She stared at him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. She wanted to say that she was angry, she knew that she should be, but all she felt then was something cold and hollow. She'd been bought. Somehow after everything she'd done, everything she had ever done and everyone she had turned on, she'd still ended up here, and the only thing that was worse was knowing that Iris had gone before her. She shook her head, her mouth so dry, her face so slack as she stared on ahead. It was time to wake up now, time to remember that this was just a bad dream and get on with the day.
Her boots were heavy as she followed the others down another long corridor, heavier than they had ever been before. She wasn't supposed to be here, she shouldn't be, this was all a mistake. She shook her head again, her eyes flicking up and seeing a man dressed in dark, leather clothing, almost as dark as his skin, a type of skin she had never seen before, not on anyone alive at least. He tutted when they came close, his face a deep, tight scowl when he said, "You're late."
And one of the men leading their group clicked his tongue. "Things take time," he said.
"My Master is waiting," that man snapped.
She looked at him closer then, now knowing what those bands on his wrists and ankles and that silver collar around his neck meant. Those men looked like they wanted to say something else, the slave's dark eyes narrowing in warning and they all shook their heads. He nodded to another slave behind him and he darted forward, removing those bands on their wrists and replacing them with fresh, shining ones just like they were both wearing, but it was the feel of that collar around her neck that had Phoenix's skin bristling. There was a burning in the pit of her stomach when she heard the click of it shutting, a click that burned both hot and cold and almost left her breathless. She was not like them, she was not a slave, she was not a Woodlander, but she could live with them thinking that for now.
That man led them down another corridor to a sleek, black van that somehow floated above the ground without making a sound. She felt her eyes go wide, wanting to lie on the floor and stare up at it, wanting to pull it apart and find out how it worked, but he opened the door, jerking his head towards the back of the van and staring at them before she could. Phoenix couldn't step in, she couldn't, not when she didn't know where it was going, not when she didn't know what was in there. That man sighed, tapping his foot on the ground, and then there was a loud clinking of metal as four sets of wristbands clanged together. There was no fighting the pull of them then, her jaw clenching shut, her face furrowing into a deep crease as she was dragged inside.
He climbed in behind them, the door closing, the back of the van then much darker than it had been before. She wanted to move, she could feel the heat of his arm against hers and she couldn't take it. How many people had this man taken to their fates like this? How many would she recognize and would recognize her? She tried to pull away, only making it a few inches before she knocked into someone else. That beast of a man, Boris, stared down at her, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before they flicked to the man beside her, but he didn't say anything, only moving a little to the side so she could come closer, and she gave him a quick nod.
"Where are we going?" Belfire asked.
"Quiet."
She stared at Belfire, a part of her not wanting to, a part of her unable to look away. She had done many cruel things in her life, had many cruel things done to her, but this one was a bit harder to swallow. It wouldn't take that man much, nothing at all really, to tell Belfire where he was heading. He deserved to know to get himself ready, and if there was no doing that, then he at least deserved to know. She heard Mia crying then, Phoenix closing her eyes and shaking her head. Iris would not be crying like that, she shouldn't be, she hoped she wasn't. Phoenix needed her to be strong, stronger than she had ever needed her to be before so she would have time to find her. She felt the van slowing, the door flying open and that man stepping outside, and all she could see then was sand, sand and a pale, stone wall, the sky dark and the stars bright above it.
Sand? Just how far had they travelled? Had she been asleep longer than she'd thought before they'd made it to the auction house?
"Get out," that man said, but Phoenix couldn't move.
One step outside this van and everything would become real, too real. She would be a slave and Iris would be caught, and she would never again be able to say that they had always been free, but then that man tutted, his eyes narrowing in warning, and Phoenix saw herself being dragged out of that van by those bands. She gave a quick shake of her head, making to stand, but Belfire got there first, climbing down, his back stiff and his shoulders raised as he looked around. She followed, her boots crunching in the sand, her eyes darting around the walls, and she had to stifle a smile then, those walls were high, but not too high, smooth, but she had a thing or two with her that would help her climb.
She heard them then, all those whispers, all those shuffles of feet and the scraping of wood on stone, and she turned, her eyes going wide, her hand coming to clutch at the front of her suit as she stared at them. They were staring at her too, more people in one place than she had seen in a lifetime, all of their necks craning, their whispers growing louder and louder the longer they stood there. She couldn't hear what they were saying, her heart racing, her chest heaving, and she took a step back, already turning around to head back for the van, but she bumped into Boris. He was a big man, impossibly big and wide, his face scrunched up in a fierce scowl as he watched the others behind her.
She took a deep breath then, trying to remember what she still had left to do and trying to figure out how to do it, and she looked back at all those people, seeing them gathered in a large room on the other side of the yard, some of them sitting on the stone steps leading up to that room, some of them standing and sitting on the stools and tables inside so they could get a better look. She did not see one face that she recognized, not one streak of pale blonde hair or lilac eyes, and she did not know if that made things better, a part of her growing lighter the longer she searched, a part of her growing heavier, a part of her that was cold and selfish and didn't want to face this alone.
Her eyes flicked up when she heard a soft click, seeing that large balcony above that room filled with people. There was no one there, only a tall, open door, a pair of white curtains billowing in the breeze. She watched them carefully, knowing she had heard something, but then her skin went cold, her blood boiling, her jaw clenching tight when she heard something else.
"Woodlander…" someone had whispered, but she was not a Woodlander, they had to know that, she had to tell them before it was too late.
Her mouth opened ready to speak, but they all went quiet, the sound of someone clearing their throat making them all go stiff. Phoenix went stiff too, seeing that man up on the balcony dressed in a long, white robe, his fingers thrumming along the top of the thick, stone bannister. She almost gasped. Finally after all this time, after all this work and hardship, she was meeting one, a man who'd helped tip the scales and put her people where they were. His eyes were cold, so cold and sharp and dark, just like his hair, his pale skin just a shade darker than his robe. And she felt that burning again, her hand sliding to the top pocket on her thigh, knowing she could make that throw to land her grenade on that balcony.
"I am your new Master," he said, his voice so soft and quiet it was barely above a whisper. "Forget everything you were before you came here, none of that matters now. The only thing that does is that you are useful to me. Make sure you stay that way," he said, and Phoenix saw something flicker, not in his eyes but in his temples, a light cold and quick and bright. Implants, he had them too, at least one in each temple, but what he was controlling she could not see. "Emery is your teacher," he said, nodding towards the man who had brought them there. "You'll treat everything he says as if I have said it and I will know if you have disrespected him. I don't tolerate disrespect in my household," he said, those eyes narrowing, those Implants flickering again. "You do not want to find out what happens if my rules are disrespected, but for now, you only have one: listen to your training. Follow that one closely and you'll have nothing to fear from me."