Trickster's Choice Read Online Free PDF

with bruises. There was also a purple knot on the back of her head. That was a gift from one of the pirates, who had not expected her to know so many tender spots where her nails could inflict serious pain. To anyone inside or outside the pen, she looked as cowed as any slave about to be sold for the dozenth time.

    Aly’s brain, however, ticked steadily, working through what was likely to happen and what she could do about it. Tomorrow the slaves in her pen were to be sold. Escape from the pen was not impossible, but it would have required more time than she had, and there was the nuisance of her leather collar to consider. Her best bet was to be sold. She could then leave her new masters, acquire money and clothes, and take ship for home.

    It was the selling part that most concerned her. At her age, she would be considered ripe for a career as a master’s toy. This was not acceptable. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about her virginity yet, but she did know that she wanted to give it up when
she
chose.

    To that end she had eaten little until now. The other slaves had thought her mad for giving away half of the pittance they were fed, but Aly did not want to be as shapely as she had looked at home. The head shaving had been a blessing, though the pirates hadn’t meant it to be. Anything that made her look odd and troublesome would help her to avoid masters who might buy her for pleasure.

    Aly watched her companions over her arms. They clustered around the gate, knowing supper was on its way. When it came, she would get a last chance to make herself as undesirable as possible without actually cutting off important body parts.

    The slaves stirred. Keys rattled. The gate groaned as it was pushed open from outside. The slaves shrank from the guards armed with padded batons who entered first, to hold them back. Cooks tossed a number of small bread loaves onto the floor. Next they set down pots of weak porridge. The slaves surged forward with the wooden bowls they’d been issued on their arrival.

    The strongest captives kept things orderly at first. They held off the rest as they helped themselves and their friends. Only when they retreated did the others descend like starving animals to seize what remained.

    Aly deliberately flung herself into the flailing mass of limbs, offering herself as a target for any elbow, fist, knee, or foot that might help to make her look ugly. She fended off the worst blows with tricks of hand-to-hand combat taught to her by her parents. The rest, accidental or weak, sharp or soft, Aly endured. Her skin would have few white patches left when she was done. The rest would be bruised, cut, and scratched, the signs of a fighter.

    A white starburst of pain opened over her right eye. An elbow rammed her lower lip on her left, splitting it. She didn’t see the fist that struck her nose, but through the bones in her head she heard it break.

    Blood rolled down the back of her throat. Heaving, Aly struggled out of the crowd. She stumbled back to her corner, her face blood-streaked and her lip swollen to the size of a small mouse. Once she had the pen’s wooden walls at her back and side, she clenched her teeth and molded the broken cartilage of her nose so that it wouldn’t heal entirely crooked. The pain made her eyes water and her head spin. Still, she was pleased with herself and with the slaves who had unknowingly helped to mark her.

    A while later someone’s foot nudged her—it belonged to the big woman who’d been thrown into the pen two days before. Aly blinked up at her with eyes swollen nearly shut.

    “That was stupid,” the woman informed her as she crouched beside Aly. In one hand she offered a crust of bread soaked in thin porridge. In the other she held a bowl of water and a rag. Aly examined the bread with the magic that was her parents’ legacy. It seemed unlikely that anyone would try to poison her, but checking was a reflex. She saw none of the green glow of poison