Treacherous Witch

25. Shopping

"My sister, she was torn in two.
My niece, she took her only breath.

Pray, tell, what hope must we eschew

In this new world where birth means death?"

Unknown, Maskamery War Poetry

The next morning, he summoned her for breakfast. She decided that she wouldn't apologise—or talk at all, unless spoken to.

"You're quiet today."

She sipped her tea and said nothing.

"You can express your displeasure with me, but I don't want you to be moody at court."

"As you wish, my lord."

"Fine." He picked up a slip of paper from his silver tea tray, then slid it over to her. "Read it."

She frowned, then put down her tea and picked up the slip of paper. Before the invasion, documents like these would have been stamped with the royal seal. This one was stamped with Lord Avon's seal, a raven, but he hadn't yet signed it. The note was written in spidery handwriting, and she read it in mounting horror.

It was a warrant for Lavinia's arrest. Lavinia, one of her cousins, and mother to twin boys and an eighteen-month old girl.

Avon steepled his fingers together. "I told you after your first transgression to consider that your actions affect others. That I wouldn't come after your family so long as you behaved."

She shook her head, struggling for words. "This is my punishment? I didn't even do anything! The spell didn't work."

"Your assassination attempt didn't work either, but you've still been punished for that. I expect Lavinia's repentance to be passed in under a week, when she will be sent to auction. She'll leave Jairah and never see your family again."

The cold harsh reality of it was beginning to sink in. Lavinia had nothing to do with the resistance. The Crescents had tolerated her anti-Drakonian activities, but none of them were willing to join in. She'd condemned an innocent woman to a terrible fate.

"Auction," she whispered. "You mean...?"

"The fate I saved you from," said Avon. "I expect she'll be taken in as a housekeeper or maid or somesuch."

The first time Valerie had heard about the auction was through her friend Iora early on in her days of joining the resistance. They'd gotten up to see the parade of soldiers returning from the war in the north: Drakonian knights in armour marching with rifles, swords and spears, and the rolling cages of captured prisoners of war on display for the crowds.

"Oh, no," Iora had said softly.

"What?"

Her friend had pointed. "Look. Women."

Sure enough, one of the cages contained female prisoners, all of them either sullen or scared. Valerie had wondered why there were so many. The only Maskamery women who took part in warfare were priestesses. This was long after the purge; there were no priestesses left to fight.

"Maska save them." Iora touched her necklace which had a tiny silvertree emblem. "They'll be going to auction."

"Auction?"

"The Empire likes to enslave its prisoners. They get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. If you're a woman under forty, you'll be forced into bed by some mangy old lord, and if you're over forty you'll end up a cleaner or washer. Or worse, you'll get bought by a brothel."