“Maldita sea3,” I hiss when she trips, causing the harness to pull on my raw skin with added weight.
“Sorry, Estela,” she whispers. I take a deep breath. It’s a small slip-up. Not enough to cause any problems, yet I still glance back at the bundled-up redhead to make sure that her chain hasn’t come undone. My body protests at the change of position, and I haunch forward to take some of the pressure off my lower back.
“Ho! Form a straight line!” the prince calls, whipping the ground as we shift position.
My nerves are tightly bunched inside of me. Our cart is first, and the giants hang back, watching the others as they move into formation. The first lick of mist against my face burns. The legends of this place say that there is a tunnel about twenty-four paces in.
My counting starts up again. I tap my harness three times, knowing that the small vibrations will go to all of the others through the taut leather. Sergi, the fourth slave with us, grunts with the added weight.
When I’d bribed him, he laughed at us and called uscapullos—idiots. But promised his silence through mouthfuls of food.
Miki removes himself while the gauzy haze wraps around us completely. He’s silent for his size, and he slinks back to wait for the third cart—the one with a wheel I’d been making notches in every night.
The cart is heavier without my brother, not to mention I can only see a few paces in front of me, and my heart pounds.You’re almost there, keep pushing. Mikal is capable. It will be fine.
At step fifteen, I reach back, working to unhook the metal chain from the cart and take the sharpened rock out of my waistband. Slowly, I cut the leather from my harness. The mists absorb much of the sound, and I can hear the giants behind us, even as I try to be quiet.
I think of the oldest human legends from lands far, far away. Before humans were enslaved by giants, we had our own goddess, our own luck.
“Por favor,”4I whisper. It’s barely more than a breath.Mamá, help me find the tunnel.
I hear Arlet work with her chains too. Each step hurts a little less as we get closer and closer to freedom.
Veintiuno, veintidós, veintitrés…5
I stop on the twenty-fourth step and look around in the mist. I can see very little when I hear the crash of the cart. My heart seizes and I jump.
“Stop,” one of the giant warriors calls. “Broken cart!”
Thankfully, I haven’t heard the whip yet.
The remainder of my harness is off in a matter of seconds, and I am overjoyed with the shaggy-haired boy creeping through the mist. Pride fills my chest. I want to hug him, but we need to find the tunnel out.
Just as we start to move away from the cart, Arlet makes a sound. It’s distinct from the princes shouts at the slaves behind us.
Mierda.6
I look back to find her still attached, fighting with her chain. Mikal is already next to her. We can’t talk, but our hands are both working with the chain, trying to figure out why the link got stuck. The metal is cold and my fingers burn.
When I look at her, her face is ruddy, and tears are freezing on my face.
“Go,” she whimpers.
My heart hurts. We are so close to freedom. I don’t want to leave her behind. I feel the ground shake closer to us.
I instinctively know that Prince Keksej is coming. I don’t know what to do. The tunnel’s location is still a mystery, and we are standing around without chains or the harnesses.
“Estela, get back into place,” Mikal says.
The sound of steps are getting louder, despite the mist. They echo off the walls of ice around us.
Mikal gets back into his place pulling the cart while Sergi starts laughing. I am frozen, not wanting to accept failure.
“Estela, please,” Arlet says, her voice raw.
I take a breath while I try to put back on my harness. My fingers, numb and red from the cold, refuse to work as I fumble with the ropes and leather.
A whip cuts through the mists and cracks against the snow. I flinch hard. My prayers are dead—my mother is not watching over me.