The Real Cinderella by S. G. Ricketts (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

to be here. What’re you here for: lechery?” I glared hotly at him, deciding he wasn’t so grandfatherly after all.

His grin widened and his eyebrows vanished into his hair. “Fiery, are we? Aye, I like meh girl fiesty, but I’m noot un to tek advantage o’ somethin’ like’n this. Jus’ statin’ facts, girlie.” He settled next to me. Warily, I scooted closer to my female companion. He offered a gnarled hand. “Patty’s th’ name, girlie. Meh, I wos sold by meh daughter for the small crime o’ breathin’.” He shrugged, resting his head against a beam. The wagon hit a rut and he fell sideways, chains smashing painfully into my elbow. “M’ apologies, girlie.”

I nodded, in too much pain to do more than grunt. Finally, I had calmed my breathing to mere ragged gasps. “I’m...Kat. Why...Why did she sell you?”

He sighed and flicked a piece of King-knows-what off his forearm. “Seems it’s meh fault she hasn’ food.” I must have looked dubious because he flashed me that awful smile again. “She has yet t’ learn that not e’ery babe they seed in her has to live. Four, if’n I remember correct.” He spat, a string dribbling down his cheek. I rested my cheek against my knee, listening so I could focus on something other than the pain. “Bloody woman’d rather raise Royal scum that save ‘er own da. Why, wiffout meh, she’d ne’er been born.”

I nodded numbly, feeling every pebble along the road. His was certainly an unfair punishment, unlike mine. “Chose” to be here... I deserve to be here.

I looked at the others around me, faces ashen and eyes empty. I was beginning to look like them. It scared me. Patty’s voice grounded me, talking away like I was listening. This is just a bad dream. That’s all. Just a dream.

The woman next to me relieved herself and I cringed at the smell. It seeped around my bottom but I made no move to get away. This wasn’t the first time. A really, really bad dream... One that I won’t wake up from.

“Bloody overseers musta beat ye, eh? Slavers know better than to damage thur properties.”

Please be a dream. In the name of the Prince, please be a dream.

Tears slid silently down my cheeks. My back was a wall of pain, so intense I could barely breathe for fear of the pain. My limbs ached from days of sitting and my wrists and ankles were raw from the shackles. My shift clung to every inch of me, caked in things I cared not to dwell upon. And Liza wasn’t here. Another tear slipped down my cheek.

Something soft wiped it off my chin. I glanced over, meeting Patty’s gaze. “Thur now, girlie. Ye’s still young. Ye can do weel in these places.” He rubbed the tear between his fingers, quiet for a moment. I took a shuddering breath, waiting. Finally he looked back at me, grim acceptance in his eyes. “At least ye’ll get a whore house. I’m destined for the barracks. Fron’ line o’ practice, I am.”

It took me a moment to understand what he was saying, and then I stared at him in horror. “But... you’re still people! I thought they couldn’t hurt you, the slavers.”

He grimaced, shh-ing me. “Nay, girlie. The slavers can’t. Once I’m bought, it be up to meh owners how I be used. I saw th’ list. Patty O’Herran - trenches. Living turget practice I be.”
Horrified, I looked around the wagon. Everyone was sick or old. The woman next to me slumped against the canvas, hair plastered to her face. “Are...all of you...” I couldn’t finish my thought.

He nodded solemnly, patting my arm consolingly. “Aye, girl. you’re the lucky one here, gettin’ out alive. We be protected until we step off’n the auction block.”

For once, I agreed that a brothel was a better option. My companion lifted her head and I flinched at the look on her face. I leaned closer to Patty, realizing that the others were all looking at me with the same hungry, angry looks. “So...you’re protected until you’re sold?” I pulled my knees closer, a plan beginning to form. Sweet Prince, if this isn’t a dream, help me get out alive.

“Bit slow, are we? Tha’s wot I said.”

I grinned slightly, feeling a strange madness fill my mind. “Not slow, Patty. Just making sure. With eighteen of us, we should be able to make it.”

He watched me shrewdly, face lopsided by his swollen cheek. “Wot be ye thinkin’, girlie?”

“Eighteen against six aren’t great odds. Eighteen against six not allowed to touch us? I say we have a chance.”

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The door flap opened and a rugged slaver poked his head in. “Bloody foul stench you lot make.” He pulled back outside and yanked at the door, sliding the cover off. The sunlight was blinding. My eyes burned with it, but my lungs welcomed the fresh air. After a few moments my eyes began to adjust. We looked horrible, covered in the muck we’d lived in for days so that there wasn’t a spot clean on us. The other slaves stared at our captors, a mix of fear and indifference. I suppressed my momentary pride at their acts, schooling my face into a mask of pain. It wasn’t difficult. We had worked the plan down to the last detail. Even now, I saw one of the other women tighten her grip on her chains. Once we were all on the ground, we would start.

The slaver grabbed the first prisoner, a girl no more than fifteen, and hiked up her shift. I bit back a gasp, too afraid to risk the plan. She barely struggled, too scared to move. He leered at her before grabbing something offered to him from behind. I had a momentary glimpse of something glowing before she screamed. “Gimme the next one.” Sobbing, the girl fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Even before the smell of burnt flesh hit my nose, I knew what was coming.

The others began to stir, panic spreading. Patty gripped my knee, bony knuckles white. “I’d thot it a myth, th’ branding.”

Gently, I squeezed his hand. “Branded or not, we’ll get out of this.” He nodded, barely, face as white as his hands under the grime.

I was last. I don’t know why. Perhaps they were saving me for last, or perhaps it was luck. The slaver eyed me and paused. “Mmm... Road’s not been too rough on this one, Brean.” He ran a finger down my cheek, black eyes cold. Were they all such sadists? I could hear the brand sizzle against my skin but I was too far gone to feel it. Thank the King for the pain.

I stumbled as he let me go, my forehead colliding with Patty’s shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, I was beginning to feel the fire. The sob caught me by surprise. I was watching someone else collapse, arms and legs spread out across the ground screaming in pain. I didn’t even have the strength to curl. Harshly, my chains were yanked and half-dragged, half- crawling I began the walk to our pens.

My mind was blissfully unaware of how I got there. The others were in just as bad of shape as I was when I finally came to my senses. The pen was slightly larger than the wagon, wooden sides streaked with dark stains I didn’t want to identify. Patty nudged me gently and I rolled my head over to look at him. “Don’ think yer plan’s gonna work, girlie.”

I sighed, too weak to shake my head. “No, Patty. I think we’re done this time.” He nodded and I thought I saw something wet disappear into his scraggle of a beard. I nudged him back and managed a small smile. “And it’s Kathryn. If I’m going to be sold as meat, you might as well call me that. Someone should, one last time.”

He sniffed, blinking his good eye. “Patrick, m’lady Kathryn. And it’s en honor t’ go t’ th’ butcher’s block with ye.”

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I stared at Patty’s back as we slowly made our way to the auction block. The sun hovered just over the roofs of Cardeas. Bitterly, I examined the city called Friendship. Royals and Flawed alike crowded the block, faces excited to see the next prisoner. Disgusted, I turned away from them, watching Patty’s gnarled muscles move under skin flecked with age. He stepped slowly onto the first step and paused, suddenly turning to face me. “Take this.” He shoved something in my hand and turned to walk the rest of the steps before I could speak.

The setting sun brushed coppery fingers against his face and he stood tall on the block. The wind whispered through filthy hair. He raised his chin defiantly. I gripped the bundle tightly, throat suddenly dry. I blinked back tears as I watched him stand strong against their bids. He stared out across the crowd, daring them to meet his eye. In moments, he was sold. Proudly, he walked off the other end and vanished from sight at the side of a Royal soldier. He was gone. I bit my lip, fighting to keep my composure. He had held on until the end. The block seemed smaller, darker somehow with him gone, and I realized that I had admired him. He’d befriended the most unlikely person in that wagon and treated me like someone who valued. Like my father would have.

I tasted iron in my mouth and took my own place on the block.

The sun dipped below the buildings and my audience’s faces slipped into shadow. On the outskirts, a crier declared me the last sale of the day. The others were herded away. I lifted my chin, ignoring its perilous wobble. The package pressed against my palm, giving me what little courage I had left. “Number 47!” the auctioneer shouted. I flinched and gritted my teeth. Was Liza somewhere bearing this same torture? I looked out over the crowd, glad I couldn’t see their faces. Were they watching me stand here almost naked in the cool evening air? I could feel every breath of wind, painfully aware of just how exposed I was. “We begin at thirty silver drakas. Thirty drakas, thirty drakas, anyone for thirty drakas?” He raised one of my arms, pressing the shift against my waist. “Still of good age, with solid muscle.” I tuned him out, unable to bear his words. His hands drifted over various parts of my body, outlining my good qualities and ignoring the obvious flaws. I shied away as he gripped my chest and was rewarded with a solid punch in the gut. The crowd cheered and I learned to stay still.

The price steadily rose to one gold roye. I sighed, relieved, until my bidder stepped into the lantern light. He was cruelly handsome and I was suddenly sure I wouldn’t live through the night. He had the look of a hunter, deadly graceful and entirely focused on me. I took a step back and the auctioneer prodded me reprovingly in the back. “One gold roye, one gold roye! Any higher