Page 6 of Given to the Fae (The Dark Realms #3)

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M y heart is thumping wildly. My hands are curled around the bars so tightly and have been for so long that they feel locked into place.

The screams and the voices seem to echo through my mind long after the Gate behind closes and I’m filled with terror and dread a thousand times worse than I ever felt when I was at The Barrack.

The noises finally recede and I find the courage to open my eyes a few moments later.

There are trees everywhere, more than I’ve seen since I was very small.

But I remember a forest from my earliest memories, I think.

Something about it is familiar. The damp smell of the earth in the air, perhaps.

Or the gnarled, ancient trunks. Sun shines through the canopy to make little bright circles on the floor of the wood and I look up in wonder.

It’s brighter here than The Barrack ever was even under all these leaves.

I glance at the other two women in the cart with me.

They’re sitting close beside each other on the other side of the space, ignoring me for the most part.

They don’t seem surprised by how different this world is, but neither of them were at The Barrack for as long as I was, so they probably remember this route well.

The taller of the duo is Bell. She’s older than I am, but still young enough to have value as a female.

She’s pretty with an oval face, hazel eyes, and curly brown hair, though she had her head shaved a few weeks ago to get rid of the lice, and it’s only just growing back.

The other’s blonde locks are in a neat plait to keep it away from her face, which is a feat in itself because the only tools we have to tame our manes are our fingers.

She must spend ages on it. Her blue eyes are expressive and guileless.

Since every slave I’ve ever met has been naturally guarded and suspicious, I know it’s an act learned, likely because it gets her better treatment from the masters.

She only arrived two or three days ago, so I don’t know her name.

She sees me watching and makes a face at me, edging closer to Bell, and I almost snort.

She can believe they’re friends if she likes, but Bell won’t be a loyal one.

The new girl will find that out soon enough.

Bell is a thief and a scrapper. I’ve seen her steal food straight from other girls’ fingers and give them a good, hard slap if they dare open their mouths to complain.

The cart moves quite quickly away from the Ring, and I begin to relax though I probably shouldn’t. I don’t know where we’re traveling to, but I doubt this is our destination. There will be more trips through the portals before we get to where we’re going.

Why doesn’t anyone else seem afraid?

I eye Bell and grit my teeth. Better to speak to her now while none of the masters are paying us any attention.

‘Bell,’ I whisper.

I watch her stiffen when she hears me, pretending she hasn’t at first. Her hesitation is telling. I know she’s considering if she’ll be punished in some way for merely speaking to me before she decides ignoring me will be worse for her. She sighs and finally looks at me.

‘What?’ she hisses.

‘In the Breach. Did you hear noises?’

Her forehead wrinkles. ‘Noises?’

‘Aye. Whispers. Screams.’

‘I heard naught, Kismet.’

The other woman glances at her new friend and then at me. ‘This is the one I heard about in The Barrack? The Fate Touched?’

Bell doesn’t look at her. ‘Aye. Stay away from her if you know what’s good for you. What’s your name, girl?’

‘I’m Ila.’

Ila’s eyes narrow at me as she whispers something to Bell who nods.

I pretend to look away, but I know I shouldn’t take my eyes off them now.

Bell is hatching a plan for the girl next to her.

I see her eyes dart to the leader of the fae flesh traders more than once.

She’s hoping for favor, which means getting rid of the competition.

I almost wonder how she’ll do it. She’s a clever one.

Ila is clearly not. I can tell by the way she’s looking at Bell that she thinks they have an alliance of some kind.

But Bell doesn’t do alliances.

Ila will learn that quickly, but it’ll likely be a harsh lesson.

The slavers take us along a wide trail until the sun is much lower in the sky. I take the chance to doze a little during the journey. I don’t sleep. I rarely do unless I’m alone and no one knows where I am. But I need to rest now, because I doubt I’ll be able to later with Bell and Ila plotting.

I can’t help my whirling thoughts regarding what happened at The Barrack.

That fae, the leader’s second, put his fingers.

.. What he did hurt me . But he wasn’t hurt in return.

What if... No, that’s never happened before.

He must have been punished by fate. They always are. I just didn’t see it, that’s all.

We get to a shallow river that’s narrow enough to be considered a stream in some areas and the leader calls a halt after we cross it at a wide but shallow ford.

There’s a flurry of activity as the skin merchants get to work making camp. The two bulls they bought, Smy and Gilfor, are told to build up the tents and then wash in the stream.

I catch them both watching Bell and Ila with lust in their eyes, but they’re ignored in favor of the leader.

Human females are used to being ogled, but I’ve noticed that most rarely even look at a bull unless they’re given to one to be rutted, or they find themselves alone with one that’s loose.

Me, they don’t even glance at, which suits me well.

I remember what happened the first and last time I was given to one of their kind for the purpose of breeding me.

The bull tripped and hit his head on the corner of the stone animal trough.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground, and he never woke up.

A healthy bull dead for what he was ordered to do was enough to solidify Sio and Ogdan’s suspicions that I was Fate Touched. They never tried again.

When the camp is set, the door to the cart is opened.

Bell clambers out first, followed by Ila.

I’m last and I look around the clearing slowly as I stretch my stiff limbs.

I hear an order to strip and I do it without thought, taking off my woolen shift.

I ignore the eyes that follow us, the way that Bell struts a little when she notices the leader’s gaze.

We’re lashed together loosely by our ankles so that we have to stay together and can’t run off, and then we’re told to wash in the stream as the bulls did.

The water is cold but clear and I submerge myself as the other women do, all of us gasping at the freezing water that makes our lungs tighten. I stay upstream from Bell and Ila so I’m not bathing in their filth, and I wonder how long it’s been since I was washed by clean water all at once.

I’m surprised when one of the slavers throws us a piece of soap that Bell fumbles to catch and we all share a look borne of experience. We’re not friends, but all of us know that no good comes from masters wanting us properly clean.

We share it, each of us washing our hair and bodies well in the frigid water until we’re told to get out.

On the shore, the second in command who helped choose us and another, a huge fae who must be part something else, inspect us properly now that we’re clean.

Thankfully, it’s an impersonal appraisal and neither of them actually touches us.

But it’s only a matter of time. I errantly wonder what would happen if enough of these fae hurt me or at least tried to. Would all of them be punished at once? Would we be able to get away?

I look at our darkening surroundings.

And go where?

I’ve heard more than one slave in the dead of night over the years speak of far-away lands, of places where humans are free, but if they do exist, I don’t know how to get to them.

I’d be caught and chained before I could get far, I’m sure.

Then I’d be lashed a few times before fate balanced its books and they learned to leave me be.

Three human slave garments of various colors are thrown at us, long dresses that give the illusion of modesty.

I’ve never worn one, but I’ve seen others come to The Barrack dressed thus.

The bright cloth is easily ripped, doesn’t keep out the cold, and is translucent when it gets wet.

It tends to snag on even the most innocuous of branches or splinters.

These clothes mark us as slaves from five-hundred paces. They make us stick out.

Bell wears her purple one with something that looks like pride.

She laces the bosom tightly so that it’s nowhere near so demure as it’s meant to be at first glance.

She draws herself up and throws back her shoulders, murmuring something about how these masters know how to treat human females properly.

Ila, now looking to the slightly older Bell for her thoughts, does the same with the yellow. She doesn’t see Bell’s answering sneer, and I pretend to ignore it while I don the blue one.

We’re lined up and this time, the leader, Bere, and his second, Locke, look us over. Bere nods when Locke remarks that, now that we’re clean, our conditions aren’t as bad as he feared they’d be under all the grime.

‘Aye,’ he murmurs, his eyes stick firmly on Bell’s ample chest, ‘we likely won’t need a healer after all.’

He glances at Ila and they discuss their plans. I don’t make the mistake of looking at them, or even making it apparent that I’m listening, letting my eyes lose focus as I stare out at the rapidly darkening forest.

‘Of course, we’d get more if they were clearly breeding by the time we came to sell,’ Bere remarks.

Locke nods in my periphery.

My heart picks up speed, remembering what he said when he was touching me, that I was fertile for the right bull.

‘But then we’ll need to waste time while they were rutted, keep them until their bellies were showing. It’s such a hassle.’