The Glass Arrow(51)

“You must be one of my new acquisitions.”

I startle and spin. Before me stands a slender man with a square jaw and a narrow mouth. He’s older than his dark, slick hair and smooth skin might suggest; I see it in his eyes, which are squinting, even in the soft light, giving the impression he’s one of those people who’s always plotting something.

The mayor. It must be. No one else would refer to me that way.

I glance over the casual black robe he wears, cinched loosely around his waist. It reveals too much of his form beneath. A blush rises in my cheeks.

“I just got here.” I don’t know why, but I can’t meet his gaze. I feel it, though, searing through me.

“Well then. Welcome,” he says coolly. “You’re finding your room comfortable, I trust.”

Hard to remember, being as I was passed out and paralyzed most of the night.

“It’s all right,” I say. It’s strange, thinking I have my own room. I’ve never had my own room before. Even in the mountains I shared a tent with the family and a cot with Nina.

He’s closer than I like, or maybe the hallway is too narrow. Either way, I’m too crowded.

“Such an interesting face.” He lifts his cold hand and touches my cheek. There’s something about him that makes me feel small.

I turn away. “So you’re the mayor, I guess.”

“I guess.” He smiles. Perfect, white teeth.

“Amir’s father.”

“Ah.” He seems to realize how I’ve come to his home now. “You must be the girl who barks like a dog.”

He gestures down the hall, and I find myself falling into step beside him.

“My son was quite taken by you.” His lake-blue eyes sparkle, and it occurs to me Amir doesn’t look much like him. “Some might think it’s extravagant to purchase a girl for a child.”

“Thought crossed my mind,” I say, trying to sound smart, like him. “But who am I to judge? If you want to spoil your kids, that’s your business.”

“You are wild, indeed,” he says. “I’m almost regretting not attending the auction myself. We might have fought over you.”

I close my mouth. A shadow of regret passes over his face, and he grows quiet, clearly thinking of something. I don’t interrupt him.

“There is only one,” he continues after a while. “Just Amir.” He sighs. “Maybe I do spoil him.”

The hall has opened to a large room, ripe with exotic perfumes and soft music, walled by mirrors on all sides. Strewn across the floor are fancy pillows of all different colors, and atop them a dozen or more girls are lounging. When they see us, they squeal and jump to their feet, a flurry of textiles and patterns, and crowd around the mayor.

I’m surprised he has only one kid. From the looks of things, he’s not spending too many nights sleeping alone.

A girl who looks a little like Straw Hair with her yellow locks pushes to the front. She’s not much older than me and is stroking her flat stomach as if she’s just eaten a huge meal.

“It’s a boy, Mayor,” she says. “It’s a boy. I know it. I feel it.”

“Wonderful,” he says, with barely a second glance.

She is pushed aside by a girl with long gold earrings and skin that’s been painted to match. I think I recognize her from my first week at the Garden, but she wasn’t such an odd color then.

“Mayor, there’s something I’d like to show you,” she says in a sultry voice.

But he points to a girl standing near the back. One who looks no more than twelve or thirteen years old, who hasn’t grown into her body yet. She’s picking at her fingernails.

“You,” he says. “Join me for a walk, won’t you?”

She gives a little nod and takes his hand.

It’s sickening. She looks like a child beside him. She is a child.

“Figures,” one of them whispers. “Of course he’d take the carrot.”

“The what?” I ask.

“Her father just traded her last week,” says the girl with gold skin. “Part of some big business deal. He got the mayor’s attention by dangling a carrot out in front of his face. Get used to it. Happens all the time.”

Disappointed, the other girls return to the floor to laze about.

“Enjoy your stay with us,” the mayor says to me on the way out. “You are indeed a fine prize for my son.”

I am speechless.





CHAPTER 13

THE CATS WAIT TO pounce until the mayor’s footsteps have gone silent.

“What’s that smell?” asks one of them, a girl with a purple streak in her hair.

“I think it’s fresh meat,” says another with an intricate pattern of tattoos winding up her arms. “Yes, definitely fresh meat.” She wafts a hand in front of her face to clear the air.

I catch my reflection in one of the wall mirrors. My curly black hair is messy from sleep, and my eye makeup is smeared a bit. My white dress is wrinkled. It looks like I’ve just rolled out of bed, though not in the way they’re thinking.

“How’d you like me to break your nose?” I ask Tattoos.

Her little smile flips upside down as she scoots back to make room for me.

“You must be new to the city,” says Purple Hair. “I remember when my brother brought me from my little waste of a town in the outliers.…” She forces a laugh. “If he hadn’t tricked me and told me we were going to the fair in Anders, I would have scratched his eyes out. Traitor.”