Page 41 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

The links grated against one another with a grudge. I got under the blanket to try to muffle the sounds. Beads of sweat trickled down my face and neck.

"Got you," I murmured triumphantly as the chain gave way, a feeble link snapping under the pressure of my determined fingers.

With a swift movement, my hands were free. Well, not free. I still had the original cuffs, but my wrists were no longer attached to the longer chain keeping me on the bed.

I set about unshackling my ankles with the broken piece of chain—my makeshift pick for the ancient-looking padlock they'd used.

When I got the second shackle off my ankle, I rose. Adrenaline fueled me, pushing me to the door on unsteady legs.

My bare feet padded across the floor, soundless as snowfall. At the door, I pressed my ear against the cool wood, listening for movement. Silence greeted me.

My fingers traced the door's edge, finding the lock and assessing its make. A simple mechanism, laughably easy for someone who had any knowledge of how a door handle worked.

When the lock clicked open, I pocketed the small broken link in case I needed it again. With a glance over my shoulder at my temporary cell I slowly opened the door.

I felt the explosion of pain across my face before I saw the fist.

Nine

Liam

The weighty atmosphere sat atop Dusthaven like a heavy blanket, trapping the heat and sucking out all the energy. Saxon had warned me the temperature was worse within the city limits, but understanding his words and experiencing it were two very different things.

I was chafed anywhere and everywhere the sweat-soaked fabric rubbed with my movements. It was a small price to pay, more of an annoyance than anything.

How did anyone survive in this inferno? I knew more than just fire fae called this place home, but staying here for any length of time would have been torture for a frost nymph.

I was antsy, having spent the early evening hours planning and securing our exit strategy. Every minute we were here was a minute too long.

Not knowing where Raina was being held prevented us from acting sooner. All we knew was she would be at the auction house sometime after her arrival. I only hoped she hadn't already been auctioned off.

If we didn't find her tonight, our plan was to interrogate anyone involved in the auctions until we knew who'd bought her. Though, Saxon and I had made good time and my gut said she was still here.

We crept through the dark streets, our tread quieted by the soft grime underfoot. Soon, we reached the front of the auction house.

It took up an entire city block, surrounded by iron fencing. I imagined the iron was supposed to be a deterrent but anyone desperate to leave would take the burns to climb out anyway.

The gates, however, were made of some other alloy, and creaked as they opened. Pausing, we waited to be greeted or stopped, either by an employee or a spell.

Nothing happened. No one came.

Apparently, security wasn't important in such a lawless place. You entered at your own risk.

“Do not go berserker in there. I don’t want to have to plug you with my sword if you start killing indiscriminately,” Saxon threatened.

“Your warning isn’t needed. I know better than you what happens when I do.”

“Fair enough.”

We crossed the small courtyard, lit by flickering torches, and strode uninhibited to the door. Only then were we met by someone on staff.

A uniformed male, with sunken eyes and colorless skin, opened the door at our approach. He bowed and motioned for us to enter. Not once did he speak or make eye contact.

Inside, the scene was worse than I had imagined. Fae lanterns illuminated a disorderly scene, beings pushing and shoving towards the stage.

A stringy-haired auctioneer, dressed in the same bright red tunic and pants as the doorman, sat on a raised platform. His large paunch rested on his lap, greed and excitement evident in his sapphire eyes.

On the stage, and to the side of it, terrified victims huddled together, their sobs and pleas falling on deaf ears.

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