❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
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7 YEARS AGO MERCIA
"Pick up the pace, girl!"
A harsh hand on Calliope's bruised shoulder jolted her forwards as she walked along the cobblestone path caked with dried mud from the previous week's stormy weather.
The town of Calchester in Northern Mercia wasn't a dream destination for anyone. The stench of body odor and horse manure floated through the damp air as Calliope moved through the overcrowded streets. The loud clucking of chickens hurt her sensitive ears. She turned her head to the annoying noise, watching as a man exchanged his chickens for pieces of silver.
After spending the last few weeks chained in a dark cave, the bright sunlight and constant commotion of the day created a raging pounding in Calliope's already aching head. Her eyes darted to the other side of her, lurking on the man holding a sharp whip in his right hand. Even though Calliope was only eleven years old, she knew he was a man who forced people into slavery; selling them at auctions to rich men who saw slaves and servants as nothing more than animals. He had captured her about six months ago when she tried to steal food from him, which ended in his whip colliding with her back too many times to count.
Calliope kept her head held high; her back straight. The other women and children walking with her had their shoulders hunched, trying to hide the deep scars on their faces, but not Calliope. She wore her scars proudly as if saying, "I can survive anything."
What kept Calliope going was the thought that her mother was still out there somewhere. She knew her mother was alive. She could feel it.
And one day, she's going to escape and rescue her.
Standing at the edge of a staircase that led up to the auction stage made Calliope's heart pound in fear of what cruel man would be buying her that day. Her eyes scanned the audience as rich men from all over reached into their satchels, ready to see who their next slave will be. The auctioneer motioned for the first woman in Calliope's group to step forward, separating her from her crying daughter around Calliope's age.
"Don't let them see your tears," Calliope whispers as she stands behind the girl.
The girl's mother sold to an old fat man with a long beard for thirty gold pieces. Her daughter was next, selling to a different fat man for twenty gold pieces.
Were all rich men fat? They seemed to be. Maybe it was because they never did anything except sit on their expensive couches and let their slaves do everything for them.
"You're next," Calliope's captor said with a scowl. "I'll be lucky to get ten gold pieces for a little bitch like you."
Calliope kept eye contact with him, gathering saliva in her mouth and spitting it right in his face. With an angry yell, the back of his hand made contact with her cheek, but she did not fall or let her eyes tear up from the sudden pain. She turned her head back to him as he pushed her onto the stage.
