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Chapter 59: The Market
Last Updated:
2024-07-13 23:09:05
Lola EversonThank you for reading!
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“I will never be like you.” I whisper, more as a promise to myself than a declaration. “Time is the greatest truth teller.” She murmurs. We stand in silence as body after body is bought and sold. Field hands, butlers, maids, cooks, child brides, stable boys— every person it takes to run the household is sold like saddles and mops. I see the faces of my friends who work the Alpha’s estate in each one of these people, each drop of the sales gavel shatters another part of my heart. The pain is a consequence of my observation of this ongoing tragedy without having the courage to intervene. Intervention meant death though. Maybe even a fate worse than that. I feel a tingling on my skin almost like I am being touched by a spirit. Their fingers ghosting along my arms and shoulders to get my attention. A young woman is being led to the platform. Her eyes snap to mine as the feeling intensifies. She looks plain. The type of woman you must have seen a million times before. Nothing notabl
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His eyes linger on me. His gaze lights my skin ablaze, I feel flushed from his attention on me. My mind thinking of other things my hot mouth could wrap around. His gaze fixed on me as I perform. “Enjoying the cone?” He asks shamelessly. “Immensely.” I say much more breathy than intended. “You would be surprised how many delicious things there are to sample here in the Kingdom of the Moon.” He says with an edge of flirtation. I should be disgusted by his advances. He represents everything that is wrong. His flirtation with the help so openly in the market is scandalous, even if I am of noble birth. I should be offended as a proper lady that he would even feel so emboldened. “Any good meat dishes you would recommend, your highness?” I say coquettishly, the look of innocence on my face hiding my double meaning. My tongue tracing the peak of my ice cream before retreating to my mouth. A soft growl rumbles in his chest. It might be my undoing. I would let him take me right here
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“With whom? Yourself?” I ask with an edge of sarcasm. “You think so poorly of me?” She asks like a wounded child. The question hangs between us. The truth is, I have no idea what she is capable of. “I was born two hundred years ago. Malakai was a story for the history books for wolves by then, but for witches, it was like it was yesterday. For the Tribe of Circe, the need for retribution was palpable and ubiquitous. It was centered in everything. Being the first daughter in a long line of first daughters from first daughters, I was groomed to take the throne. Once my powers were bestowed upon me after my ascension, I was positioned to be the hope of the coven.” She begins to explain after a period of silence. “What is the price of remaining youthful?” I ask, thinking back to all the stories of my youth of wicked witches and their depravity. “At two hundred I have barely left my adolescence. I am still very young.” She says, a look of disappointment in my provincial views. W
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“I prefer order to destruction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of it. I’m tired of not knowing things.” I say in a menacing whisper as I plait the Luna’s hair to prepare her for bed. Her and I are alone, but I take no chances or someone overhearing us. “The truth reveals itself in its own time, as it should.” She replies cryptically. “You cannot compel a flower to bloom. It reveals itself when the time is right.” I yank her hair a little tighter than necessary in my frustration. “Mind yourself.” She warns, staring intensely at me in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “I know nothing of what is to come. I don’t even understand what I am and what I’m capable of. How can I navigate this world safely if I am ignorant to how to protect myself?” I ask exasperated by this entire situation. In a perfect world, I would not have to rely on my mother for anything. This is not a perfect world. “Truth be told, I’m not quite sure what you are capable of either.” She says softly. “You
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“I felt strange when I first saw your servant. She gives off an energy.” I confide in my mother. She smirks. “What does it feel like?” “Like ghosts dancing upon my skin.” I say quietly. “She is a witch. She hails from our tribe, though from a lesser line.” She says. “So will my skin always tingle when I’m near a witch?” I ask, confused. My mother laughs heartily. “No!” She finally manages to say between giggles. “Well, maybe. Every witch senses things differently. It’s hard to say what you can or cannot sense without time and observation. Our powers are things we grow into. Some are more powerful than others in sensing energies and intentions.” “Hm. So how do I interpret these feelings and signs?” I ask. “Your guardian will help guide you. Only she knows how you access the source.” She explains. “So why did you buy a witch at market?” I ask, changing the subject. “She needs entrance to the Moon Ceremony. She is also vying to achieve our tribe’s purpose. I think she me
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