Clipped

Chapter 4.

​The Master’s study smelled of old parchment, cloyingly sweet lilies, and the underlying metallic tang of dried blood. Gorgon, an ancient vampire whose skin looked like yellowed vellum stretched over a skull, sat behind a mahogany desk that cost more than most villages. He was currently nursing a crystal flute of O-negative, his dark, oily eyes fixed on the massive intruder who had just bypassed three guards to stand in his sanctum.

​Rhiannon hovered in the shadows of the heavy velvet drapes, her heart a frantic drum against her brittle ribs. She shouldn't have followed them. If Gorgon realized she was listening- if he thought she had somehow enticed this wolf to "rescue" her, the punishment would be etched into her skin for months.

​"Fenris Nightshade," Gorgon hissed, his voice like dry leaves skittering on a grave. "You have quite the reputation among the packs. I didn't realize you had a taste for my particular brand of hospitality."

​"I’m not here for the wine, Gorgon," Fenris growled. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with his presence, making the crystals on the sideboard chime. He reached into the heavy leather satchel at his side and slammed a bulging silk bag onto the desk.

​The sound was heavy, dull, and unmistakable. The sound of high-carat gold.

​Gorgon’s thin nostrils flared. He reached out a spindly, claw-tipped finger and nudged the bag. It tipped, spilling out coins stamped with the crest of the Northern Peaks- the purest gold in the realm.

​"I want the Deeproot girl," Fenris said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "All of her. Her contract, her debts, and her life. Name the price."

​Gorgon let out a high-pitched, wheezing cackle that made Rhiannon shudder. He leaned back, crossing his spindly legs. "The girl? You want my little blue-haired bird? You have expensive taste, wolf. Rhiannon isn't just another girl in the rotation. She’s a masterpiece. A noble-born fairy, clipped and broken just enough to be... compliant."

​"She’s a child you’ve been starving for ten years," Fenris spat, his blue eyes flashing gold in the dim light.

​"She’s an investment," Gorgon corrected, his eyes turning toward the curtains where Rhiannon hid. He knew she was there. He always knew. "Come out, Rhiannon. Let the gentleman see what he’s bidding on."

​Rhiannon stepped out of the shadows, her head bowed, her long blue hair shielding her face. She felt Fenris’s gaze land on her- not with the hunger of the men downstairs, but with a searing, protective heat that terrified her even more.

​"Look at those eyes," Gorgon crooned, reaching out to snag Rhiannon’s wrist. He pulled her closer, his touch cold as a tombstone. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the scars where her wings had once joined her spine. "See these? These stumps make her unique. She can’t fly away. She has nowhere to go. And the trauma... it makes her so delightfully quiet. She doesn't scream anymore, Fenris. Not even when I... visit her in the late hours."

​Fenris’s growl was a physical force, a sound that started deep in his chest and made the floorboards groan. "How much, leech? Don't make me ask again."

​Gorgon’s smile widened, revealing needle-thin fangs. "She’s my top earner. Men pay thousands just to sit in her presence, to see the 'Fairy Princess' in her cage. And for me? She is a very personal comfort. Her blood has a hint of starlight in it, you know. It’s quite addictive."

​He leaned in close to Rhiannon, sniffing her neck. "I don't think I want to sell her. Why would I give up my favorite toy for a pile of metal?"

​"Because that pile of metal is just the down payment," Fenris said, stepping closer to the desk until he loomed over the vampire. "And because if you refuse, I won't just take her. I’ll burn this house of rot to the ground with you inside it. The packs are tired of your 'hospitality,' Gorgon. You’ve been snatching our daughters for years. Consider this a gesture of peace. Take the gold, or take the fire."

​Gorgon’s eyes narrowed into slits. He looked at the gold, then back at Rhiannon. He was a creature of greed, but also of survival. He could see that Fenris wasn't bluffing; the wolf was vibrating on the edge of a full shift.

​"Five bags," Gorgon said suddenly, his voice sharp. "Five bags of that Northern gold. And I want the rights to any 'special' mythicals your pack finds in the next three years."

​"Three bags," Fenris countered, his voice like grinding stones. "Now. And if I ever see your shadow near her again, I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the crows. No deals on mythicals. You get the gold, and you forget she ever existed."

​Rhiannon looked between them, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She was being bartered like a sack of grain. To Gorgon, she was a luxury; to Fenris, she was... what? A cause? A whim?

​Gorgon looked at the spilled coins, the greed finally outweighing his desire for his "toy." He knew the market. He could buy ten humans for the price of one broken fairy.

​"Fine," Gorgon hissed, shoving a piece of parchment across the desk. It was her contract- the one she had signed in her own blood when she was barely old enough to read. "Take her. She’s nothing but bone and bad memories anyway. She’ll probably wither and die within a month once she’s out of my care."

​Fenris grabbed the parchment, his eyes scanning the blood-magic seal before he shredded it in his massive hand. The magic didn't dissipate- it simply transferred. He reached out, his hand hovering near Rhiannon’s shoulder, not quite touching her.

​"Come," he said, his voice surprisingly soft.

​Rhiannon didn't move. She looked at Gorgon, who was already greedily scooping the gold coins back into the silk bag.

​"Go on, little bird," Gorgon sneered without looking up. "Go play with the wolf. I wonder how long it will take for him to realize you're too broken to be any fun."

​Fenris stepped between Rhiannon and the vampire, his back a solid wall of muscle that blocked her view of her tormentor. "Don't look at him," he commanded. "Look at the door. We're leaving. Now."

​Rhiannon followed him, her legs feeling like lead. As they walked through the hallway, the girls in the other rooms peered out, their eyes wide with a mixture of hope and horror. Malory caught her eye, her hand over her mouth in a silent prayer.

​When they reached the heavy oak front doors of the brothel, Fenris pushed them open. The night air hit Rhiannon like a physical blow- it was cold, sharp, and smelled of things that didn't involve perfume or decay. It was the smell of the world.

​She stopped at the threshold, her feet freezing on the stone.

​"I... I can't," she whispered, her voice cracking.

​Fenris turned, his blue-gold eyes searching hers. "The contract is gone, Rhiannon. You aren't his anymore."

​"I’m not anyone's," she said, her dark green eyes filled with a sudden, sharp terror. "If I’m not his... what am I?"

​"You're free," Fenris said, reaching out to gently take her hand. His skin was incredibly hot, a stark contrast to Gorgon’s icy grip, sending goosebumps up her body. "And for now, that's enough."

​As he led her down the steps and toward the carriage waiting area, Rhiannon looked back at the barred window of her room. The silver ribbons of moonlight were still there, but for the first time in ten years, she was on the other side of the iron.