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The Great Hunt

Devon Silverfox

    Cinnamon rolls floated in the air and woke me. I could taste them. My feet hit the ground, and I danced for the last time. For weeks, mother dropped everything else to make my dress. Only the best of what we could put together. My cousins had worked hard. They strung seed rubies on a silver chain and made me a circlet. A silver necklace with a tiny heart was my father’s contribution, bought by years of sweat and tears. All the best to increase my sale price.

***


    Tents filled with wonderful foods and exotic toys stretched across the arena. A man juggled fire balls and another hawked potions for every kind of fancy. I lingered, surrounded by the hum of magic in the air. Girls too young to sell ran through the fairgrounds. My lot number, pinned to my shoulder for all to see, flapped in the wind.
    How can they do this? Sell me like chattel? One final hour as a free woman.
    This was the whole reason they had a daughter to begin with. I was their retirement plan. Nausea twisted my stomach, my secret rebellion in the war of my fates. Spiraling high above, reaching for the heavens was the towers of the elite. They were locked safely inside the ivory spiral. They didn’t have to sell their children. I hated them for it.
    The arena where I would spend my last day free stood behind me. A looming specter of the death of all that I could have been. An itching, tingling feeling suffused my arms and legs. Everyone knew ladies didn’t run. With each passing minute, the itching and burning intensified. I could calm things by moving. So, I gave in. I ran.
    Burning and trembling warned me that my body was about to rebel. Each breath rattled and stuck in my bone-dry throat. I hit the wall somewhere back there, and like a marathon runner; had continued to push. I leaned against a table, gulping air as the world pulsed around me. My lot number wasn’t on my shoulder anymore. Somewhere in the path I cut through the festival, trampled into the mud, was my lot card. If only that would free me.
    The tent was dark, lit with the flickering light of candles, not the LED sort they’re supposed to use, but actual candles. I could see the smoke and the soot marks on the heavy canvas. My moves were being followed by a pair of ethereal blue orbs. It was what I imagined staring into the ocean to be like. The man behind the counter slid a delicate saucer my way, the porcelain was painted in beautiful swirls. He smiled as I ate the offered treat.
    I watched the spider tattoo crawl from where it peeked over his collar, up over one deep blue eye and disappearing into his hairline. He watched me watching him and smiled wider, flashing teeth that were a little too sharp.
    “You have my gratitude for a wonderful treat,” I said as I watched his smile fade and his eyes narrow. He pulled my hand close and traced his fingers on my palm as he spoke.
    “We have a problem. The same problem, in fact. I also find myself in need of a spouse before midnight. So, I’m going to give you a choice, little dancer. You can take your chance at the auction, or you can take your chance with me. Either way, you will belong to someone else by moonrise. So, choose,” he said.
    “Society expects—”
    “—I don’t care what your society expects, I didn’t think you did either,” he said, closing his hand over mine even as he interrupted me. “Your strength is why I chose you.”
    I inspected his collection. Graceful dancers spun on blown glass music boxes. “Is this what happens if I say no?”
    “That is what happens,” he says as he holds up a small glass music box. “When you die, if you die.”
    “If? I wasn’t aware death could be an if,” I said.
    “With me it can.”
    “The fae do nothing for free. What do you want? What do I owe you?”
    His eyes glinted, and he turned the key on the music box, letting it play its dark, soulful music.
    “You owe me only your dreams and desires. I will give you everything you have ever wanted.”
    “I have a duty. I don’t like it. It’s not fair. But if I don’t make sure somehow my parents cared for, no one will.”
    He stood, nodding to himself as he did.
    “Let me handle that, along with everything else,” he slid me another plate from behind the counter. The jellied treat already waiting on swirls of gray and deep blue.
    I knew better but, I ate this one too, sweetness bursting over my tongue. Worry faded as a million different flavors tantalized my taste buds as I heard him in my fogged head.
    “I will take care of everything,” the voice in my head repeated.
    “So, what do you want, little dancer?” he asked, coming around the counter to join me as I walked to the tent exit. His fingers were cool and dry where they met the back of my neck. A spider crawled from his arm and settled on my chest.
    “Freedom, security, safety,” I said, allowing him to hold me back. He pressed his hand in the small of my back guiding me forward as he spoke.
    “Then, welcome home,” we stepped out to a field. Tents stretched to the horizon. Soldiers manning the entrances. The gray and blue spider standards met the gray and blue horizon. “Duchess.”
    I have become the elite.



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