Sold

5: Home

The Draconian's estate is larger than Fexen's.

His mansion is dark, unkempt, made with some sort of hard stone, and devoid of any fountains or decorations. It sits on the edge of a rocky stream, encompassed by forest and nestled between mountains. Despite how brooding the estate looks, the area around it is gorgeous.

I look back up at him. He runs his hand up his forehead and through his hair - his brow tense with frustration - before looking down at me.

I'm not sure how to feel. Through some strange sequence of events, I now belong to this man. It doesn't look like he knows how to feel about it either; his expression is impossible to read and his conversation with Fexen seemed confusing.

Who buys a slave for someone else as a gift - especially when that person never wanted to own a slave in the first place - and just drops them off on their doorstep and leaves?

The Draconian waves his hand in the air, turns, and walks toward the mansion. I look toward the forest and wonder how far I would make it with my shackles. This person doesn't want me. Would he try to stop me from escaping? While his back is turned, I make my way toward the forest as quickly as my shackled feet will move.

I make it almost to the trees and my body slaps against something invisible. I press around, trying to move around it, but can't. I look back toward the Draconian. His lips part and his eyebrows inch upward, but he doesn't say anything. He turns toward the house and disappears through the front door. I look back at the forest for a moment before following him.

By the time I get inside, he's already disappeared through the halls.

I wander around the unfamiliar mansion - eyes tracing the smooth black stone walls lined with veins of glowing running water - unsure what I should be doing and where I should be going. My bare feet press into the smooth white stone flooring like I'm walking on soft sand.

All of these materials feel foreign; why is water running down the walls and how is it recirculating? And why is stone as soft and malleable as moist ground? How can there also be some kind of invisible barrier preventing me from leaving the yard of the house?

I pass by several doors - all locked - and wander through hallways until I decide to sit against a wall and nap. Just like my village home, I feel like every path is blocked for me. I have no choices except the ones other people make for me. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees, and cry myself to sleep.

*******************

"Get up." A voice stirs me awake. I look up and see Mexynn looming over me with a cold expression etched across his sharp features. His eyes linger on mine - I wonder if my eyes look as red and irritated as they feel - before he gestures for me to stand.

"Follow me." He turns and walks down the hall. I struggle to stand with my shackles on and Mexynn snaps his fingers. My shackles disappear.

I hold back a gasp. There is no logical explanation for why the shackles vanished. There is no logical explanation for the walls, floors, or barrier around the house, either. My memories flicker back to the snippets I heard of the Draconians, to the children's tales I'd imagined weren't even close to realistic: The rumor that they have the gift of magick.

My eyes trickle across Mexynn's figure as I follow him down the hall, searching for any tangible appearance-wise proof that would suggest he has the ability to use magick. I want something to confirm what I've just seen - so I know my eyes weren't deceiving me after all of the recent stress - but he looks exactly what I'd assume a normal Draconian would look like.

He stops in front of one of the doors and opens it, beckoning for me to step in. I'm met by a grandiose bedroom with lavender walls and black flooring and bedding. There is little furniture besides a dresser and a mirror, and a small open door leading to a bathroom. Despite how vacant the room feels, it is well maintained and emanates an atmosphere of finery.

"This is your room." Mexynn shifts his posture from one foot to the other, glancing around warily. "You'll...address me as your 'Master' and do what I ask."

"O-okay." I dip into an awkward curtsy. Nothing like slavery - nothing remotely similar to it - happened back in my village. No one belonged to anyone else, no one was trapped serving anyone else, and no one...

I hesitate. I suppose I was serving my father and Meben. I guess I was trapped there, too. Was life in my village truly no better than being a slave?

"Thank you, Master Mexynn." The words tumble gracelessly from my lips. If there was one thing different between being enslaved to a life abiding by my father and Meben, it was the fact that I'd never had to call them an embarrassing term like "Master." My face flushes. Something about the word feels...different.

"Master Synn." He corrects.

"Thank you, Master Synn." I repeat, feeling that odd fuzzy feeling creep back to my cheeks. I tell myself that, at the very least, the last thing I was to do is get on the bad side of a magick wielding Draconian.

"Stay here at all times. Do not go anywhere or try to explore the house. I will bring food to you. Understood?" He rubs his fingers against his cheek. My brow clenches but I nod. He's going to keep me locked in this single room? Forever?

Master Synn steps out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him. I close my eyes and exhale, looking back at the area. A bed, a bathroom, and a dresser. How am I supposed to stay entertained here? 

Walking to the dresser, I tug open the drawers. Empty. 

I head to the bathroom and open the drawers there. Also empty. Just like the room, like the faces of all of the other slaves, and like the rest of my life will be.

Collapsing onto my knees in the center of the bathroom, I raise my palms to my face as tears spill down my cheeks.