Hey peeps!

This was a short story, then I altered it to be a chapter 1. I like this story (worked on the outline years ago, even did some writing with it) and now I want to show it to peeps again. Let me know if you enjoy.

Shami

Chapter 1

The Astral Garden

            The Astral Garden rarely sold people in their auctions, but they did so whenever they acquired unique individuals. Like me.

            The ancient mages who oversaw the auctions moved with an air of effortless command, their robes trailing the polished floor like shadows tethered to their feet. They had magicks in place to prevent their merchandise from running, so escape wasn’t an option.

            I followed one of them as dutifully as livestock led to market.

            The opulence around me was impossible to ignore, though I tried. Floors gleamed like still pools of white water, while towering walls were adorned with silk tapestries, their threads shimmering when caught by the dying sunlight.

            At last, we stopped before a door unlike the others we had passed. It was made of birch wood, polished to a sheen. Delicate carvings adorned its surface—roses and vines entwined, which was the crest of the Astral Garden.

            The beauty of the craftsmanship was almost enough to distract me from the gilded frame that surrounded the door, its golden edge a sharp contrast to the pale wood. It was a sealing spell that would prevent anyone from entering or leaving, unless they were accompanied by a mage.

            The mage who led me—a tall figure draped in layers of crimson and black, his face obscured by a shimmering veil—lifted a hand. The door clicked open. He stepped aside and motioned for me to enter.

            With a deep breath, I stepped in, my chest tight.

            He followed.

            “You’re beautiful,” the mage said as he stroked my long, silver hair. “There aren’t many of your kind in the world anymore.”

            I jerked away from his touch and pressed myself against the far wall, putting as much distance as I could between us. The man said nothing else. He bowed and exited, leaving me alone in my posh cell.

            My new bedroom so garish it bordered on obscene. The walls were swathed in fabric—crimson silk so heavy it seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

            A massive bed dominated the center of the room, its frame gilded and its canopy draped in sheer, glittering material that cascaded down like a waterfall of starlight. Plush rugs covered the floor in layers, their intricate patterns clashing in a way that suggested expense over taste. A single chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals casting a fractured glow across the room.

            There was a tall bookshelf and several tomes. A single chair for reading.

            I walked around, the thick carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps. There was no window. The air smelled of stagnant perfume.

            It was a beautiful cage, at least. The mages had built themselves a palace and lush garden on the side of a steep mountain overlooking the Lilay Valley. A river and lake were nearby, though I couldn’t see them.

            It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts.

            The room didn’t have any pens, metal objects, or rope for the curtains—likely so I couldn’t easily kill myself. The mages wouldn’t know this, but my kind didn’t believe in an afterlife. So, while I feared my new life as a captive, I feared death even more.

            I covered my face with my hands, my chin quivering. I wished I had the power to escape this place, to make everyone who wronged me suffer.

            My inability to alter the situation blossomed into hate and anger. I turned my attention to the only objects in the room weaker than me. Although I normally enjoyed reading, I grabbed the books and threw them from the shelves.

            Fistful by fistful, I ripped out the pages and shredded them into tiny pieces. I imagined the mage’s faces as I did so. And my mother. And the carriage drivers who has brought me here. And the gate guards who had let us in.

            So feverish was my rage that I hadn’t even noticed when I cut myself on the pages. I didn’t stop until I had exhausted myself, my white blood dripping from my palms and staining the rugs.

            I didn’t care. I hoped one of the mages would have to clean it—that they would hate doing so. 

            I collapsed to my knees and leaned against the wall, my breathing heavy. Such antics were childish, I knew. Nothing good would come from me destroying my room, but somehow it had made me feel better. Now tired, I closed my eyes and prayed my dreams would take me far from the Astral Garden.

            My thoughts didn’t cooperate, though.

            I pulled my silver hair forward and hid behind the locks, my eyes scrunched closed.

            A kirin…

            I was a kirin.

            I didn’t speak the words often, because I hated the fact, but my metallic hair, dark indigo eyes, and tanned skin betrayed my secret. Even if someone didn’t know what I was exactly, they knew I wasn’t human. And they would stare…

            They always stared.

            With a ragged breath, I pushed myself into the corner of the room, trying to make myself as small as possible. The kings and queens and regents would stare. They would touch me and whisper things as though I couldn’t hear. My magick was all they wanted. If they could take it, even if it meant leaving me as a husk or corpse, I was certain they would.

            The door creaked open. I shuddered.

            A man in a long robe with a thick silk belt walked in carrying a tray of assorted food. He wore a veil over his face, obscuring most of his features—which he was one of the mages.

            He glanced around the spacious bedroom, eyeing the shredded paper, and stopped only once he spotted me. Then he set the tray on the foot of the bed and hurried to my side.

            The man knelt. “Divine Kirin, what happened?”

            I hadn’t realized I had been crying. The tears matted my hair, and when I went to speak, I just sobbed. I wanted to tell the mage to leap from the nearest balcony and leave me to my last moments of solitude, but I couldn’t.

            “You’re bleeding.”

            He withdrew a blue cloth from the folds of his belt and quickly wrapped my hands. He gently patted the tiny lacerations. My white blood stained the fabric and looked like splotchy white clouds.

            Then he did the same to my other hand, his movements slow and delicate.

            “I brought food,” he said in a kind tone. “Raspberries, apples, and carrots. You can have as much as you want.”

            Although I didn’t know how he knew my favorite foods, I still refused to answer.

            “My name is Shen.”

            He didn’t offer a title or a surname. Through my watery eyes, I noticed the honeyed skin of his hands had no loyalty brands seared into the flesh. He wasn’t a full mage, then. Not yet.

            All the full mages of the Astra Gardens had to bind themselves to the Circle, to ensure none of them would betray the others. Those loyalty brands were always etched into their flesh the moment they mastered their magic, and they always placed them on the hands.

            “Why don’t I escort you to your bed?” Shen asked.

            I pressed myself harder against the wall.

            He waited a moment, and when I didn’t move, he inched closer. “I understand you might be frightened. I was, too, when I was sold to this place.”

            I didn’t make eye contact, but from my peripherals I saw him fidget with his hands.

            “Please, Divine Kirin. I’ve been tasked with your care until the auction. They’ll… blame me if I present you with injuries and an empty stomach. Let me care for you until tomorrow. I’m here to make your life as comfortable as possible, I swear it.”

            When Shen moved to pick me up, I didn’t struggle. He lifted me with little effort—I only weighed ninety-five pounds in my human form—and then carried me to the bed. The blankets and pillows squished under my weight. I sank into the down mattress, momentarily amused by the softness of the silk.

            Shen withdrew a comb from the folds of his belt—he had clearly come prepared. Without words, he brushed my hair back, clearing it from my face. Once finished, he retrieved the tray of my favorite foods and placed it at my side.

            “Shall I cut them for you?”

            Perhaps I was just feeling emotional, but his simple gestures of kindness made me cry. I pulled my knees to my chest and turned away from him, embarrassed by my weeping.

            He cut them, despite the fact I never answered. The fragrance of the sliced green apples put me at ease, and the rhythmic sounds of the knife helped me focus. Once I took a deep breath without trouble, I turned to face him.

            “Will they brand me?” I whispered.

            Shen froze.

            Mages dominated other creatures by branding them with their fell magic. A controlling brand to ensure obedience—that was what I expected they would do to me.

            “I don’t know for sure,” Shen said.

            A coward’s answer. He knew. Just like I knew. But he didn’t want to say aloud.

            I didn’t want to say it aloud, either.

***

            The next morning, Shen brushed my hair with a comb that had been dipped in scented oil. The fragrance, tinted with lavender, reminded me of home. I would never see it again, and that fact haunted me long after Shen finished.

            Then he gave me long silk robes to wear. I changed outside of his company, though it took me longer than it should’ve.

            Once ready, Shen guided me out of my gaudy bedroom. The auction would begin at noon and last until sunset.

            Each ruler from the various nations, along with their retinue, would mingle in the grand ballroom while the bidding process took place. The flames of war consumed the countryside, which meant no one wanted to stay here long. They wanted to return home as quickly as possible to use my power.

            Kirin could affect the tide of battle. Our magicks made us grand strategists, capable of aiding soldiers over vast battlefields with heightened strength and morale.

            Kirin also saw glimpses of the future. Our magicks showed us possible outcomes, but only those related to death, leadership, and betrayal.

            Centuries ago, kirin allied themselves only with just and noble rulers. That meant they could strengthen weaker countries and allowed them to remain autonomous. Then tyrants and warlords approached the mages of the Astral Garden and paid for controlling brands. They captured kirin and forced them into service. These tyrants became gods of war, and then they ravaged other nations who lacked kirin to guide them.

            A hunt broke out for kirin.

            Everyone wanted them.

            A commoner could strike it rich if they caught one. A noble could gain favor if they offered it to their lord. A ruler could turn the tide of war for his nation. There were a thousand reasons to capture them, and little downside for trying.

            Because kirin were gentle and fragile—our magicks were unsuited for personal combat or protection.

            My mother had told me that was when the kirin gathered at the Astral Garden and struck a deal. If the mages provided the kirin with a hidden city—one unreachable by all others—they would relinquish every fourth kirin born to be sold in their auctions.

            So, here I was.

            Unlucky number four.

            My mother already had two other children, and I was certain she had had me to pay the price for our kind’s protection, but she always insisted I had been an accident.

            Shen led me down the wide corridors, past the giant windows with fantastical views of the distant river, and into the grand ballroom. I held my breath as I walked in, my gaze set to the marble floors. My robes flowed behind me, as did my silver hair.

            The guests who had arrived early stopped their conversations as I crossed the vast ballroom. The musicians quieted their instruments. My soft sandals made no noise, intensifying the already deafening silence.

            I didn’t look at the guests. I tried to pretend they weren’t there.

            When we reached the far door, my chest burned from the lack of air.

            Shen motioned me into the audience chamber, and only then did I start breathing again.

            The circular room had a small set of stairs that led to a platform with a luxurious chair. Everything else was wide and empty. The grandiosity of having a room dedicated to a single throne amused me.

            “You will sit here, Divine Kirin,” Shen said. After a moment, he frowned. “Unless you wish to be in your kirin form? I can get a different—”

            “No.”

            “Ah. Very well. You will sit here, and the mages will stand on either side of you.”

            I enjoyed my kirin form more than anything, but I loathed the thought of anyone seeing me as my true self. It was like… disrobing in front of a stranger. I would feel exposed and uneasy. They didn’t deserve to see my beauty. They didn’t deserve anything.

            With shaky hands, I ascended the stairs and took my seat. It was all a show. I was the merchandise, yet they placed me in this seat of power. The people of the world called all kirin divine, and it was once out of reverence, but now it was nothing more than a custom.

            Shen knelt at the base of the steps, his head bowed in a subservient position. I didn’t like the quiet between us. The room felt larger and lonelier, as if we had become statues—nothing more than decoration.

            When the door opened, I flinched. Two mages strode in with scrolls in hand. Their controlling brands—marks burned into their flesh—poked out from the collars and sleeves of their expensive robes. The brands themselves reminded me of pictographs.

            The veils over their faces made everything more mysterious and impersonal. They could be anyone.

            The first mage to reach the steps, a man with the insignia of administration stitched into on the collar of his robes, bow his head slightly before staring at me.

            “Such beauty,” he muttered.

            The second mage, a woman with the insignia of finance stitched in the same location. She was the steward of the Astral Garden, the who wrote the contract for the final bidder. Her thick robes and veil had made it difficult to know who she was until close.

            “It has been a long time since we’ve seen a kirin doe,” the mage woman said. “I thought the kirin were keeping them from us.”

            The mage man huffed out a forced laugh. “I suspect the Seventh Reine will be here to bid on her specifically.”

            “It will be an interesting auction.”

            I turned away from them, my jaw clenched tight. I wouldn’t speak. They had yet to brand me, so they couldn’t force me to do anything. Not yet. Until then, I would save my strength and observe. If ever I had the chance to escape, I would. Maybe Shen would take pity on me and allow me to outrun him.

            The mages took their positions on either side of the throne. The mages of the Astral Garden had many powers, most of which were unknown to the outside world, and I suspected they feared no one at this gathering.

            Did mages even die? I had never heard of it. They imbued themselves with so much magick, I doubted they were even human anymore.

            Perhaps that was why they wore those veils…

            I closed my eyes, allowing time to pass without me even registering it.

            “Bring in the Sun King,” the administrator said. He flicked his wrist and the door opened.

            Shen jumped from his position at the bottom of the steps and rushed to comply. He hurried into the ballroom, where all the gathered rulers were waiting. Once the door slammed shut, the two mages regarded each other with knowing looks.

            The steward woman sighed. “The Sun King is old. He has been to many auctions and never won a thing.”

            “Perhaps he wants to end his reign with a spectacular gesture to his nation,” the administrator said. “He’ll hand over the crown, and a kirin, to his grandson.”

            “He’s weak. He doesn’t have the spine to outbid the others.”

            “We shall see.”

            Shen opened the door wide and stood to the side as he ushered in the required guests.

            The Sun King and ten of his solders stepped into the audience chamber. While I didn’t know the Sun King personally, it was easy to distinguish him from the others. His armor had been custom crafted to fit his giant gut and he wore a helmet with the rays of the sun pointing in many directions.

            Overall, he had a love for the colors of red and yellow. Everything had a bright flare. Even his soldiers had red tassels and yellow feathers decorating their armor.

            Everyone stared at me for a prolonged moment. I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. I kept my attention to the far wall, uninterested in their awe.

            “Divine Kirin,” the Sun King said. “I am the king of Xolin, the lands beyond the Chu Mountains.”

            I didn’t reply.

            The mage woman motioned him forward. “You may approach and examine her for yourself.”

            The Sun King stepped away from his soldiers and stood at the base of the stairs. He said nothing—he just stared, like all they do. Seconds crept by. Then minutes. I was tempted to break my oath of silence and tell him to leave, but I held firm.

            He finally turned his attention to the mages. “Will this be the same as the prior auctions? Silent bidding?”

            The administrator held out his scroll and thin pen. “You may write your bid here.”

            “I’m the first?”

            “With the passing of Queen Milan, you are now the eldest.”

            “Hm. Yes. It’s good to know you mages still adhere to traditions.”

            The Sun King took the parchment and scribbled something before handing it back. He stared at me for another moment before making his way back to his soldiers and commanding them to return to the grand ballroom.

            This wouldn’t be the last I saw of him. After the first round of bidding, they would come back for another—that was when the real war would begin. Until then, all they would do was greet me and leave.

            “Bring in the emperor.”

            Shen exited the room in hurried fashion.

            The Zensai Empire was the most well-known nation back home. That was the birthplace of the kirin, according to legend, and the only place in the world I sometimes longed to see.

            The steward smoothed the veil over her face. “I like this new emperor.”

            “The Emperor of Wyrms,” the other mage replied. “Did you see him when he came to purchase his pets? Those beasts adore him.”

            “I can’t stand wyrms, but I was impressed that he could handle them.”

            When the door creaked open, I turned my attention to the man who entered. A small part of me hoped the emperor would be a kind and understanding man. Maybe—just maybe—I would go with him and I could see the one thing in the world still connected to the kirin.

            The man who entered didn’t look like anything I had imagined.

            His scarred face, gnarled from claw injures, almost erased his ability to convey normal emotions. The injuries stretched beyond his hairline, creating hairless grooves. His eyes, however, retained a sharp and intelligent edge. He was young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and he had the physique of a warrior who knew no rest.

            The emperor had come alone. No soldiers. No retinue.

            Shen closed the door behind him.

            He wore a cloak over his ceremonial armor. Black on black on gray. The lack of color stood in harsh contrast to the Sun King. The emperor’s neck bore the controlling brand of a wyrm—a dragon that had no wings. This meant he had magical control over his beasts.

            Disgusting.

            The Emperor of Wyrms offered the two mages a slight bow. Then he walked up to the base of the steps and stared.

            I didn’t like the fact he refused to speak. He hadn’t greeted me or introduced himself. I turned away, more disturbed with the process than I had been prior. Out of the two rulers I had seen, I preferred the Sun King.

            This man…

            I didn’t care for this man.

            “Make it transform,” the Emperor of Wyrms commanded, his voice harsh.

            I caught my breath, my chest tight.

            The administrator mage motioned to me. “Do you doubt she’s a kirin?”

            “No.” The emperor scoffed. “I just dislike when these creatures disguise themselves. Nothing is more disturbing than a beast wearing the flesh of a race it doesn’t belong to.”

            I gripped the sleeve of my robes, my revulsion for the man intensifying with each second.

            How dare he! I didn’t wear the flesh of another race. Our forms were a gift from the balancing force of nature. It was meant to the bridge the gap between peoples—to help all creatures to connect with a common form.

            My body wasn’t a disguise. This was me. Just as humans who wore clothes were still themselves.

            “We won’t be forcing the kirin to change shape,” the steward said. “These creatures are delicate and shouldn’t be placed under much stress.”

            “I travelled a great distance to be here.” The Emperor of Wyrms narrowed his eyes. “The kirin can either transform now, or I’ll make it transform later, after I win the bid. Only then it’ll be for the delight of the guests of this auction.”

            I took in shallow breaths, my whole body numb.

            I hated this man. It was a crime against the world that he had the power of rulership—that he had any power at all. Would he win the bid? Even imagining that outcome made my mouth dry and my throat twist shut.

            Everyone waited, but I would never do as that man asked.

            “Tsk.”

            The emperor held out his hand for the bidding scroll. Once in his possession, he wrote something in fine penmanship and handed it back to the mage. Without another word, he turned on his heel and allowed his black cape to flutter as he stormed from the audience room.

            I shivered, unsettled by the interaction.

            “Perhaps we should take a short break?” Shen offered to his fellow mages.

            The administrator and the steward exchanged glances before nodding.

***

            In the break before they summoned the last of the rulers, the two mages left Shen and I alone in the audience chamber. We had no windows, just lanterns and art hanging on the walls to keep the room from feeling like a coffin.

            Shen walked up the steps and knelt next to my chair. “Divine Kirin, is there anything I can get you? Some refreshment? A musician?”

            I shook my head.

            “Don’t hesitate to ask me for anything.”

            I met his gaze, my heart in my throat. “Help me escape this place.”

            His expression answered me straight away, even if it took him several moments to find the words. He placed his hands on the armrest of the chair, his gaze falling to the floor. “Please don’t ask this of me. There’s nowhere to go. No place they can’t reach. Death is the only escape, Divine Kirin.”

            I gritted my teeth and turned away, angry at myself for ever thinking this broken man would help me. What benefit was there to him? He would be killed, and I would be returned to the auction. Even if we avoided all the other mages—he was right. We had nowhere to go. My kirin home would return me, and they wouldn’t accept his kind.

            “Only three other rulers sent messengers declaring their intent to bid,” Shen said, his tone one of forced hope. “It’ll be a mercifully short auction, and then you’ll start your new life in a palace far from here.”

            That was my only plan, then. I would have to wait until I was dragged to a distant nation before I could do anything.

            The door opened.

            The administrator and the steward entered with whispered conversation, their robes trailing behind them, their veils practically shimmering. Shen slid back down the stairs into his subservient position.

            Once the two mages had retaken their positions on either side of me, the administrator tapped his pen on the scroll. He stared down his long nose at the writing.

            “Who else has arrived?” he asked.

            “The new king,” the steward replied. “The one who ascended the Thay throne only a month ago.”

            “Hm. The spies brought back chilling reports. He killed his father and two brothers during a family banquet.”

            The mage woman huffed. “His people have affectionately named him the Berserker King.”

            “Humans are savages at times.”

            I forced myself to take calming breaths. Even if Shen didn’t help me, I would find a way to leave this place, but if I panicked, I wouldn’t be able to act at a moment’s notice.  I suspected I would only get a half second to escape if the opportunity ever presented itself. That meant I needed to maintain control.

            I couldn’t break down. I couldn’t let the situation get the better of me, no matter how dreadful the rulers of mankind became.

            Shen left the audience chamber and returned a minute later with two people.

            When I heard the title the Berserker King, I figured he would be a barbarian with a gaze that betrayed his tiny intellect. To my surprise, he held himself like a king should, his eyes sharp and his black hair groomed.

            Not only that, but he wore scale-plate armor, crafted from the hide of an ebony wyrm. Scale plate was the lightest, and strongest, of personal armor, or so the textbooks told me—a master crafter had to have fitted it for him, because it clung perfectly to his chiseled physique.

            An albino man followed behind the Berserker King. His sickly white hair, wan skin, and pinkish-red eyes marked him as someone with an abnormality. Despite that, he wore the same scale-plate and stood with confidence, though he was nearly half the size of his lord.

            The Berserker King walked straight to the administrator and held his hand out for the scroll.

            The mage chuckled, his veil fluttering. “You don’t wish to say anything to the divine kirin?”

            “Is that required?” the king asked, his tone curt.

            “No. All that’s required is that you write your bid.”

            With fast and harsh strokes, the Berserker King wrote something down. “Is this acceptable?”

            The mage looked over the scroll for a long moment. Then he exchanged a quick glance with the steward.

            Finally, the administrator rolled up the scroll. “This is only the first round of bids. Keep in mind that you must set a pace for the many rounds to come.” He spoke like a parent to a child.

            “I know what I’m doing,” the Berserker King said, no hint of irritation.

            Had he even noticed the mage’s condescension? Perhaps he was too thick to understand.

            Curiosity got the better of me. I glanced at the king, wondering if this unstable man who murdered his own kin was as crazy as the mages implied.

            He was already staring at me with intense amber-colored eyes. Our gazes met. He was… unlike any I had met before.  I saw he was a man capable of anything—he probably did kill his whole family. Then again, there was intelligence and gentleness I hadn’t been expecting. It was unsettling, and I regretted giving him any attention. I quickly turned away, my gaze locked on the far wall.

            My heart beat fast. Why was I so nervous? My hand trembled, so I held them together.

            Afterward, the Berserker King and the albino left the audience chamber. I wondered if he glanced back at me, but then I shook the thought from my head. What was I thinking?

            At least the encounter didn’t leave me feeling drained, like with the Emperor of Wyrms. I tried not to think of him as I forced myself to breathe.

            “Has the Seventh Reine arrived?” the steward mage asked. She walked over to the administrator and took the scroll to stare at the bids. “Oh, I knew this would be an interesting auction.”

            Shen stood and bowed. “I will check on the Seventh Reine.” He quickly exited our room and entered the grand ballroom.

            “She won’t win the bid,” the administrator said. “She has nothing left to offer. Not after the last auction.”

            The steward chuckled. “She’s desperate and cunning. You know she came prepared.”

            “If she came it all.”

            The nation of Royo wasn’t as large as the others, but their lands and mountains held great wealth. They had been attacked many times by jealous neighboring lords, each intent on carving out the countryside for themselves. If there was any nation that needed a kirin to keep them safe from larger armies, it would be Royo.

            When the door opened, I glanced over.

            Shen led in a striking woman. She wore tailored robes that exposed one shoulder, and the skin just below the same collarbone. Burned into her flesh were controlling brands. One for a phoenix. One for sea serpent. They were deep burn marks, and some only peaked out from under clothes. She must’ve had five in total.

            And her hair was fiery red, which matched her muscled frame and lively step. Something told me she wasn’t a woman you could talk over. This was the Seventh Reine.

            A man followed the woman into the audience chamber.

            No. Not a man.

            A kirin.

            His long silver hair—it flowed to his shoulder blades like starlight waterfalls—shone in the low light of the chandeliers. His indigo eyes, tanned skin, and thin frame all confirmed my conclusion. With all the refinement befitting royalty, he held his hands in front of him and stood tall with each step.

            I scooted to the edge of my chair, my heart beating fast.

            The Seventh Reine already won herself a kirin? Then why had she come to this auction? The magick of a kirin did not amplify if used together.

            The kirin man had an aura I could sense, like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day. His magicks called to me, reminding me of home, and of my mother. The thought of transforming into my kirin form and frolicking about crossed my mind.

            He wore a collar. Not the kind given to dogs—it was made of gold, encrusted with fine gems—but it was a still, unmistakably, a collar.

            “Thank you for seeing me,” Seventh Reine said. She bowed her head to the mages. “I’m delighted to have this opportunity.”

            The steward half bowed in return. “We’re happy to see you’ve returned. I take it you’re satisfied with your purchase?”

            “Very.”

            I tried to make eye contact with the male kirin—to have some sort of moment with him—to feel as though I wasn’t alone. To my disappointment, he avoided looking at me. He shifted his gaze to the floor or to the mages, or even to Shen. But never me.

            The Seventh Reine walked to the base of my steps and stared. Then she frowned. “This kirin is young.”

            “In a few weeks’ time, she’ll develop her magic,” the administrator said. “This is the same age we sold the others. The perfect time to take them from their nest, before they can fight the betrayal of their parents.”

            The betrayal of their parents.

            The words haunted me.

            The Seventh Reine continued her narrow-eyed examination of me. I almost didn’t notice, because I was too focused on her kirin, but her silky red hair had small gold rings woven throughout. Her smooth skin had no blemish, outside of the terrible brands, and I wondered how long she spent grooming herself for such an auction.

            “When will she be able to carry a child?” the Seventh Reine asked.

            I… hadn’t expected that question.

            I turned to face her, my brow furrowed. Then it struck me.

            I knew her plot.

            “She is a mature kirin right now, capable of carrying young,” the steward replied, no surprise in her voice. “But you should know that we’ll charge you for each controlling brand you require in the future.”

            The Seventh Reine dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “Of course. I just don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to start my plans. If she’s of breeding age, I’m happy to submit my bid.”

            Still, the other kirin would not look at me. Was it shame? Did he know of the Seventh Reine’s scheme and think himself lesser for the hand he would play?

            The Seventh Reine intended to create her own auction to sell kirin, no doubt in my mind. She had purchased a male, and now she would purchase a female and start her own little breeding stable.

            Ice ran through my veins.

            The Seventh Reine took the bidding scroll and stopped short of writing anything. “Is this from the Berserker King?” She glared at the last bid. “Of course. What a buffoon. He doesn’t know the etiquette of such events.”

            “It is his first time,” the male mage said, chortling.

            “It’ll be his last. Mark my words. A man who ascends the throne drenched in blood will have a short, and vicious, reign.”

            “We live in a tumultuous time.”

            Once she finished writing, the Seventh Reine offered another bow and then left. Her kirin, never uttering a word, followed her, his radiant magic disappearing with him.

            A shiver ran down my spine. While I knew the rulers of the various nations would want my magick for their wars, I had never imagined anything like the Seventh Reine. In some ways, she was worse than the Emperor of Wyrms. She wanted to enslave me and all my children, in a terrible cycle that would never end.

            Shen moved forward, his head down the entire time, even as he spoke. “There is only one other ruler in attendance. The Witch Tyrant of Ko.”

            The mages thought this statement over.

The administrator sneered. “I suppose we should allow her a chance.”

            Even in my kirin village, secluded from the world, I had heard rumors of the Witch Tyrant. She had stolen secrets from a lone mage in the wastes and somehow managed to create a channeling brand of lightning. Even if it was just a single brand, it gave her an advantage over normal men. She took the throne and ruled through fear.

            But Shen never got the chance to fetch her. The door opened, drawing the attention of everyone in the audience chamber.

            A young woman strode in, her head high. To my amusement, she wore black robes with a scarlet-silk belt—even a shimmering veil over her face—the same as the mages of the Astral Garden.

            “You have not been summoned,” the steward said, her voice much harsher than it had been before.

            The Witch Tyrant chuckled. She smoothed down the collar of her robes, exposing the channeling brand. She was proud of it, obviously.

            “You needn’t bother your servants,” the woman said. “I am the youngest, and the last in attendance. It was obviously my turn to see this kirin now.”

            Two soldiers entered after her, both men of impressive stature, their plate armor etched with a drawing of the controlling brand, as though it had become Ko’s national symbol. The soldiers waited neat the door while the Witch Tyrant continued to the base of the steps.

            She stopped and offered me a bow.

            “Oh, Divine Kirin. To behold you is such a magnificent gift.”

            I said nothing.

            Unbothered by my silence, the Witch Tyrant stood straight and held her hand out for the scroll. “I promised the nation of Ko it would have a kirin.”

            Just as I had remained quiet, so did the mages. They handed her the scroll, waited for her to write her bid, and then took it back. The Witch Tyrant smoothed her robes as she turned and walked out of the room. Compared to the size of her soldiers, she had the appearance of a child—so short and thin, though still larger than I was.

            When the door swung shut, the administrator rolled up the scroll. The steward took it from him and left, no doubt to start the second rounds of bids. While eight nations had relations with the Astral Garden, only five of them had shown up to participate.

            The Sun King, the Emperor of Wyrms, the Berserker King, the Seventh Reine, and the Witch Tyrant…

            If I had been free to choose, I would’ve rejected all of them.

            None were rulers worthy of my magick. None were people deserving of a nation’s power. But now it come down to who bid the highest, and I would be forced to help them regardless. Which of them would be the least of all evils? Who should I pray to have win?

            The mage man placed a hand on the armrest of my throne. “Divine Kirin. Now is the time to socialize. We have drinks and food tailored to your needs out in the grand ballroom.”

            I didn’t want to go, but I also didn’t want to cause a fuss over such a small request. I wouldn’t speak or interact with anyone, but perhaps I could catch another glimpse of kirin who served the Seventh Reine.

            I stood, my legs shaky, and I headed for the door.

            Shen and the mage flanked me as I entered the giant room filled with the retinue of the rulers in attendance.