Page 23 of Given to the Fae (The Dark Realms #3)

Locke goes through first, followed by Morgan and then Warrior. The girl in front of me cringes as we enter the Breach. She covers her ears and turns into me, burrowing into my chest.

The Bridge itself isn’t a long one, and we walk out only a moment later into a city square lined with black stone buildings topped with spires.

The stones of the road are the same hue, and even the sky is gloomy.

The sun itself seems to struggle to shine its light, and there’s a wintery nip in the air despite the season.

I glance around. There are some goblins and pixies, but mostly I can see mages dressed in black robes.

‘What is this place?’ I ask Locke as I glance down to see how the female has fared during the short journey.

He doesn’t look at me. ‘Dead City. The finest of the five mage academies is here.’

‘Dead City?’ Bryn asks in a small voice.

I inspect her face, and she seems all right. Though she’s trembling against me, she doesn’t look ill, or as if she’s going to swoon.

Locke glances down at her. ‘The name is...’ He rolls his eyes. ‘The mages are a theatrical bunch, that’s all. There’s nothing dead about this place, and the black facade is merely a conjure.’

‘You’ve been here before?’

‘Once,’ is all Locke replies as he leads the way.

The black streets are quiet, though we pass a couple of markets which are teeming with mages, witches, and some orcs. Most are dressed in the blacks, the only blocks of color being copper, silver or gold pins on their collars to denote their level of experience.

Stopping at a nearby inn, we go inside and order some drinks before finding a table.

I frown when I see the female kneel on the floor between Morgan and I with her eyes lowered, and my jaw clenches when the water I asked the goblin at the bar for comes in a rusty bowl that’s put on the floor in front of her as if she’s a beast.

I catch Morgan’s eye, and he looks down at her drinking thirstily from the filthy bowl without pause. I watch his jaw tighten in righteous anger on her behalf, but he says nothing.

When our meal is brought, there are only four plates. I make to stand, to ask for another, when Morgan’s great hand lands on my shoulder.

Warrior sniggers. ‘You think the slave could have her own plate?’

I cover for my ignorance quickly. ‘Of course not,’ I sneer. ‘But we’ve been tasked with ensuring she’s healthy by the time she’s sold. How are we meant to do that if we can’t get her a fucking meal?’

Morgan tuts. ‘Like this.’

He holds a piece of meat out to the human, and she leans forward and takes it from his fingertips, her small tongue darting out to lick her lip. It’s not done seductively, and yet...

My mouth almost falls open in astonishment...revulsion...and something else, which causes my cock to tighten in my breeches, which in turn causes horror and shame.

‘Gods, are you going to feed her your entire meal?’ I ask, sitting back in my chair as if I’m not as shocked as a farm boy seeing the city for the first time.

‘My plate has more on it,’ he says, feeding her another morsel, which she takes without complaint.

The meal continues thus, and I eat and drink, pretending that degrading the female by making her eat and drink with us this way is normal and right...and not at all sickening.

When Warrior goes to the bar to get himself a dram, I take my chance, turning to Morgan and giving him a speaking look. I see Locke beyond him, clearly wondering the same as I am.

He sighs, and hands her a piece of bread.

‘The second night after she saw the healer, I tried to get her a bowl of stew in the tap room, and, instead, they gave me one large portion. I didn’t understand.

She informed me it was so that she could be fed from my hand.

Things are different here since I left, though,’ he shrugs, ‘I never had much call to mix with the slaves, so perhaps it was always thus.’

‘Aye,’ Locke murmurs. ‘I never had a call to learn such rules either.’

Warrior returns and our conversation goes no further, but I’m annoyed that Morgan didn’t tell us what happened at the tavern before.

This never came up in the research we did before we came here, and I wonder what other holes there might be in our education of slavery in the Dark Realms. Our ignorance of them might lead to questions that we don’t want being asked.

We leave soon after, thankfully. When Warrior asks why we aren’t taking a room in the same inn, Locke winks and says he knows of a much better place.

We then follow him around the black-paved streets for just long enough that I begin to resent the cunt for not choosing an inn closer to the Gate, but we finally go under an archway and find ourselves in a small, lush courtyard.

‘You are welcome, friends,’ a young pixie female murmurs, entering the square via some intricately carved doors at the far end.

Locke dismounts and bows slightly. We follow suit. Even Warrior looks uncertain and does the same.

My friend goes off to speak with his fellow magick-user about our stay, and I glance around, impressed by the array of blooming plants and the fountain that cascades over the side of the building seemingly from nowhere.

I keep Bryn close to me as I notice an array of black-clad orcs standing by the walls, silent and foreboding.

They have no colors on their tunics, so they aren’t students of the academy. Servants of the inn, perhaps.

When four of them approach to take our horses, I see that I’m correct. A fifth comes to stand in front of me and bows low. ‘Shall I take your slave?’

‘Where?’

I have no intention of letting Bryn out of our sights, but I’m curious.

‘She’ll be taken to the slave paddock beside the stables. It’s freshly strawed, and heated. We also have several virile bulls she can be mated with should you wish to breed her while you’re with us.’

I feel Bryn stiffen beside me. She stares at the ground and gives nothing away, but her face is drawn and pale.

‘She is precious to us,’ Morgan answers the orc before I can. ‘She stays with one of us at all times.’

‘Of course, my lord. Slaves are welcome in the interior chambers, so long as they are clean and don’t cause any damage. She will be required to ingest a potion to rid her body of any vermin she carries, however.’

He produces a small vial, which Bryn takes from his hand and pours down her throat before we can stop her.

I hide my incredulity at her rash action, sharing a look with Morgan but saying nothing out here in the open with so many ears straining to listen. Her incredible foolishness will have to be explained to her later, where no one will hear and understand how na?ve she is.

Morgan and I follow Locke and Warrior into the establishment, keeping Bryn between us.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ I murmur just as he whispers the same.

My large friend looks surprised...perhaps that I’d bother to warn her, and I snort.

We’re brought to a door by the proprietress, and she opens it with a flourishing conjure.

‘There are rooms for each of you, as well as all the amenities. If you need anything, anything at all, please ring the bell and you’ll be attended to.’

Locke nods and the female gives us a flirtatious smile before she turns and walks off down the long corridor.

We go inside. Where the outer walls are dark and close, these rooms are the exact opposite.

The walls are crème and white with gold and silver filigree gilding all around.

They’re bright and airy, and, as I peer through the window, we appear to be on the top-most floor, which should be impossible as we didn’t climb stairs to get here.

I assume it’s a conjure, but when I get closer, I find doors that lead into a large balcony.

‘It’s not an illusion,’ I can’t help but exclaim as I open one of the doors and step outside into the cool air. ‘I can feel the wind, hear the street below.’

Locke doesn’t appear surprised and I want to ask him how he knows Dead City, but he’s kept the fact that he’s a mage a secret from Bere and his men, so I can’t just yet.

‘How do you know this place?’ Warrior asks, clearly a bit suspicious, but Locke only smirks.

‘I knew a witch...very well. She brought me to Dead City once to show me its wonders.’ He winks. ‘For instance, there’s a very special brothel two streets down. Caters to every taste. Can’t miss it. Golden roof.’

Warrior snorts, but I see him glance over at the cityscape for a moment to see if he can spot it, and I have no doubt he’ll be leaving us to explore this evening, just as we want him to.

We each choose a room of which there are four, not five, and it again strikes me that Bryn is seen more as a pampered pet than a sentient being, that when Morgan told the orc in the courtyard that we were keeping the slave with us, he was only humored because this is a fine establishment.

I wonder if they’d have refused to allow her into one of the other, cheaper inns, and instead made her sleep unguarded in a pen by the horses.

‘Unpack.’ Warrior slings his pack at Bryn, and she only just catches it before it hits her full in the face and the force makes her take several steps back.

‘Yes, my lord,’ she murmurs meekly and staggers into the room he’s chosen under the heavy bag.

I turn away, my fists clenching. What is wrong with me?

We’ve been out here for months, and the treatment of the slaves has never upset me this much.

I was able to forget them, I realize. The slaves were bought and sold within a matter of one or two days.

But Bryn’s been with us for longer than that.

Almost a week now that I think on it. And we still have another two to go.

I run my hands through my hair, pulling it a little in frustration. When I turn around, I find Locke out on the balcony and Morgan and Warrior nowhere to be seen.

I don’t care where Morgan’s gone, but my eyes narrow at Warrior’s door that’s now closed, and I approach it very quietly, putting my ear to the door.