The shove to my shoulder isn’t gentle.
“Come on. It’s time.”
I blink awake with the groggy confusion of someone who didn’t mean to fall asleep in the first place. The wolf-eared girl is leaning over me, backlit by afternoon light filtering through the carriage’s open door. Her ears are pinned back flat, which I’m learning is never a good sign.
“Up,” she says again, sharper this time.
I sit up too fast and immediately regret it. My neck protests from the angle I’d been slumped at for the last few hours, and there’s a cool weight against my side that turns out to be Silvy. She stirs as I move, blinking those unsettling pale eyes.
“We’re here already?” Her voice is sleep-rough.
The wolf girl gestures impatiently toward the door. “Out. All of you.”
I shuffle forward on stiff legs and step down onto cobblestones. The others are already filing out behind me. We’re in a narrow street between tall buildings that lean in close enough to block most of the sky. The air smells like old stone.
And directly in front of us, unmistakable even without a sign, is the auction house.
It’s a squat, windowless structure with iron-banded doors and the kind of architectural charm that says we don’t need to look welcoming because you’re not here by choice.
Silvy stops beside me, nose wrinkling. “You brought us straight here? Not even a quick wash first?”
The wolf girl rounds on her fast enough that Silvy actually takes a step back. “Shut up.” Her voice has an edge. “We have our reasons.”
Her ears twitch, swiveling toward the mouth of the alley like she’s listening for something that isn’t there yet.
The second wolf girl finally speaks up from where she’s helping unload the others. “We’re not even going to get half of what he’s worth if we rush this.” She jerks her chin toward me.
“Shut the fuck up.” The first one doesn’t even turn around. Her tail is rigid behind her, bristling. “You really want to chance running into Kanna? I’m not dying today. We get in there, we get out. Move.”
The name means nothing to me, but the way she says it makes me wonder what kind of person she is.
The first wolf girl is already moving toward the iron-banded doors, one hand resting on the hilt of a knife at her belt like she expects trouble to materialize out of the stonework.
I get herded forward with the rest of the group.
The doors open before she can knock.
The woman standing in the threshold has curved horns that sweep back from her temples and a monocle perched over her left eye that catches the light when she tilts her head. Her expression is the particular flavor of annoyed that comes from being interrupted during something more interesting.
“Small lot today?” Her voice is clipped, business-like.
The wolf girl doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Let’s just get on with it.”
The horned woman’s eyebrow arches, but she steps aside to let us through. “The crowd’s already here. We were auctioning off some dagger earlier.” She sweeps her gaze over our group as we file past, taking stock with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s done this a thousand times. “Good. The collars are already on.”
Then her eyes land on me, and she stops.
“Oh my.” The monocle tilts as she leans in slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. “A human stud. Now that’s a rare sight.”
I keep my expression carefully neutral and don’t respond. There’s nothing to say to that.
She straightens, tapping one finger against her chin. “I’m not sure the clientele here is suitable for a proper asking price. You’d get triple if you waited for…”
“It’s fine.” The wolf girl cuts her off. “We just want to get a move on.”
The horned woman pauses, then inclines her head in a gesture that manages to be both acquiescent and faintly disapproving. “Understood.”
She turns her attention back to me, and I feel my stomach drop before she even speaks.
“You. Come with me. You’ll go on first.”
Of course I will.
I follow her deeper into the building, away from the others. The corridor is narrow and dim, lit by oil lamps that give off more smoke than light. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, that familiar spike of adrenaline that comes when control slips entirely out of reach.
She leads me through a side door into what looks like a staging area. There are crates stacked against one wall and a mirror propped up on a dressing table that’s seen better decades.
I can hear the crowd on the other side of a heavy curtain. It’s muffled but unmistakable, the low rumble of conversation, the occasional sharp laugh, the scrape of chairs. My mouth goes dry a weird feeling of stage fright filling me.
The horned woman circles me once, her monocle glinting. “You’re filthy,” she says matter-of-factly. Then her expression shifts to one of appraisal and hunger. “But you’d clean up well. Too bad I couldn’t buy you myself.”
She licks her lips.
I look at her. The hunger there isn’t cruel, exactly. Just direct. Honest in a way that makes me wonder if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, being wanted like that. At least it would be simple.
Then she turns away and the moment breaks.
“Come on.”
She sweeps toward the curtain and I follow because there’s nowhere else to go. My legs feel disconnected from the rest of me, moving on autopilot while my brain scrambles uselessly for an exit that doesn’t exist.
The curtain parts and we step through.
The stage is small and raised, lit by oil lamps hung from the ceiling on chains. Beyond the edge of the platform, the room opens up into rows of chairs and benches, maybe eighty people packed in with varying degrees of interest. The chatter doesn’t stop completely when we walk out, but it quiets. Heads turn. Eyes find me.
They’re all women. Human faces, mostly. Humanish builds. But the ears give them away, some pointed and swept back, some rounded and tufted, some long and drooping. One woman in the front row has scales glinting along her jawline like Silvy. Another has feathers instead of hair. The variety is dizzying, and every single one of them is looking at me like I’m something they might want to take home.
The horned woman steps forward to the edge of the stage, raising one hand for attention. The room settles into silence.
“Ladies,” she begins, her voice carrying easily over the space. “We have something special for you today. A human stud, recently acquired. Young, and healthy.”
A ripple of noise runs through the crowd. I stand there and try not to feel like a piece of furniture.
“We’ll start the bidding at five silver.”
A hand goes up in the middle of the room, maybe four rows deep, but the woman attached to it commands attention like she’s standing front and center under a spotlight.
She’s human. Unmistakably, completely human. No strange ears, no scales, no horns. Just a woman in the most theatrical getup I’ve ever seen. A black and white tailcoat with actual tails sweeping behind her like a cape and tailored pants with leather straps buckled around her thighs like she’s about to duel someone at dawn. She’s leaning on a cane, and perched on her head is a top hat so tall and glossy it catches the lamplight. A white flower ornament decorates the band. Her dark hair spills out from under it in waves.
The domino mask covering her eyes is sleek white, and below it her smile is sharp and knowing. The whole effect screams showmanship, like she walked out of some grand theater production and decided the rest of the world was her grandstand.
“One gold,” she says, and her voice carries with the easy projection of someone used to being heard.
The auctioneer pauses, visibly recalculating. “One gold is our current bid.”
But I’m barely listening because something about that smile, even half-hidden behind the mask, sends a jolt of recognition through me that doesn’t make sense. The curve of her mouth. The tilt of her head. Even her body.
It reminds me of Amalina.
Not identical. But close enough that my chest tightens and my brain stutters over the impossible math. This is a completely different world. But what if this is a version of Amalina.
The thought hits me like cold water. What if She has a counterpart here? What if I’m standing on a stage being auctioned off and she’s sitting right there in the audience, about to buy me?
Part of me wants to run. Part of me wants to lean into it, to find out if it’s really her, if I could have another chance, if this time it could be different.
I know how stupid that sounds even as I think it.
A woman with fox ears near the front raises her hand. “One gold, two silver.”
The auctioneer nods. “One gold, two silver.”
The domino-masked woman straightens slightly, her cane tapping once against the floor. “One gold, eight silver.”
Then another hand shoots up from the left side of the room, and I turn to look.
An elf. The pointed ears are longer than the others I’ve seen, and her auburn hair is braided down her back in one thick rope. She’s absolutely stunning. Athletic build, dressed practically in what looks like traveling gear. Her green eyes are bright, almost luminous in the lamplight, and she’s grinning like she just spotted something she’s been searching for her whole life.
“Two gold,” she says, and her voice rings out clear and excited.
The domino-masked woman’s head snaps toward her. Even through the mask I can see the frustration tightening around her mouth.
“Two gold, two silver,” she counters, her voice sharper now.
The elf doesn’t hesitate. “Two gold, four silver.”
The domino-masked woman leans forward, her knuckles white around the head of her cane. “Two gold, eight silver.”
There’s something almost desperate in the way she says it.
The elf’s smile gets wider. Her eyes flash with competitive glee. “Three gold.”
The room goes quiet.
I watch the domino-masked woman slump back in her chair, the fight draining out of her all at once. Her shoulders drop and she presses one hand to her forehead like she’s trying to ward off a headache.
The elf looks around the room, her gaze sweeping over the crowd with obvious anticipation. Her eyes light up when no other hands go up, when it becomes clear she’s won.
She’s looking at me now. And there’s something in her expression that makes my stomach twist, something warm and hungry and deeply satisfied.
The auctioneer clears her throat. “Three gold. Going once.”
Silence.
“Going twice.”
The elf is still staring at me, that wide smile fixed on her face.
“Sold.”
Auburn haired Elf