143 The Late Late Show (1/2)

\”Who is that?\” I wondered aloud as I stared at the female drow sitting beside my enemy.

She had short white hair that was shaved at the sides which complimented the chiseled jawline of a fierce, but beautiful face. Her skin was so dark it was almost blue, and her pale eyes hidden underneath white brows were silver in hue.

But what made this drow stand out more than all the other guests I'd seen tonight—even more than the Lord of Stars and his harem—was how she was dressed. Everyone else was decked in evening party outfits but this female had arrived for battle in a snug black vest that was layered with black scales on the chest and shoulders.

To me, at least, this was a clear statement. She wasn't here to party. She was here to go to war.

The drow turned her gaze on me—maybe because I'd been gawking at her for way more than I should have—and gave me a steely-eyed glare that nearly made me want to shrivel into myself like a turtle.

She nudged Ardeen Spellweaver with her elbow and he turned to look at me and Aura too.

I don't know how he knew it was us but I could see the light of recognition on his face. He knew it was me hiding behind the mask as sure as he knew who it was sitting beside me. Not Aurana, princess of the Trickster Pavilion, as not even our own Chancellor of the Moon knew her secret identity. But he did recognize the she-elf mage who'd helped me in the previous war.

Ardeen Spellweaver raised a hand in greeting, and for some unknown reason even to myself, I found myself greeting him back.

This act earned me a raised eyebrow from my companions.

\”Kallista,\” I called. \”You wouldn't happen to know who that is, would you?\”

\”Ah, that's General Morrigan of the Scarlet Moon,\” Kallista explained. \”An up and comer among the Scarlet Moon's military who has earned herself the title of the Black Hand of the Patriarch.\”

I'd heard that name mentioned to me before in tones of equal parts awe and fear. The twins were especially worried about the title, and now I had a face to the name. There she was, the big bad general who'd interfered in Darah and Spellweaver's war.

There were more questions to ask but it was at this point that the lights dimmed and the curtains on the stage parted.

All our eyes turned to the stage, and to my great annoyance, the host who appeared before us was none other than Rosalind Roselle.

More proof for me that the Night of Samhain really was a night of misfortune. Here I was surrounded by enemies and I didn't even have my falchion with me because weapons weren't allowed.

\”Greetings, honored guests, to this very special Samhain Auction brought to you by the faithful masters of the Under Ring,\” Rosalind said in a booming voice loud enough to reach even the farthest seats of the auditorium.

His attire fit his role too. I didn't think I'd ever seen such a colorful robe before, but Roselle was all about the peacock. Thus I dubbed him the clown in the gaudy rainbow robe. It was a joke I shared with Luca.

My brother laughed. It was a laughter that quickly died in his throat after Roselle officially opened the auction with a teaser for the main event.

\”Once in every blue moon, a child of Earth shall awaken to magic's sweet tune… A child that was once as weak as a flower shall blossom into one who holds great power,\” he recited. \”Beware vile fay who laugh in your tower, for here comes the one who exists to devour… One chosen by fate's red loom, who's coming may yet herald the hour of your doom.\”

I'd heard it only once before when Kallista had recited it to me on our way to the Wailing House, and I was surprised then that an actual honest-to-god prophecy had been made just for Ty. It really brought home the idea that he was a chosen one.

After Roselle's rendition of Ty's prophecy had satisfactorily wet the lips of all who heard it, the slave auction finally began and it was as abominable as advertised.

The first slave to be taken up on stage was a human girl no older than me. Blonde, blue-eyed, and very beautiful, she was naked and exposed for the audience to enjoy.

The bidding for this, \”Exquisite human pleasure doll,\” as Roselle put it, began at one-hundred Leprechauns, the equivalent of four thousand US dollars.