Rise of the Phoenix

“Get up, girl!” The heavy chains binding my wrists yanked me awake before I could even open my eyes.  Confusion set in. Everything seemed fuzzy. I remembered living in the woods scavenging for berries. It had been lovely. The animals treated me as an old friend. I could sing as loud as I wanted and no one was around to poke fun at me or tell me to shut up. Life was perfect for a time, if not a bit lacking for companionship. I didn’t generally live alone, but from time to time I grew weary of the life I lead and took a vacation. While living in the forest like a hermit was a nice time, it didn’t pay the bills. Thieving did, though, and it just so happened I was quite good at it.  I wish I could say that I did it for noble causes, but honestly I did it because it was easy. One big job and I’d be set for half a year or more. I made enough to support myself and send enough gold back home to my grandmother and sisters. My sisters.  The sobering thought of my younger sisters brought my hazy memory back to life. I had been alone in the woods, or so I thought, when a band of slavers happened upon me. I’d gotten too complacent with my peaceful surroundings.  And, in a nutshell, that’s how I ended up in the cell.  A week in a four by four cell had taken its toll. I no longer heard the shouts and moans from the men in the surrounding cells. My legs dangled uselessly as the guard pulled my arms up above my head. Generally, I tried to scream as little as possible, just to deny them the satisfaction (I’m very contrary when agitated), but as the pain shot through my spine I let out a yelp.  “You’re going to hurt her!” a woman’s voice protested.  I’d never heard her before, but I appreciated the unexpected support all the same.  “If nothing’s broken the dragon- blood in the last week, then nothing will,” the gruff voice protested, spitting at spot where my feet were supposed to land. My feet finally found the floor, and I let out a sigh of relief as the pain from the pinching of the chains faded away.  Fuck dragon-steel. f**k slavers. f**k everything, I thought bitterly. I looked around, noticing for the first time that all the other slaves in the surrounding cells were already gone. My eyes turned to the woman who spoke for me.  She was about my age, tall, thin, and blonde, like most of the people of Beinna. Even as a complete stranger, she looked more like my little sisters than I did, but I was used to that.  My sisters were already taller than me when I left home six years ago, even though I was four years older. I had inherited my mysterious sire’s dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin, and presumptively short stature.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on which day you asked me) he had also left me another legacy; the immortal life of a mythical phoenix.  Not that it was particularly enjoyable to die over and over again, but I’ll admit being constantly reborn from the ashes the next day has its perks. The biggest, of course, is being able to escape any nasty situation with a clean break. As long as my secret was safe, I had an unlimited number of do-overs.  Well, there was one nasty catch to a phoenix’s immortality. Apparently it didn’t work if I offed myself. Believe me, there were several times over the years I would have taken my own life in exchange for a fresh start. Like just about every other aspect of my life, I didn’t know anything with complete certainty, but as a child I noticed that intentionally self-inflicted wounds healed at a human rate.  I know that sounds rather macabre and gloomy, but really it was just typical childhood experimentation. I knew I was different. I never got sick and my cuts and bruises healed suspiciously fast. When I got too angry, linens and dry straw tended to catch fire. So I experimented a little, despite my grandmother’s nonsensical insistence everything was fine and I was perfectly normal given my heritage.  That all changed when I hit puberty and bled for the first time. My grandmother knew enough about dragons to know what to do. She knew to take me to a cave where nothing could catch fire for my first shift. She knew the healing herbs and teas to  My grandmother seemed to be expecting a dragon to emerge, but what she got was a flaming giant orange bird. It was the first time I’d ever seen my grandmother truly rattled.   When we emerged from the cave, everything changed for me. My grandmother stopped sending me to the village school. I couldn’t go to the market alone anymore. There was one particular edict she drilled into me, over and over again, until it became like second nature— Stay away from dragons.  When I ran away from my small village, it had been like stepping out of a cage. My life changed from that moment on; I was one step closer to becoming the person I was supposed to be.  Now, as the guard yanked me to sideways out of my cell sending me flat on my ass on the urine soaked floor, it was hard to feel that same optimism. Still, there was something strange in the air calling to me and making me more anxious than usual.  Now would be a good time for one of those do-overs. “Careful!” the blonde woman shrieked again. “If she gets hurt before the auction, they’ll dock your pay.”  With a grunt, the chains binding my wrist together clamored to the floor. The guard, sufficiently chastised by the woman’s nagging, decided to leave her to her business. I staggered to my feet, not even bothering to straighten my dress out. After a week in that cell, I doubted anything I could do would make it better.  The woman looked me up and down, appraising me, I supposed. “You’re actually very pretty,” she said accusingly, as if it was something I did on purpose. It was just a legacy of the dragon-blood in my veins. “Even under all that filth I can see it.” I would have given her an ironic curtsy if I could stomach touching my piss-soaked dress.  “I’m called Callie,” she chirped. “What’s your name?” “Delia,” I answered. I thought about lying, but then it probably didn’t matter at this point. “Are you really a dragon-blood?” Callie asked in a whisper.  I nodded my head solemnly. My cover story wasn’t actually a lie, of course. I did have a dragon for a grandfather, though he’d died in the never-ending dragon war long before I was even born. It was easy to explain the way I wielded fire from my hands as a legacy of my dragon-blood. Not that I went around advertising it, but when I was threatened, the fire seemed to have a mind of its own.  And that was precisely how I landed myself in my current predicament. When the band of slavers surrounded me, sparks flew out of my hands as I tried to escape. Of course, slavers weren’t apt to let a prize like a lone dragon-blooded girl with no protector slip out of their grasp.  “Curious,” she whispered back. “I should have liked to have seen it.” She eyed my dragon-steel cuffs with disdain. Apparently dragon-steel also worked on phoenixes, which I hadn’t actually known until a week ago. Dragon-steel was insanely expensive, and I’d never been able to get my hands on any to try it out. Convenient for me, because I’m sure some of the village boys who bullied me when I was a child would have loved to torment me with dragon-steel had they been able to afford it.  “Not much to see, really,” I muttered to Callie, leaning back against the wall for support in my weakened state. “Anyways, if you can make my job easier, I can try and make this all come out a little better for you.” Callie leaned in closely, as if trying to determine what my complexion must be like under all the filth. “Why would you help me?” I asked, suspicious of her motives.  Callie shrugged. “I like you. I’ve been watching you, you know. You’re very brave.” My gaze met hers. Her eyes were the same hazel color as my sisters, and I wanted to trust her. “I still don’t understand.” “I can make sure you look pretty up there on the block, and perhaps discourage some of the crueler lords from bidding.” “Why would it matter if I look pretty?” I asked dazedly.  Callie rolled her eyes at me. Through my confusion I started putting the pieces together in my head. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” she asked quietly.  I felt all the color flee from my face. “A-absolutely not!” I stammered. “I can’t be some lord’s bed slave!” “Oh, come now. It beats working in the fields or scrubbing chamber pots. I would know,” she scoffed. “Besides, it’s not like you have much of a choice, do you?” She was right about that last part. I could cause a scene at this slave compound and maybe they’d kill me, or maybe they’d just beat me senseless and throw me in a hole for awhile. Probably best to take my chances elsewhere, though the thought of me being a bed slave was laughable. Lords weren’t typically fond of awkward, clumsy loners, last I checked.  “You’re right,” I sighed in defeat. “I just want to get out of here.” “Perfect,” Callie grinned. “And when you’ve got some lord wrapped around your finger, you’ll remember me, right? Maybe bring me in as your maid?”  I thought she was joking at first, until I realized she wasn’t. Goodness, maybe my new friend was wonky in the head.  “Well, if that happened,” I laughed, “I’d recommend you for the position of Royal Hairdresser to the queen herself.” I had no idea if that was a real position, but I imagined it must be.  “Now don’t sell yourself short. You’re exceptionally pretty. I can imagine you’re so much better looking when you’re not covered in piddle,” Callie snorted. “Now come on. You’ll be needing a bath, er, or perhaps two. Gods, it might take three!” I snorted in spite of myself. Callie had her work cut out for her.  Two hours later, I emerged from a freezing stone bathing chamber wearing what could only be described as two silk dinner napkins sewn into a dress. Callie had poked, prodded, and shaved me everywhere. Mortifying. My hair alone had taken an hour to wash and untangle, but Callie had been persuaded to let me wear it in my typical braid. We did have to compromise on a few other things, though. I was pretty sure there was enough scented oil on me to fry me in a pan. Seriously, I’d seen fish fried in smaller amounts of grease.  Panic rose up in my chest. “Gods, Callie, I can’t wear this,” I shuddered. “I’m practically naked!” “You don’t really have much of a choice, love,” she soothed.  “I mean, you seem to have some pull here. Can’t you tell someone to take this dress and f**k off?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m just a maid here.” “But they trusted you to make sure I don’t escape,” I protested, tugging the dress down as far as it could go. Callie snorted. “More like I’m the only one brave enough to take you on.” “What?”  “They’re afraid of you, dragon-blood.” I paused, taking in her serious expression. Goodness! The slavers were afraid of me? No one had ever been afraid of me before. I’d been living on my own for the last eight years, since I was sixteen. Mysterious? Sure. Fearsome? Absolutely not. I was shorter than most women, and living like a nomad saw to it that I never had much time to gain weight where it mattered.  “Fat lot of good that’s done me,” I huffed. Truthfully, it could be worse. It fact, it had been worse, quite often. I once spent a month being bullied by bandits who sought to use me as a distraction to rob the Beinnian Royal Treasury. I was younger, and didn’t have the command of my powers that I had now. They killed me when I refused, thankfully. How depressing was it that I wasn’t particularly frightened of s****l enslavement? You’d be surprised what your mind could put up with when you know it’s only temporary.  I’m much stronger now, I told myself. That’s why you aren’t scared. You’ll be out of this in no time. I glanced down at the so-called dress and groaned— not my best mental pep talk.  “You look stunning,” Callie shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re upset.” “My t**s could fall out at any moment!” I hissed. Callie flinched when I spoke, but I didn’t feel bad because I was right. The dress, barely a scrap of red silk, was cut so deep it almost reached my navel. The length of the skirt barely covered my ass.  “Oh hush. You’re lucky you aren’t naked. What exactly do you imagine a bed slave wears, anyways?” I grumbled my displeasure as she led me through a series of doors and down a long hallway. The voices were getting louder, punctuated by the occasional shouting and cheering.  Callie looked me over once more and pushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I can see ‘s*x kitten’ is off the table, but you do have that starry-eyed innocent look about you.” “Innocent? Me?” I asked in disbelief. No one had called me innocent in a long time. I had done unspeakable things in order to survive over the years, but I suppose I did look young and green. Gods know I used it to my advantage often enough.  “Don’t worry, I can work with that,” she purred. “Good luck!” Callie winked at me, and I was so distracted by her sudden change in demeanor I didn’t notice a guard had snuck up beside me until it was too late. As the guard hauled me to the auction room, I saw Callie saunter up to the well-dressed auction attendees and greet them with all the charm of a seasoned courtesan. Some girls had all the skills and left none for the rest of us, it seemed. I turned my head to watch her work her magic, but the guard yanked me forward again and I yelped. “Quiet, girl,” he snarled. “Wait here until it’s your turn.” The guard took his place a few feet away from me by the door- waiting to see if I tried anything, most likely. As if I could, with my hands bound in dragon steel with an extra three feet of heavy links dangling for good measure.  I gave him my best “eat s**t” look, but it didn’t seem to phase him. No one else had a personal guard, but given the information Callie had shared with me, it made sense.  The back of the crowded room was filled with girls dressed just like me in napkin-dresses, and partitioned with a curtain to keep us out of view of the purchasers until it was time to bid. The auctioneer stood at the podium, droning on about the rules of the auction. I could see some of the rich assholes waiting for the auction to start through a gap in the curtain, and a few more on the other side of the auctioneer’s stage. I leaned back against the wall and looped the bundle of heavy chains attached to my wrist around my forearms. Probably not the most ladylike of poses, but I was super pissed off. I caught Callie’s eye on the other side of the stage. She made an exaggerated gesture of poking her chest out to demonstrate to me how I should be standing. I shrugged at her, deciding to ignore her and study the other slaves.  Some of the girls had tears in their eyes, some simply looked resigned, but some actually looked excited to be here. I guess if this life was all you knew, it would be easy to get wrapped up in the excitement of the auction. My gaze stopped at a tiny red-haired girl perched next to me, looking sufficiently confounded. She was perhaps the only one in the room shorter than me.  “Who are you?” she whispered quietly. “You weren’t in the holding chambers with us. And why are your hands bound?” I grimaced, not really sure if I should answer her. Her gaze flew to the dragon-steel manacle around my wrists. “Oh my Gods, it’s true!” she whisper-screamed. “There really is a dragon-blood here!” Holding chambers, I frowned inwardly. No wonder I hadn’t seen any other women the entire week; the women weren’t generally kept in the cells. Lucky me. The room was filled with women now. They were all tall, lean, and frankly gorgeous, even though there seemed to be more variety in their ages.  “Delia,” I said quietly. “My name’s Delia.” “I’m Jessa. Oh my Gods, I can’t believe I’m talking to real dragon!” she squealed quietly.  The words made me wince. “Not an actual dragon,” I replied softly.  Dragon-bloods were not the same as dragons, a point I was always making when people learned what I was and tried to coax me into turning into a dragon. Dragon-bloods were born to human mothers and dragon fathers, but they were much faster and stronger than humans— and generally taller and prettier, too. Some of them retained the elemental powers of their ancestors, such as control over fire or ice, but that’s rare. Dragon-bloods were, supposedly, long-lived as well. Although their volatile natures made that a debatable statement. Overall, it was a convenient cover story for me. I could typically blend well with humans, since I wasn’t overly tall, but if they ever saw sparks flying from my fingers or wondered why I was unnaturally strong for such a small person it was easy to explain it away.  “Oh, I know. I just… Wow! This is so amazing! And you don’t seem to be crazy at all!” “Don’t get out much, do you?” I replied sarcastically, instantly regretting my unnecessary cruelty. I’m sure this girl had it bad enough without me running my smart mouth. I wouldn’t even try to dispute the rumor that dragon-bloods were a touch crazy. My own mother had been free-spirited, to put it kindly. Unstable was a more accurate term to describe her. Without my human grandmother caring for me and my sisters, I don’t know what would have become of us. “Not really,” Jessa answered, undaunted by my blunt response. “Lord Blackshire didn’t really let me out of his manor often, and definitely never at any of his parties. Though I did go to the castle once! Wasn’t allowed to leave his chambers though…” “There are more of us than you might think,” I frowned. “Most dragon-bloods don’t go around advertising it.” “Really?” Jessa squeaked. “So I could have spoken to one and not even known about it? Incredible!” She seemed genuinely amused by this revelation that there could be thousands of dragon-bloods hidden in plain sight (there most certainly weren’t), so I decided not to open my mouth again and dampen her spirit.  “Look! He’s really here!” she whispered to me. “I can’t believe he came in person. Have you met him before? Oh, if he becomes my new master I’ll just die!” Die? Now she’s speaking my language. This poor girl sounded like a simpleton. Why would I have met any of the lords and wealthy men bidding today? Why on earth would anyone be excited to be someone’s slave? I made a mental note to eventually find and kill whoever had addled this poor girl’s brain to make her think this way.   “Hush it, w****s! Don’t think I won’t rough you up before you get on that block,” the guard hissed as he eyed Jessa.  “What do you mean ‘die’?” I whispered, giving the guard the stink-eye right back. He ignored us, and turned his attention back out the gap in the curtain.   “Oh, it’s just an expression because it would be so exciting to call him master!” she gasped. “I just thought you might know him, since he’s a dragon and all.” Dragon? Oh, s**t. This is bad— very, very bad.  “What dragon?” I whispered frantically. I had made a point to avoid dragons my entire life. What if they could smell me? They’d know what I was and have me locked away before I could even blink. Everyone knew dragons liked to hoard precious things. On top of that, phoenixes were suppose to be good luck. Supposedly, dragons were drawn to phoenixes, though the only evidence I had of that was my miserable existence.  “The Ice Prince, of course,” Jessa replied, giving me a strange look like I was the simple one. “He’s over there in the corner speaking to Callie- the tall, handsome one. Oh, she’s so lucky!” My gaze zeroed in on the man, well, dragon in question.  My body was immediately assailed by a swift heat that seemed to radiate from the pit of my stomach.  Hello lover, my inner phoenix purred. I had never seen anyone so breathtakingly handsome before. It was an unforgivable crime, really, to be that good looking. It wasn’t fair for the people who had to look at him and never be able to have him. What did a prince like that need a bed slave for? Surely all he had to do was crook his finger and the women would jump into his bed faster than a pixie to sugar. He was tall with broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. His clothes, fine as they were, did little to hide the rippling muscles in his shoulders and chest. I would have been content to stare at those bulging muscles all day, but then he looked in my direction, and my heart skipped a beat.  His eyes… Oh Gods, those eyes. They were ice blue, which I should have expected, because hellooo… ice dragon. Something about the way they contrasted against the shiny black hair that curled around his ears, long lashes, and pale skin made them all the more alluring. Also, I was pretty sure if I touched his cheekbones with my fingertips I might cut myself on them.  Horrified at my reaction, I took a deep breath and shoved that infernal bird back to the depths of my mind where she belonged. Mentally I ran through everything I knew about dragons, terrified that I had misremembered something and it was actually phoenixes that were the ones drawn to dragons. At least that would explain why one look at him had my undergarments soaked. Figuratively of course, since undergarments apparently weren’t permissible attire for bed slaves.  Gods, and Callie was talking to him! Judging by the way he looked in my direction, she was talking to him about me.  Identity compromised. Abort mission! I briefly considered sending her some kind of physical gesture to tell her to move on, but before I could decide, Jesse and I were being hauled up to the side of the block.  “Get in line, w****s,” the guard sneered. “It’s almost time.” I let the bundle of chains slung around my arm slip to the floor, landing right on the guards boots with a thud. It was petty on my part, but he deserved it. I enjoyed his startled little puppy yelp. “Oops,” I cooed innocently. I’m sure he would have hit me had there not been so many onlookers. I turned my attention away from him just in time to see Jessa ushered onto the stage.  “The last auction before the main event is a lovely redhead. Don’t be fooled by the hair, she’s as sweet as sugar,”  the auctioneer crooned. I would have loved to burn him, or at least slap him. “Shall we start the bidding at five gold pieces?” I scoffed. Such an insulting sum for a human being. No doubt the men were worth five times as much.  “Ten!” a voice called out.  “Fifteen!” said another.  Jessa’s eyes went wide. I deduced she wasn’t fond of the newest bidder, but I couldn’t even make out who it was from my side of the curtain.  “Eighteen!” the first voice countered.  “Oh, come on Huxley! You know I have a thing for redheads,” the second voice complained. A chorus of laughter and cheers followed. “Twenty gold!” “Ah, take her. I bet the carpet doesn’t even match the drapes.” More raucous laughter. Jessa was beet red up on the podium. A few more moments passed, and the auctioneer spoke again.  “Sold at twenty pieces!”  Jessa turned her head to me and gave me a shy smile. I guess twenty gold pieces was a good price for a bed slave, but I was still outraged for her. To put so little value on a human being was unconscionable to me. Yes, I will definitely burn this place to the ground the next time I’m here, I swore silently.  “And now for the main event,” the auctioneer announced to cheers and applause from the buyers. I snorted and looked around. What on earth would have them so excited? “Get up there,” the guard snarled, shoving me up the steps so hard I tripped on the chains I was dragging.  Oh, s**t. It’s me. I’m the f*****g main event.  Panic rose up in my chest. Somehow, Callie neglected to mention that. I stumbled again as I stupidly walked towards the platform, drowning in a sea of leering faces. For someone like me, whose very existence depended on keeping a low profile, this much attention was terrifying. “The interest in the dragon-blooded girl has been overwhelming. Rest assured, bound in the dragon-steel, she is completely harmless. Despite evidence that she can control fire, we’ve not had an incident since she’s been here. The manacle will also be transferred to her new owner, and as such we will start the bidding at one hundred gold pieces. Do I hear one hundred?” The crowd let out a few gasps and murmurs of disbelief.  “One fifty!” Someone shouted. My head was swimming. I couldn’t make out who was bidding. Clearly there were some in attendance who were not going to be put off by such an outrageous price.  “Two hundred!”  I scanned the room as I tried to remember what Callie had told me to do. She was gone, as was the sexy dragon she’d been speaking to just minutes ago.  “Two fifty.” This bidder was a short, round man with a soft middle. I could take him in a fight if it came down to it. I could most certainly outrun him. Relief flooded through me.  “A thousand gold pieces.” The crowd reacted to to the new bid with murmurs and gasps of surprise. The new voice was low and hard, a rich baritone that made me stagger backward as I searched for the voice’s owner. I was not alone; every head in the building turned to the speaker.  Gods, no. Anyone but him.  No.  No.  Please.