Starlex rocked atop the white horse laboring under the weight of the family’s belongings. They rode two astride now, the horses’ hooves making loud clops against the worn-down brick road. Patches of greenery grew in abundance as they approached the metropolis. Again, she rose curiously in the saddle to observe the city rising majestically in the sand, its contours sharpening with each stride. The citadel’s sun-bleached, crenelated walls jutted four stories in the air. Beyond the borders, a dreamy panorama of domes and spires pressed like an ardent lover against a blue sky.

  The tangy aroma of the river floated on a sudden light breeze, mitigating the hot air stealing the breath from her lungs. For a moment, the smell swept her back in time to when she was a tiny child and would play along the banks of the Sylvan River that once girded her Mynimium. The river turned to sand after its walls were violated. She, Hyperia, and her cousin, Rigel, were liberated from Nargos’ clutches by Scipio Davadas, but in a way, they only had a more comfortable imprisonment within Oran palace.

  But how liberated am I now?

  She glanced about the riverbank at the fishermen casting nets and the women tending to rice crops on the far bank. As they approached the city gates, small markets appeared along the roadside. The aromas of food cooking made her stomach rumble. She slipped one hand between the folds of the red silk and rubbed her belly.

  We will be safe and fed soon, little one.

  But will she? She noticed the market people pausing in their chores and transactions to gape at her as she rode past. Words were uttered, then laughter. A mother pulled her child away from the road when he paused to point at her in his play.

  The Illymium princess, with her pale, iridescent skin, looked nothing like the people of the city she approached. Their bodies ranged from slim to stocky, but all of them were tall, even the women, with skin tones ranging from dark mahogany to smooth cream. She spied a few with honey-colored hair among the dark locks, but none possessed Starlex’s unique coloring. The women dressed modestly in linen shrouds dyed in dull shades of blue, saffron, or henna. None wore anything as bright as the crimson silk Starlex wore.

  No wonder they’re all staring at me. Why was I given this bright color to wear when the family has bolts of plain linen in their packs?

  Starlex cast a sidelong glance at her companions. The man sat proudly in his high-cantled saddle, a haughty smile twitching between his full beard and mustache. The woman clinging to his waist appeared placid, her lovely amber eyes directed ahead. The boy slept, open-mouthed, against her back.

  As they approached the open city gates, a band of young men crowded around them. Timid at first and following at a short distance, they became more vocal as their numbers grew. Starlex may not have understood their language, but she recognized the tone of jeers and abuse directed at her.

  A moment of panic seized her as the colossal city gate yawned open before them.

  Here is my chance to flee!

  She sat high in the saddle, perched to make her move when the man reached across her mount and roughly snatched the reins from her fingers. Starlex cast a desperate look at the woman. The woman’s amber eyes met hers with a quick flash before darting away.

  Three laughing young men walked alongside her now. She flinched when one reached out and stroked her leg. The patriarch, now her captor, spoke roughly to them and pulled a short whip from his belt. The young men backed off.

  “Where you are taking me?” Starlex said to the man in her tongue. She knew he didn’t understand, but she had to speak if only to let him know she had a voice.

  He darted a smirking glance her way, then brought both horses to a slow trot, kicking up clouds of sands.

  The trot became a canter, and soon they were riding through the gate. A crowd followed them, and it appeared to Starlex that the man was trying to outrun them. But why?

  The exhausted white horse lathered under her thighs. She could see white foam dripping from its mouth. Despite her love for animals, she half-hoped the horse would drop dead in the street if only to give her a chance to escape on foot.

  The streets were made of packed-down sand and the surrounding buildings of sun-baked brick. Market stalls lined either side of the main road intercepted by narrower tributaries branching up curved, shadowed streets.

  Women poked their scarf-covered heads from windows above, and everywhere there was the buzz of the people’s guttural language. They entered a low, shaded street that smelled of foul gases rising from ancient vents. Music hung in the air as scenes of men drinking and women dancing flashed by. The women all wore brightly colored shrouds, like the kind she wore.

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  The man held the white horse’s reins in his left hand aloft, proudly as if he were delivering a prize.

  And the prize is me.

  Somehow she guessed the kind of prize she was, a notion confirmed when the man slowed the horses to a walk and they entered a canopy of bright cloth, crimson like the color she wore, as well as rich greens and blues. The shade instantly cooled her skin, but her thirst ached.

  They’ve taken me to a brothel!

  The man pulled the horses to a halt before a stall where two women sat on worn tapestry cushions. One was clearly older, her eyes hard like black diamonds. Her stoutness and confidence appeared to dominate the younger, meeker one. Both had creamy skin and garishly painted faces. Their dresses were bright, pulled loosely down from their shoulders to reveal the tops of their breasts. The younger one was thin, though, with little breast to show. Her hair framed her sad, thin face in a limp, honey-colored curtain.

  The air was thick with sweet perfume. Starlex cast pleading eyes at the wife who had shown her kindness in the desert, but the woman had covered her entire face with her shroud. The boy huddled under her arm.

  Her captor pulled a coin from a leather purse attached to his belt and tossed it at the older woman. She caught it and dropped it in the deep space between her breasts. She whispered something to the younger, meeker-looking woman who nodded and quickly hurried through a slit in the curtain behind them.

  The older woman sauntered with swaying hips to the right side of Starlex’s mount. She carried a waterskin. Eyeing Starlex with a mix of fear and contempt, she handed it to Starlex. Starlex brought it to her lips and drank. The effect of the life-giving liquid on her body and mind was instantaneous. Starlex looked around for an escape route, but the man still gripped the reins tightly. Forlorn but refreshed, she handed the waterskin back to the woman with a nod. The woman huffed and placed the waterskin under her arm. She ran her dark eyes over Starlex’s body, scanning her up and down, before reaching out boldly and touching Starlex’s leg. Starlex flinched, and the woman cackled.

  A man, bald and middle-aged with leathery skin, parted the curtains, followed by the younger woman, who now crouched behind him, her bare feet twisting nervously beneath her skirt. The bald man wore a linen tunic, deep red and stained with sweat. A wide leather belt supported a rotund belly above rumpled linen trousers and suede boots laced to his knees. He crossed to the right side of the horse, shooing the older woman away with a slap on her buttocks. Gaping at Starlex with a twisted smile, he reached out to touch her thigh, stroking her skin with the back of his rough hand.

  He spat some words at Starlex’s captor. The man reached between the mounts and ripped the crimson shroud from Starlex’s head. Her white hair spilled to her waist.

  The bald man gasped and stepped back. His hooded eyes reminded Starlex of Quetzex, the dragon, and she shuddered with fear.

  More rapid words volleyed between the two men while the brothel women hovered in the silky shade.

  Starlex didn’t need to know their tongue to understand that there was a wager going on and that she was on the auction block. Her heart sank. How could she pass from one harsh world only to find herself in one much worse?

  Her thoughts flew back to flying her skiff over the choppy waters of the Crimson Sea with her friends as they sailed to Quartz Island to romp and play. How free she was then. Then she thought of Bonn and what her warrior husband would do to these men who haggled over her flesh. She imagined Bonn’s ax splitting the bald head of the crude procurer, and her courage rose.

  I must stay strong for Bonn and our baby.

  The men haggled a bit more until a price was decided. The bald man tossed a leather pouch at the man and barked an order at the two women. They immediately hopped to their feet. When Starlex saw that they intended to pull her from the saddle, she heeled the horse in an attempt to flee. But the procurer grabbed the reins as the horse reared up, and suddenly, she was toppling off the back of the animal. Her hip landed painfully on the dusty brick, followed by a tangle of exhausted limbs lacking the energy to flee or fight. A moan of despair escaped her lips.

  Lifting her cheek from the dirt, Starlex watched the family disappear in a cloud of dust. She didn’t blame the woman or the boy, but she would happily murder the man if she had a chance. She was imagining slicing his throat beneath his haughty beard when she was hoisted to her feet by the brothel women and pushed through the curtains.

  They entered a building through an arched doorway where bright, gaudy murals depicting naked nymphs and their satyric lovers decorated the walls. The two women made her stand before an oval pool, handling her with as much regard as they would selecting a ripe piece of fruit from a market stall. The water within the pool smelled of sulfur; it was far from clean.

  The bald man entered the room and gestured to the brothel women to step aside. They obeyed submissively, bowing their heads. He approached Starlex slowly as if savoring his new purchase. His crude mouth reminded Starlex of Nargos Nazeer, the way he’d looked at her the night she almost wed his son. Placing a finger as thick as a sausage beneath her chin, he tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.

  “Pefirikka,” he whispered with both reverence and contempt.

  What does that mean?

  She panted with fear as his rough hands traveled to her Nazeer wedding belt. Crudely encrusted with emeralds, it was the only tangible object connecting her to Ardelym.

  With rough fingers, he undid the belt, scrutinized it, and tossed it at the older woman, who caught it with a gleeful gasp.

  Starlex knew what was coming next, and she braced for it.

  Grabbing fistfuls of the crimson silk, the man ripped her silk shroud from neck to waist. Starlex shivered as it slowly fluttered to the floor. Her hands clamped instinctively over her breasts and pubic area as the man laughed crudely and made a slow promenade around her.

  “Wallana!” he barked.

  Starlex assumed that was the older woman’s name because she hopped to attention. The two exchanged words, and before Starlex could comprehend what was happening, Wallana rushed her through an arched doorway into a small room. Rough hands tossed her inside. Starlex landed on a low bed covered with tapestried cushions. Dust motes stirred in the light streaming from the one window placed high on the ceiling and tilting skyward.

  Stunned, Starlex heard footsteps hurrying from the room, then the door slammed, and a metal bolt slid with a clang of grim finality.