Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 58: 57. The Fourth Slave

Read chapter 58 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Abigail, 24 years old, formerly of the Lotus Valley Foxkin tribe. Now, I am a slave in service to Lord Griswald, and lover to Captain Gavin Cromwell. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/79098c3c-a8aa-46ee-a480-e2bf09553ec1 Wagon wheels clatter against cobblestone, joining the rhythmic symphony of iron horseshoes. For miles, our mobile prison has rattled and jolted, the hard wooden bench beneath me biting into my skin and aching against my spine. The air inside our cell is stale, dust clinging to every breath, yet still preferable to the foul stench of the unwashed Arcadian mercenary in the driver’s seat. My Lord Gavin has always been mindful of my sensitive nose, never coming near when he feared his musk might offend. I miss him. The thought presses against my chest as I lean back against the cage wall and sigh, my ears drooping with the weight of it, the ache in my heart deeper than the soreness in my bones. Light filters in through the slats of the slave wagon, casting angled strips of clarity across my three rabbitkin cellmates. One has blotchy white-spotted fur, another a golden orange, and the last a regal grey, but all wear the same fearful expression. Like them, I wear nothing but a meager length of coarse fabric, a rough tunic with a hole cut for the head, draped over the shoulders and tied loosely at the waist. The standard slave garment does nothing to protect against the cold and even less to preserve one’s dignity. Watching the grey-furred girl sit straight-backed, determined to face her impending doom with grace, reminds me a great deal of myself the first time I was sold into slavery. I had been a coward. When the humans came, I ran while the rest of the Lotus Valley tribe stayed and fought. They died with claws bared, defending our home. I did what I’ve always done best—I ran and hid. For years, I survived alone in the monster-infested depths of the Erwin Forest, using my illusion magic to stay one step ahead of death. I could have kept going, I think. Could have continued clawing for scraps, sleeping with one eye open and praying each night not to end up in a predator’s belly. But every day was a slow, suffocating struggle, like someone buried alive, scraping at their coffin’s lid. Eventually, it all felt meaningless. Everyone I had ever known or loved was already gone. What was the point of surviving, when I had nothing left to survive for? So I decided to face my fate, straight-backed and on my own terms. I put myself in the path of slavers. It was a coin flip, really, deciding which kind of beast I’d let devour me. Monsters or men. Both would tear me apart in their own way. But by choosing, I got to pretend I still had some control. Just a little illusion to comfort myself. Fitting, I suppose. Illusions have always been my specialty—even the ones I craft for myself. I imagine that’s the same lie Miss Grey is clinging to now, sitting stiff and proud across from me while her companions quietly fall apart. Tears stream down the orange-furred rabbitkin’s cheeks, and the spotted one trembles with muffled sobs. These three poor souls were purchased from one of Lord Ambrose’s brothels in the capital. Though their lives there were surely filled with suffering, at least they knew that, as valuable merchandise, they would be properly fed and kept free from injury. Ambrose may be a monster among monsters, but he doesn’t tolerate customers damaging his wares. Their dread is warranted, because they’ve been sold to the Cromwell family. I’m sure they’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has. Lord Cromwell is known for his high turnover of slaves. He only buys women, and it’s whispered that he uses and discards them in the cruelest of ways. His estate is where many a slave’s journey ends. Being purchased by him is as good as a death sentence. That fact concerns me, too, but it didn’t stop me from using my magic to sneak into this wagon. I gave the driver an illusion of the broker explaining I was a bonu