The Glass Arrow(41)

“Lily,” the Pip begins. I lower my gaze to her knees, thinking there’s still time to kick her as she walks by. There’s a proud smile on her face as she removes her left earring to identify that she’s a pending sale.

“Daisy.” A girl with black hair that reminds me nothing of a daisy steps forward, also to my right. She takes out her earring.

“Lupin. Rose. Lotus.”

I slouch back, trying not to smirk as the Pip calls more names. Nine names. Ten. I’m staring absently forward now, bored at these proceedings. I’m thinking about getting that dreaded metal bracelet back on so that I can return to solitary. Maybe I didn’t escape, but at least I’ll get to play with Brax tonight. When I tell him about the auction I’ll have to leave out the part about the wolf cape. He’d hate that.

I make a note to grab the broken knife handle. I’ll need that in the Black Lanes for certain. Ugly as the prospect of going to Mercer is, it’s better than an unknown future deep in the heart of the city.

“Clover.”

The sound of this word shatters the busy thoughts in my mind.

“Last but not least, Clover!” sings the Governess triumphantly. She’s almost skipping towards me now. I take a step back, not forwards. The room seems to be getting smaller, and I’m filled with an urge to run.

“What?” I ask weakly.

“You’ve got a very interested buyer, dear,” says the Governess.

“I … I do?” My voice sounds so small. My chest is rising now. Rising and falling, but how? I can barely find enough oxygen to breathe. Everyone in the room is gaping at me. If our spots were switched, I’d probably be doing the same thing.

“Step forward,” she says, more firmly this time.

“No.…”

“Step forward!” she shouts with a flash of teeth.

My legs move me forward. I feel like they’ve betrayed me.

“Take off your left earring,” she commands. When I don’t move she snatches it and jerks it free. It stings, but I don’t even struggle.

Her pleasant expression returns. “This way! Off to the entertainment parlor!”

In complete shock, I stumble from the room, deaf to the gossiping whispers of my peers, one thought resounding in my head: What have I done?





CHAPTER 10

THE WATCHER HAS TO shove me into the entertainment parlor. I nearly trip as I pass through the heavy wooden threshold; the thick bear rug makes my stance uneven, and the roaring fire in the stone hearth at the back of the room is much too warm. I can feel the sweat already dewing on my brow, sliding down between my shoulder blades.

I scan the room. The Governess is introducing the chosen girls to their prospective buyers. I see a girl named Rosebud fake a shy blush and look to the floor. Lily has already begun to hum softly, working her songbird angle. Another girl I don’t know is spinning in slow circles before a man in a charcoal suit. He puffs on a cigar and takes out a messagebox to type something.

Too quickly, the Governess motions me to the far left corner of the room. I pass one of the new girls from last month. She is being interviewed by the assistant of a Magnate, who is asking about her measurements and any food allergies she might have.

I wipe my damp palms on my sides. I can feel the Watcher behind me. There’s no chance of breaking out the door.

I freeze when I recognize the man with the maroon scarf wrapped around his face. It covers his hair and everything below his nose, leaving only a thin line where his judging brown eyes are exposed. His hands are tucked loosely in the pockets of his blue pinstriped suit, and as my gaze lowers to the floor, I see the boy from the candy store playing with a remote-control horse. When he presses a button, it whinnies.

The man’s head tilts up, and his eyes lock on the Governess.

“Azalea. So nice to see you.”

I’ve never heard the Governess addressed by a name. It strikes me that it’s a flower, that she was once a resident here. I don’t know why that surprises me; most women in the city have been. I guess it’s because she’s so independent. I figured she must have gotten in early with her buyer, made him happy, and then earned her freedom as soon as she got old and ugly.

“Clover, dear, this is Mr. Greer.” There’s no mistaking the tremble in her voice. She fixes a smile on her face. “And this is precious little Amir Ryker. You may recall, Clover, that Mr. Ryker is the mayor of Glasscaster.”

“A little young to be the mayor,” I manage, trying to swallow down the sickness that comes with this understanding: My plan has completely backfired.

The Governess’s lips twitch. “You have such a sense of humor!” she laughs. “Mr. Ryker is Amir’s father! Amir is the son of the mayor.”

I must have the worst luck in the history of the world to have attracted the attention of the most powerful man in Glasscaster. I can already see the layers and layers of protection surrounding his house; a prison of guards and alarms and fancy things.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two be. Please do not hesitate to wave if you need anything, Mr. Greer.” She flounces off across the room to check on the other couples, but it’s obvious she’s still glancing this way.

It’s the craziest thing, but I almost wish she’d come back.

“You’re funny,” says Amir, standing up. His mouth still bears the red traces of his cherry sucker. He kicks the horse aside. I can’t help but feel a surge of resentment that he’s not treating an expensive toy with more care.