Alyna hates this.

  While she’s scurrying through the crowd, it’s fine. She’s just one of many. Unseen, unnoticed. And those who do look at her soon see the collar around her neck and immediately lose interest. But very soon, she’ll need to shed that comfortable cloak of anonymity in order to, what, help Markus buy a load of useless bodies? People he’s never met and who are likely to be either vicious, mad, or done with life?

  But then, what about her new master – who likes to pretend he isn’t except when it suits him – is normal?

  It makes Alyna feel uncertain and that’s something else she despises. She always has a hundred and one plans, but it’s hard to plan for someone who keeps defying her expectations at every moment.

  Because who pays slaves? And better than she used to get in a tenday of begging on the streets. She doesn’t even have to pay for food or shelter! It’s incredible – and completely unbelievable.

  Alyna can’t help but wonder what lies behind this facade of kindness. What are Markus’ plans? Is he fattening them up for some sort of ritual? She’s heard whispers of that sort of thing – the darkest arts. Where the sacrifice isn’t simply someone’s life but someone’s dreams or hopes by betraying them when they had finally begun to trust.

  Stay sharp, she tells herself. If I get any indication that that’s his game, I’ll take the money he’s given me and run. Markus had seemed a better bet than taking her chances on the open market of the lists, especially after he actually freed Loran, but if he turns out to be some warlock, Alyna won’t stick around.

  I’ll do my best to figure out a way of getting rid of this collar, she decides. Perhaps the Master Enchanter will give me access to runes I can use. Though that will still leave her with this Bond to deal with – she’s heard from Rory how it was able to pull him back from halfway across the city.

  Perhaps that’s why Markus is confident enough in his mastery to allow, no, encourage one of his slaves to learn more of runes. It’s not something that slaves are usually trained in, but if he can be certain of his authority even without the collar, Alyna can understand the benefits of him having an enchanter for a slave. It’s certainly more understandable than many of his other actions.

  Like this one. Why does he want to buy all the slaves here? When he has access to far more accomplished and less damaged ones through the list. More expensive, yes, but the Heir of Titanbend can’t be strapped for cash. Could it be that he wants to practise more normal dark rituals? Ones that require human sacrifice? And that he doesn’t want to pay too much for slaves who are just going to bleed out soon enough?

  Worryingly, there’s a part of Alyna that’s convinced her fears are groundless. A part that’s sure Markus’ intentions are good. And that’s the scariest thing, because it makes her fear that she’s losing her ability to see him objectively. That his attempts to lull her into complacency are working.

  Just keep paying attention, she reminds herself. Don’t let down your guard. If slaves start disappearing for innocent-sounding reasons, I’ll know that there’s more to this than he wants us to believe.

  Her thoughts die away to quiet murmurs as she focusses on the muscular guard in front of her. Though she knows her master wants her to speak to the auctioneer, there’s no way she’s getting through to him immediately.

  “Excuse me, sir?” she starts, disliking that her voice comes out meeker and quieter than she’d intended. He doesn’t even hear it – his focus is on the crowd in front of the stage. A crowd that’s starting to get a little rowdy. Alyna swallows dryly – she can feel the tension simmering in the air, growing with every bid that her master snipes at the last moment.

  If the crowd breaks out into violence, she won’t be able to run away as she usually would – with this collar around her neck and Bond wound around her being, she’ll be right in the middle of whatever happens. Unlike the others, she has neither magic nor weapons nor armour to defend herself.

  As it has many times before, necessity gives her the strength to force her fears away. She clears her throat and speaks more loudly.

  “Excuse me, sir,”

  The guard looks down at her. There’s the usual look at her face which widens into appreciation as it takes in her unusual features. Then the flicker downwards towards her chest. This time, though, it’s caught on her throat – on her collar. The interest disappears, replaced by irritation.

  “What is it?” he demands roughly, already turning away to survey the crowd once more.

  “My master has a deal for the auctioneer. He’ll want te hear it,” Alyna tells him with more confidence than she feels. She even tries to enunciate as clearly as possible, knowing that a slave who sounds like a street rous will be dismissed more easily than someone who sounds more like Loran does now – posh.

  The guard scoffs.

  “Your master can bid on the lots same as everyone else. Now begone – I have a job to do.”

  Alyna won’t be deterred – she can feel the eyes of her master on her and knows that she can’t fail him in this, the first real task he’s given her. Her thoughts race.

  “An’ if the crowd turns on him before he can even pay for those he’s already bought, yer master will lose out,” she points out. The guard freezes, then slowly turns his head back to focus on her.

  “Your master is the one who’s bought the last few lots?”

  “Aye,” she confirms. “An’ who wants te buy all the rest, too. Believe me, the auctioneer will not be happy iffen ye let this opportunity go.”

  The guard hesitates, sending a look at Alyna’s master. She follows his gaze, her own practice in assessing targets enabling her to almost read his thoughts: several figures with decent-quality cloaks that conceal their clothes, three of them with the bearing of trained fighters. And more telling, the two powerful beasts standing calmly with intelligent glints in their eyes. While no one would expect the Heir of House Titanbend to be at a market like this, Alyna’s master is clearly an accomplished Tamer, and most likely a Classer.

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  “Stay here,” the guard says finally. Alyna obeys as the guard leaves his post and moves up the steps of the stage. He speaks to a man who’s clearly in charge of directing the stage. Alyna isn’t close enough to hear what the guard says, but she hears the urgent tone. The stage manager’s eyes flick to Alyna herself, and then out to the group at the back of the crowd.

  In turn, the stage manager moves to speak to the auctioneer himself, causing the auction to pause for a moment. There’s a repeat of the glances and then, not long after, the auctioneer hurries down the steps.

  “Your master has an offer for me?” he asks Alyna brusquely, but keeps his voice down. She sees his guards moving to block the crowd from seeing or hearing the conversation. It blocks her own view of her master and her heart briefly skips a beat.

  I’m here, don’t worry. Markus’ voice makes her jump – though she’s got used to hearing it in her head, for some reason it’s more shocking to hear it so clearly when the man is barely in shouting range. She suddenly has more sympathy for Rory. I can hear what you do so just let me know if you need help. You don’t need to feel like you have to navigate this conversation on your own.

  As if that’s not worrying by itself, Alyna comments sarcastically to herself, though fear frissons down her spine at the thought that her master might have heard it. If he did, he doesn't comment on it.

  “Yes, my master wants te buy the rest of the slaves ye have on offer here,” Alyna tells the auctioneer. He frowns a little – perhaps at her lack of bowing and scraping; perhaps at the request itself.

  “And as my man has probably already told you, he can bid on the lots just as everyone else does,” the auctioneer replies, though Alyna can sense that it’s said in a different way from the guard’s dismissive statement. This time, the auctioneer is offering her the opportunity to give him a good reason why that shouldn’t be the case. Alyna hesitates.

  Do you want me to drop your name here, or save it for later? she asks Markus silently.

  Hint at it now, but don’t give it fully yet, Alyna’s master replies almost immediately.

  “My master is an influential man and would…appreciate it iffen ye would make his life a little easier,” Alyna starts slowly, trying to draw on some of the business deals she saw Dexil involved in. “An’ ye’ve seen the crowds – how will they react iffen my master continues winning bids? Because he will.” She makes sure to put certainty into her last words – the implication that her master has plenty of money should help convince the auctioneer to give this proposition a second look.

  The dealer certainly looks thoughtful as he strokes his trimmed beard.

  “Tell me, why did your master send you? Why not come himself?”

  “My master is too important te make such deals himself,” Alyna swiftly answers, taking a risk. “He has given me permission te speak fer him.” She pretends nonchalance even as her insides draw tight – he might take offence at that, in which case Alyna will need to drop Markus’ name. However, hopefully, he will take it as a sign that Alyna’s master is indeed an important and influential person.

  “Is he, now?” the auctioneer muses eyeing her closely. Alyna swallows heavily. Though lacking the lust that she often sees in men’s eyes, there’s a cold appraisal to his gaze that makes her feel naked – like a piece of meat on a chopping block. Fear grows in her belly – that she will be the reason he rejects the deal. Surely he can tell she’s a street urchin at heart, and what important man would have a street urchin speak for him?

  Alyna controls a shiver as she wonders what Markus might do to her if she fails him here.

  “Sir, the crowd is getting restless,” warns the guard who Alyna first spoke with. Sure enough, when Alyna focusses on the sounds from outside the ring of guards, she hears irritation and dissatisfaction in the noises of the people gathered for the auction.

  “It seems our time is short,” the auctioneer murmurs, his shrewd gaze fixing itself on Alyna. She struggles not to shrink under it. “What does your master offer?”

  “Seventy silvers apiece,” Alyna blurts out, the words Markus’ own.

  The auctioneer scoffs and true irritation crosses his face. He shifts in place, about to leave.

  “Seventy silvers? While I concede that a few are unlikely to reach that mark, there are more who are almost guaranteed to surpass it.”

  “Seventy silvers and his future patronage,” Alyna clarifies.

  The auctioneer pauses, half-turned away already.

  “And who is your master, that I should desire his patronage so strongly?”

  May I drop your name now, my lord?

  Yes. Do it now.

  “My master is Lord Markus. Heir of House Titanbend,” Alyna tells him in a hushed tone.

  The auctioneer freezes in place, his eyes widening. Then he swallows, his throat notch bobbing below his beard.

  “Is it possible?” he quietly asks his stage manager who’s standing halfway up the stairs, keeping an ear on the conversation and an eye on the stage and crowd.

  “He is clearly an influential Tamer,” the stage manager confirms. “Beyond that, I can see no crests – but the cloaks would cover that.”

  The dealer returns down the steps and bends down to bring his face close to Alyna’s. He hooks one finger in her collar and her gorge rises at the way the action makes him brush the skin of her throat.

  “Listen well, girl. If I stop this auction and your master turns out to just be some common Tamer, it won’t end well for him – or for you. Now, do you want to change your story?”

  Impotent rage rises within Alyna, tangled inextricably with fear. The slave dealer’s foul breath plays across her skin, almost making her gag. But she’s faced more frightening men, and those without backing or any guarantee that she’ll get out of the situation alive.

  “No,” she replies, forcing her tone to show no concern, blanking her face of any emotion.

  The dealer’s eyes flicker over her expression for a long moment before he stands upright. Then, moving more quickly than Alyna can react, he pulls a length of chain off his belt and snaps it to the ring in her collar. Alyna doesn’t need to look at it to feel the magic in it. She doubts anyone but him will be able to get it off.

  “Insurance,” he tells her with a thin smile. “I’m sure your master will understand.”

  Will understand, my foot, Markus snarls in the back of Alyna’s mind. It’s odd – Alyna would never have thought that the anger of a man who has power over her might possibly be reassuring, but in this case, she can feel that it’s concern for her that drives it. It gives Alyna hope that he won’t take it out on her later, for all that she does her best to chase that hope away for fear of it being disappointed.

  In the meantime, the auctioneer has turned to one of the guards.

  “Go invite this girl’s master to join me to…finalise our arrangement,” he instructs.

  “Sir, they’re already coming,” the guard replies.

  The slave dealer turns to eye Alyna speculatively. She keeps her head up stubbornly, though she can’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes, instead directing her gaze at the back of one of the guards keeping the increasingly agitated crowd away.

  “Speak with his voice, eh,” the dealer murmurs thoughtfully. “Well. That will make it easier, I suppose.”

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