Page 68 of Loreblood

Paddles lifted in earnest, popping up like gophers from their holes.

“Five for the oldest, ten for the lot!” wailed one man.

“Four apiece!” yelled another.

Thus started the bidding war.

Halfway through, once the price of the girls had risen to around five or six copper each, Pukren added new kindling to the fire. “Hoy, forgot to mention the best part, I did!”

The shouting fell to low murmurs. Paddles lowered.

His ugly smile returned. “They’resisters.”

Gasps came from the crowd. Paddles jumped in a flurry.

“Eighteen for ‘em!”

“Twenty three!”

“Tencoppers each!”

The girls ended up going for thirty-three total, or eleven coins each. However you wanted to divvy up the amount, it was appalling to witness. They were dragged off from the stage, and the man who bought the trio received pats on the back and good-natured ribbings from his friends as he pushed through the throng of men with his prizes.

“Next up, got us two boys. Twelve and sixteen, thereabouts,” Pukren began.

They were skinny and wide-eyed like the girls, dressed in tatters. The one who had seen sixteen summers stood taller than Pukren himself, who was a stoop-backed man of middling years.

“Sixteen?!” cried out one man. “That’s too old for any of the purposes I have for ‘em!”

Another man laughed. “Keep it in your pants, you lout!”

“Aye. You don’t like it, don’t bid!” said another.

I shook my head, sighing heavily. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. It was good I kept my nails short or they would have drawn blood against my palms, I clenched so tightly.

“Take over,” Lukain muttered to Antones. “Keep an eye on the older one.”

He strode past me. My brow furrowed as I watched him disappear into the crowd, headed away from the stage.

Antones said, “I’m not seeing it. He looks lanky. Too scared.”

“I was lanky too when you got me,” I said. “Look how I turned out.”

Ant smirked. “Good point.”

My gaze remained on the crowd, not the stage, watching as Lukain’s tall form vanished past the door where he’d been looking earlier.

Grinding my teeth together, I bounced my knee impatiently.

Antones lifted his paddle. “I’ll put ten on the older one.”

“They’re a two-package deal, ol’ Ant,” Pukren answered. “Ten for each?”

“Twelve.”

“Fourteen,” countered someone I couldn’t see.

Antones’ focus was on the stage, battling for the lives of these two boys.