadows are deepest, and watch how this works. The auctioneer calls the first woman forward. She’s young, maybe twenty, with red hair and bright eyes. He tells everyone she’s healthy and hardworking, and knows how to weave, then the bidding starts.

I figure out the pattern fast. Monsters bid, and whoever offers the most money gets to approach the woman, then she decides if she’ll accept or not.

Most women pick whoever looks the most human, even when they’re offering less money.

A troll offers a huge amount for a plump middle-aged woman, but she picks a fae lord who looks almost human except for his shimmering skin.

After watching several women get sold, I decide to bid on the next one.

I will offer more than anyone else. Perhaps, if the sum is high enough…

When I call out my bid, everyone turns to look.

The crowd parts slightly as people try to see who’s talking from the shadows.

The woman on stage squints in my direction, while the auctioneer only cares about the substantial sum I just offered and declares me the winner.

I step forward, and what always happens…

happens again. People gasp and whisper. The woman’s face drains of color when she sees me.

I reach the edge of the stage, and she shakes her head almost violently.

“I decline,” she says with a shaking voice. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

The auctioneer shrugs at me because this is just business to him. “Next bidder,” he calls out.

I try again with the next woman, then the one after that. Every time my money gets me the right to approach, and every time my appearance makes them say no. Some are nicer about rejecting me than others, but they all say no.

The sun gets higher in the sky, and my hope gets smaller with each woman who turns me down. This was stupid to try, and I should go home and stop humiliating myself. But something keeps me standing here anyway, wanting one last chance, clinging to hope.

“Final bride of the day,” the auctioneer announces.

I decide this will be my last try. If she says no like all the others, I’ll leave and never do this again.