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skirt that jerked
around her thick ankles in the fierce wind.
    Bethany was ushered into a small room with a
long trough of water and thin towels. The woman prodded them into
position with her own staff.
    “Off wiff 'em rags,” she ordered.
    Bethany glanced around, seeing the others
begin to pull their clothing off. She swallowed the lump in her
throat. She had been raised to be a modest, private person, as all
her siblings had. Even those not of royal blood in Tokë were
modest. No one was permitted to see her naked, not even her maids.
That honor was saved for her spouse.
    “What'd Ah jes say?” slurred the woman as she
jabbed Bethany in the back with her stick.
    “Please, ma'am,” Bethany begged, trying to
put as much deference into her voice as she could, desperation
forcing her to be diplomatic. “May I have some privacy?”
    Bethany glanced at the other slaves, hoping
for their support. They had stopped in their efforts and were
watching the confrontation. Their eyes grew wide, just as Bethany
felt a blow to her side hard enough to knock the air from her
lunges. She doubled over, wrapping her arms around her filthy
stomach.
    “Ye'll git nak'd right here an' now, an'
clean yerself good, ye hear!” snapped the plump woman.
    Bethany blinked the tears from her eyes and
with shaking fingers began pulling at the laces of her gown. She
forced her eyes to stay focused on her own task, refusing to be
witness to the other people's shame. She just hoped they'd do the
same for her. The hum she heard from the man next to her suggested
otherwise, but he was quickly silence by a hard jab from the
woman's staff.
    She didn't try to wipe the tears from her
cheeks as she pulled the sodden dress from her body. Though she had
experienced horrors beyond her wildest dreams during the last month
of captivity, this new degradation was a distinct breaking point.
With her gown, she discarded the last hope of ever returning to the
life she had known. No man would marry her now that this gift had
been stolen by another. Not only would she never marry, but she
would never fulfill the one role she had been raised to do: bring
wealth and alliance to her family through marriage.
    While they cleansed themselves with pungent
smelling powder and filmy water, another woman entered and removed
their discarded robes. When they were finished, thin unisex
garments were slipped over their heads and bound to their waists by
worn leather belts. The one given to Bethany was too long and she
found herself tripping over its hem.
    Finally, the row of newly-dressed slaves were
led out of the bathing room and back into the courtyard, which had
begun to fill with wealthy men dressed in warm furs despite being
the middle of May. The slavers herded them up onto a rickety
platform, made more unstable by the fierce wind. Bethany began to
wonder what torment they would invent for her next when one of the
slavers lifted his hands and the noisy crowd grew silent.
    After a short introduction, the bidding
began.

    Cal walked along side Éimhin as he entered
the sprawling city of Tolad. The city spread out over numerous
hills and valleys in a wide swath surrounded by the peaks of the
Southern Mountains. Even in May, the mountain city was cold with a
sharp wind that came down off the snow-covered mountains. Cal had
begun to sweat on the last trek up the mountain side, but as the
ground leveled off and the wind swept through the streets, he felt
the liquid cause his skin to sting.
    The scarred knight was just beginning to near
the castle itself when he heard a loud voice call his name.
    “Cal is that you?” asked the recognizable
voice.
    Cal turned to see Prince Féderic Eberhand,
eldest son of King Wolfric, approaching on his sleek horse. Fed
always did prefer speed over power. As much as Cal despised the
prince, he had to admit Federic was a handsome man, with sunny
blond hair that nearly reached his shoulders, a long formidable
nose that somehow didn’t over power his