Page 7 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Dalia

Ikick and scream when I realize where they’re taking me.

Their hands dig into my arms, forcing me forward and dragging me when I refuse to stand up and walk with them. As soon as the guards gave me over to them, I knew that I wouldn’t be returning to that cellar. To Caitlin.

My stomach turns. What will happen to her now that I won’t be around to protect her? Surely they’ll drag her out of that cell and throw her into the den of vipers just as sickly as I’d left her.

A rough hand grabs my hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me down onto a stone slab that is cold against my cheek. My heart pounds and I try to wiggle out of their grasp but another set of hands comes down to rest on my back, pressing me flush against the stone.

I let out a desperate cry even though I know no one will hear me. And even if they do, it isn’t like someone will bother rescuing me. I’m a lowly slave, meant to be seen and not heard. I’m only as good as how many customers my body attracts.

Though now that I’ve gotten into trouble, it won’t matter anyway.

Offending a dark elf shouldn’t be that easy, but they really make it such child’s play. All I did was spit on the Viscount after he slapped me hard enough to see stars because I hadn’t knelt down in front of him when I should’ve.

I hate dark elves.

I jump when a booming voice carries across the yard. All three slaves around me freeze as well.

“C-Can we help you, sir?”

I try to turn my head to see who’s interrupted my execution, but I’m held firmly in place.

“I’m curious,” the voice says. “What is the price for her?”

There’s a long pause where no one speaks. I can’t tell if the slaves above me are exchanging looks or quiet words with each other, but their hands tighten around me all the same.

“Sorry, sir.” One of the slaves finally speaks. “But she’s not for sale—”

“I didn’t ask you if she was for sale.” The voice interrupts immediately. “I asked what her price was.”

“For a… night?”

“No.”

I blink in confusion. Was this man trying to buy me?

There’s another long pause, one that I definitely know means the slaves are exchanging confused looks. I’m also confused. I don’t recognize this man’s voice, nor do I remember running into any of the House’s patrons before being dragged off to meet the Viscount.

Maybe this is one of his guards?

The sound of something hitting the ground near the stone slab—like a bag full of coins—catches my attention.

He really is trying to buy me.

A pair of hands leaves me, allowing me to breathe better, while whatever he threw at us is picked up. The coins inside rustle slightly while the slave holding it parts the strings holding it together.

“Your… this is a lot for her—”

“Then it shall be enough for your House to let her go.”

My heart thumps in my chest.

I’m forced off of the stone slab and shoved in the direction of the voice. I stumble, my knees hitting the ground before I can completely collapse on my face. I press my hands into the cool grass and lift my head, spotting shiny black boots in front of me.

Slowly, I work my way up to the man’s face.

He’s a dark elf with short black hair that reaches his shoulders and a classically handsome face that I can’t help but admire. He wears a tailored outfit with the collar of it parted where his neck is, revealing a piece of a dark tattoo that is hidden underneath the rest of his clothing.

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