3

Heads turned towards the man who had spoken. He sat near the edge of the room, his expression thoughtful as he studied the flame that had only moments ago hovered above my finger.

The auctioneer’s grin sharpened. “Fifteen hundred!” he declared loudly. “An impressive bid indeed.”

The room went quiet again, and I found myself searching the crowd for silver eyes.When I finally spotted him, he still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t spoken. He just stood in the shadows, watching.

The auctioneer lifted the gavel slightly. “Fifteen hundred going once…” he paused, “going tw—”

“Two thousand.” The man in the shadows spoke, his voice easily cutting through the room. Every head turned, and this time…he stepped forward. The auctioneer slammed his gavel. “Sold! To the gentleman in the back.” A satisfied smile stretched across his face. “Redakai Laraque.”

The name moved through the room in hushed murmurs. Some men quieted, while others suddenly found reasons to look away. Though subtle, I noticed. Whoever Redakai Laraque was in this city…he carried weight.

As we stepped outside, I recognized that night had settled over New Orleans, signifying hours had passed since we’d been captured, chained, and shoved into a mildewy smelling wagon that had transported us to the auction house. 

Gas lamps now burned along the streets, their glow sliding across puddles and cobblestone. Brick walls had become slick with rain, and in the distance, a melancholy tune drifted through the dark.

A carriage waited at the curb. Black, polished and expensive enough that even I could recognize it.

Two large horses stamped impatiently in their harnesses, steam curling faintly from their nostrils in the humid air as Redakai stopped beside the open door. Only then did his gaze drop to the iron locked around my wrists.

His expression didn’t change, but something in the way his jaw tightened made the guard standing nearby suddenly straighten.

“Key,” he ordered. The word wasn’t loud. It hadn’t needed to be.

The guard hurried forward, fumbling into his coat before producing a small brass key. His hands shook slightly as he stepped closer.

The metal scraped as the key slid into the lock and the shackles fell away from my wrists, and for a moment, I simply stared at the red marks circling my skin as the guard also undid Aunt Javaleens.

Redakai’s gaze flicked briefly to the bruising at my wrists and something cold passed through his expression before he quietly said, “Get in.”

I climbed into the carriage, the leather seat dipping softly beneath my weight. The surface was smooth and cool against my palms as I steadied myself.

Aunt Javaleen climbed in beside me, gathering her skirt before sitting. Her back remained straight, her face composed in the same quiet control she’d worn through the entire auction. She hadn’t spoken since the gavel fell, but her eyes moved constantly, watching me, Redakai…everything.

Redakai stepped in last, the door shutting behind him with a heavy thud and outside, the driver snapped the reins. The carriage lurched forward and for several minutes no one spoke as the wheels rattled over uneven cobblestone while gas lamps slid past the windows in long streaks. 

The streets of the Quarter drifted by in flashes of life: laughter spilling from a tavern door, a woman calling after someone in the dark, the distant sound of a fiddle fighting against the night air.

I rubbed my wrists slowly, trying to bring feeling back into my fingers. Across from me, Redakai watched, not openly…but still yet…watching.

“You’re staring,” I muttered.

His gaze didn’t move. “You’re bleeding,” he replied calmly.

I glanced down, seeing thin red lines where the shackles had cut into my skin. I shrugged. “I’ve had worse,” I told him.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “That should not have happened.”

I huffed softly. “It was an auction house. Cruelty is part of the business model.”

The carriage turned sharply onto a quieter street and Redakai leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the seat beside him. Even sitting still he carried the same controlled authority I’d felt the moment he spoke in that room.

My gaze drifted toward the window.“Where are we going?”

“To my home.” That answer didn’t reassure me.

“Comforting,” I muttered.

He studied me for a moment. “You prefer the auction house?”

I shot him a look. “That depends.”

He raised an eyebrow. “On what?”

I leaned back against the seat. “On what you plan to do with me.”

For the first time since I met him, something faintly amused flickered in his silver eyes.

“Nothing,” he said.

The word settled strangely in the carriage. “Nothing?” I repeated.

He nodded once. “Yes.”

I crossed my arms. “That seems unlikely.”

I glanced toward Javaleen. She sat beside me with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture calm but her mouth set in a tight line.

Though she wasn’t my aunt by blood, she had raised me, protected me, and now she had been sold along with me like a piece of furniture.

Her eyes met mine briefly and she gave the smallest nod. Stand straight. Don’t show fear.

The carriage slowed and I glanced out the window. Iron gates rose from the darkness ahead of us, tall and elegant, their black bars twisting into ornate patterns that glimmered under lantern light. The gates swung open as we approached and beyond them, a long drive curved through towering oaks.

Redakai’s gaze drifted toward the estate ahead. “You are here,” he said quietly, “because I chose to bring you here.”

The carriage rolled forward through the gates. “And that,” he finished calmly,

“is the only reason that matters tonight.”

The house appeared slowly through the trees. Stone, tall, and old. Lanterns burned along the wide front steps, their light flickering across tall windows and dark balconies that curved along the upper floors.

As the carriage rolled to a stop, the driver jumped down, opening the door. Redakai stepped out first, then turned and extended a gloved hand toward me.

I hesitated. An hour ago I had stood in chains, now a man with silver eyes was helping me from a carriage like we were arriving at some polite social call.

I took his hand, feeling his steady grip as he helped me down. Behind me, Aunt Javaleen stepped down from the carriage as well, and when I glanced back, she gave another small nod. The same one she used when I was a child and about to do something difficult.

Stand straight. Don’t show fear.

Up close the manor felt even larger. The front doors alone were tall enough to make the auction house look small. “You live here alone?” I asked.

His mouth curved faintly. “No.”