CHAPTER TWO

For my final day among my family, I spend most of the day as usual. Cleaning for the wealthier noblemen of the city, putting in my last effort to see that my family is cared for. Though I know having one less mouth to feed will make quite a difference, I can only hope one of my younger sisters is ready for the responsibility of taking my place of the provider. My mother assures me that my siblings have been informed of my engagement, and the next eldest daughter will be taking my place. It seems a bitter thing, how easily replaced I am. I know I should not feel bitter, but I can not help feeling as though my existence means so little in the grand scheme of things. I try to tell myself not to be selfish, that this whole thing is being done out of sheer necessity. I should be glad that my gracious parents were able to find a suitable husband for me.

I try to empty my mind of these thoughts as I sweep the floors of one of my wealthier neighbors' home, knowing that following this train of thought will only end in heartache. It should have never been a problem for me to find a husband, I should have worked harder so my father could provide a suitable dowry. I should have made an effort in my appearance more often. It would be better, if even by the smallest fraction if I had a husband of my own choosing. I sweep the floors more vigorously, aware of the lady of the house watching me with a sly smile. She is probably one of many who knows I could not land a man on my own. The shame burns like a thousand fires blazing inside of me. I would liken the flame to that of the dragon king; Ayshek, if I thought even his inferno could compare to this agony.

When the floor shines, I receive my few coins as payment and move on to the next house. On my way, however, I see my mother seeking me out. I gather the coins I've earned today, approaching my mother and slipping them into her pocket. She smiles her expression still tinted with an air of melancholy.

“Your husband will be coming to fetch you soon, Rynna. You must return home and bathe, clothe yourself in something that will appeal to his manhood,” my mother murmurs, taking me by the arm and leading me back to the slums on the outskirts of the city.

“But I have not finished my daily cleaning cycle,” I stammer out, glancing over my shoulder. For a moment, I find myself hoping that my husband will be one of the wealthy noblemen in town. A man of wealth would have no need for my dowry, a man of wealth could afford to go based on looks alone; the more primal instinct of man. I trail behind my mother, my attitude somewhat perkier with this thought in mind. Though I know giving myself to my husband will be a somewhat painful and trying task, I find myself looking forward to my potentially extravagant future.

When we reach our small shack, my father presents me with an extravagant if yet somewhat revealing outfit, the likes of which I can only wonder how he managed to afford. I take the clothing from him, smiling and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He embraces me tightly, holding me as if he never wishes to let go. However, the moment ends and he ushers me towards the back of the house where I may bathe in privacy. I use the most fragrant of soaps we have, eager to tantalize my husband's senses. I laboriously wash my hair, the tangled locks taking some time to part and properly braid. When I step out, I dry myself swiftly before eagerly dressing in the extravagant clothes I had been granted. I examine my reflection in the mirror, marveling at how the rich red tones of the dress compliment my dark complexion. There are gold accents, and I find myself wondering if it is real gold before immediately dismissing the idea. Such would certainly be beyond my father's means. All the same, I take another moment to twirl in front of the mirror, watching the skirt flutter around my legs. I smile at my reflection, musing that for the first time I actually feel beautiful.

I step out of the bathing area and find my father speaking to a man with a wagon parked in front of our shack. I hesitate, uncertain of what this peddler could possibly want with us. I see him pass a bag full of coin to my father, and he looks up, meeting my gaze. My father gestures for me to approach, and I do so warily, wondering what my father had given up to receive such an exorbitant payment.

“Yes, yes. She looks rather fetching in the dress my master has provided, I’m sure she will fetch a pretty penny. It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir,” the strange man announces, stepping forward to roughly grab me by the arm. My eyes widen in shock as he drags me towards the wagon, and I cry out for my father. He watches with a defeated expression, turning his back upon me as I am thrown into the wagon. There are a half dozen other women in here, all shackled in place with heavy metal restraints. I struggle against the man, refusing to believe the truth of the matter. As he shackles my leg, however, I have little choice but to face the reality of the matter.

My parents have sold me into slavery. There was no husband. It was all a ploy.

Tears spill down my cheeks, but none of the other women make a move to comfort me. They simply watch me with cold expressions, betraying nothing with their gaze.

“Hold on, ladies. Off to the market we go,” the peddler calls out to us, and the other women brace themselves the best they can. I simply remain on the floor, watching my family home fade into the distance as we are driven away.

I realize I will likely never see my family again. Somehow… somehow this stings more than their betrayal.