More eyes on me. I clench my jaw and give a nod just as my stomach grumbles.
They glare, equal parts angry and weary. Then the attention is taken away, and the butts of spears shove men forward.
“Move, mangy rats, or I’ll peel the skin from your balls,” one of the guards shouts.
The others follow without resistance.
One by one, we approach to take our tools. When I pick up an ax, I look at the dull blade and hold it toward Eneko.
“Foreman,” I say, and Eneko raises an eyebrow. “Do you need me to sharpen this?”
He lets out a laugh. “Why would you need a sharpened ax?”
“To cut trees.”
He shakes his head. “Fucking halfblood, know your place. You’d sooner cut one of us with such a weapon. Now join the others before I regret bringing you into my region.”
I bite my lips and fall into line next to a few slaves. The one directly at my left, two heads shorter than me, glares. His deep brown skin is rough and spotted from the sun, but his black eyes are backlit by flames.
“The Foreman seems to like you,” he says.
I raise my eyebrow. “He seems to like my height.”
The stranger doesn't like that answer. I can feel the displeasure radiate off him.
“You look well-fed. Where did you come from?”
“They call me Ra’Sa. I come from the northwestern yards.”
The man continues to stare rather rudely. “I’ve heard some of the slaves talking about that area. They had even more poisonings than us. Makes no sense that you would have so much meat on your bones.”
Damn. I genuinely don't know what to say to that.
“I am good at scavenging.”
He scoffs. “Likely story. Watch yourself.”
I pause. “Why would I need to do that?”
“We don’t take kindly to halfling bastards.” He pushes away from me, and I walk alone once more.
Chapter 17
MELISA
Once properly bathed, I open the wardrobe—the largest piece of furniture in my entire room—and look at the excess of red and white.
Dozens of gowns, jeweled headpieces, and nighties are hung up on plain metal hooks. While the red colors are all rich in hue, the texture of the heavy cotton fabric is scratchier than the silky dresses that I wear to parties.
I despise this wardrobe for the long gowns, heavy underskirts, and thick stockings.
For a few days, I was free from breast-busting wraps that restrict my breathing. In Enduvida, they wear soft leather clothing and I even tried pants—gods, I miss the pants and practical shoes. The boots that line the bottom of my wardrobe have small, thin heels at the end to make me that much taller.
It's a pitiful attempt to breach the difference in size, but the giants still try.
My hand brushes over the dresses. I chose this color when my first dresses had been ordered.
Red.