It only gets worse once we’re freed from the hole. Since there’s two of them, as soon as we’re out, the trolls separate Morgan and me. I don’t know why each of the trolls heads off in separate directions, but they do, and I don’t know who I’m more scared for—especially when the troll who has me slung over his shoulder, his stony shoulder digging in my gut, carries me to the same type of tent I got dragged to the last time I was at the market.
Inside the cramped red tent, there are at least ten cages but they’re all empty. No nix this time, and as time creeps by, no Morgan, either. It’s just me, thrown in an iron cage that’s as unbreakable today as it was then, and it stays that way for long enough that I start to get super worried.
Morgan is fae, with a good amount of Unseelie magic. She can take care of herself, right?
Oh, I really, really hope so.
Me? There’s nothing I can do. The cage is locked so, even if the iron doesn’t bother me, I’m still stuck. Unfortunately, based on what happened last time, being forced into the cramped cage is probably the best thing that’s going to happen to me for a while.
I lost track of how much time has passed before, suddenly, the opening to the tent ripples. Two trolls just manage to squeeze inside. Though it’s hard to tell, I think the one holding a ceramic tub in his gigantic hands is the one he carried me here. Was the other one in charge of Morgan?
“Where’s my friend?” I demand, fingers wrapped around the iron bars, hands rattling them as I try to make them look at me. “What did you do to her?”
“Don’t you worry about that one.” There’s that oily voice again. Peeking out from behind one of the troll’s thick legs, I see a little, wizened old man wearing a red cap. His beady eyes light up in delight when he sees me. Trust me, it’s not mutual. “I was feeling generous. I let her go free. She’s probably safe deep in the Shadow Realm by now.”
My hands drop from the bars. “She… she left me?”
“Why, of course she did. I let her live after what she did to my troll, and she left the market without trying to retrieve you. It was a fair trade even if she did smash Crusty.”
What? How?
“It was worth letting the Unseelie go. She wouldn’t have fetched much if I put her on the block in the Shadow Realm. But you...” The redcap licks his lips. “I knew I’d see you back on the block, human. And it doesn’t matter that you’ve been touched. I’ll still get plenty from Lord Veron.”
No. No, no, no, no.
I don’t realize that I’m repeating the words out loud—I thought the constant refrain was inside of my head—until the redcap lets out this vicious little wheeze of a laugh.
“Oh, yes. As soon as I realized it was you I caught in my trap, I sent a message to his lord that he might be interested in the auction tonight. His vassal is already on his way to place his bid.”
“You… you can’t do this.”
“I can do anything I like, human,” he sneers. “And, right now, I must get you ready for the block.” Turning to the troll, he orders, “Wash her.”
Wash me? What the hell does that—
I screech when a tub full of ice freaking cold water gets dropped on my head.
Sputtering, trying to spit out some of the water I inhaled when I screeched, I back up against the bars of my cage, desperate to dodge another deluge. I wipe my eyes roughly, pushing at the stray strands of hair now plastered to my forehead.
The other troll tosses a tiny scrap of fabric through the bars. I didn’t even notice him holding it since his fist is so big but, when it lands to the right of me, I see it’s a human-sized towel.
“Dry off,” the redcap says. “Make yourself presentable. And don’t get any smart ideas. You’ll go out on the block looking like you’re worth all the coin in the world, or you’ll go out there naked and we’ll see how much the Seelie lord will offer for you then.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I don’t have much to work with, but by dipping the end of the towel in some of the water that pooled in my cage, I make a washcloth. I scrub at my hands, my neck, my face until it feels like I’ve rubbed them raw. Luckily for me, my cloak took the brunt of my impromptu bath. My clothes underneath are mostly dr
y and as clean as I can expect after all my travel.
I finger-comb my hair, getting out the worst of the tangles before braiding it out of my face. That’s the best I can do without a brush, shampoo, or my straightener, and I guess it’s acceptable because, when the redcap returns with his goons, I’m allowed to keep my clothes on.
My bag of apples is gone; I don’t even know where they are. There weren’t many left, but I had come to rely on them like the security blanket they became. Before he lets me out of the cage, the redcap orders me to leave my cloak behind. He says it’s because he wants the market-goers to see what they’re bidding on, but I don’t care. It’s another blow to lose it.
By the time I’m forced to march out onto the auction block, I’m not sure how things are going to get any worse.
Of course, I should know better than to jinx myself.
The last time I found myself being sold at auction was right after I put my trust in the wrong people. I’m trying desperately not to think that I made the same mistake again—that Morgan tricked me the same way that the dwarves Mitzie and Parlo did—but this feels like déjà vu in the worst way.
The Faerie Market is a traveling set-up, similar to a carnival or a state’s fair. It even has its own array of tents where the nomadic sellers—including the creepy little redcap—conduct their business and stash their wares. The market itself, though, takes place in the big top tent, a structure that, from the outside, looks like it could fit a football field inside comfortably.