SOLD TO THE SHADOW FAE

I knew from the instant that Fae appeared in the tavern that I was doomed.

The door slammed shut with a hard thud, not a creak but a forceful and insistent thud. Every head at Stone’s Throw turned to the entrance. Two figures stood in silhouette, their backs to the fading light of day.

It was like they were moving in a wrongness, too much grace, too much fluidity, like water, not like flesh.

The woman moved first. Her gown was a shimmer of ink-black midnight, and her hair absorbed the final rays of the sunbeam. Beautiful wasn’t the right word. I felt a sense of otherworldliness about her, of perfection that made my stomach turn with a primal fear.

The man sitting next to her was even worse. His hair was silver, and his skin glowed as if it were infused with a pale light. His eyes were like ice. And he was bored. Dangerously bored.

Fae

The tavern became silent. Drinking vessels were suspended in mid-air above open mouths. Cards were stuck in mid-deal.

"Elara Ashwood," the woman said. Her voice was ringing with bells, beautiful and terrible. She was not asking.

I felt numbness creep into my hands. The tray flew out of my hands and hit the floor with a clatter. "I. yes. That's me."

Everyone’s gaze was on me. I saw pity in some faces. And relief in others, as if to say, “Thank the gods it’s not me.”

The smile was a cat's smile, circling, patiently waiting. “Your father was Marcus Ashwood?”

"He died three months ago," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite how I felt. “Whatever he owed, I can’t…”

“Twelve thousand, four hundred and sixty-three gold pieces.” The man’s voice was cold, clipped. “Do you have it?”

The figure hit me like a punch to the gut. Twelve thousand? That was more money than I'd see in ten lifetimes.

“That’s impossible,” I whispered. “My father was a carpenter. We barely had enough to eat.”

"Not our concern." The woman shrugged. "The debt is still there. Blood calls to blood. Now it's yours."

"I don't have twelve thousand copper, much less gold!"

"Then you'll pay in another way." The man's gaze swept over me as if I were livestock. "Auction. Tonight. You'll be sold to the highest bidder."

The word didn't register. "Sold? Like... property?"

"Exactly."

"I'm a person!" My voice cracked as I looked around in desperation. "Tell them! You all know me!"

Brennan turned his gaze away. The farmers focused on their drinks, avoiding eye contact.

"Please," I whispered. "Someone help me."

"They won't intervene." The man sounded almost disinterested. "Blood contracts override human law. Any interference comes with consequences."

"I won't go. You can't force me..."

The woman raised a single elegant finger.

Pain erupted throughout my body, as if my blood were boiling and my bones breaking. I crumpled to the tavern floor, convulsing, unable even to scream.

"Blood contract, clause seventeen," her voice drifted above