Chapter IV - Defiance

“What was that?” Jaedon asked later that night, his brown eyes demanding.

“I don’t know,” Cormac replied calmly, opening the heavy leather tome that held all his business records. He dipped the quill he held into a well of ink and began scratching out figures. “I just couldn’t leave her there.”

“What about your mission? She could definitely complicate things.”

Cormac smiled humorlessly. “I have thought of that, Jaedon.”

Jaedon shook his head. “You can’t afford to take chances like that.”

“Like what? Do you think that a girl is going to single-handedly ruin our mission? And if anybody wonders why the merchant Cormac Alstair has bought a slave girl, they will merely think I have bought her on a whim for my own pleasure. It is normal for other traveling men to do the same.”

Jaedon frowned. “You walk a dangerous path, Cormac. Extra risks do not coincide well with perilous living.”

“Am I supposed to believe that if you were me, you would have left her with that worthless trader?” Cormac looked at Jaedon with raised eyebrows.

Jaedon did not reply.

“You would have saved her as well,” Cormac said quietly. “And I believe that is the reason that I did it too.”

They remained silent for a long while, and Cormac continued writing down the sales he had made that day. After buying the girl in Nimlaem, they had left the city and walked the two miles that separated it from Ruma, the capital. Once inside Ruma they traveled to the small home that Cormac and Jaedon stayed in. They had arrived about twenty minutes earlier.

The last rays of the sun shone through the open window and dust motes danced in the bright beams. A slight wind whispered through the window, touching Cormac’s black, longish hair. I’m surprised it isn’t gray by now, he thought wryly. He was only twenty-three, but he knew he looked more mature than his age. His lifestyle demanded he give his all, and he did so without regret. His rock hard jaw and tan skin spoke of his decisive nature and the time he spent outside; his blue eyes were firm and riveting.

Despite his strong words to Jaedon, he wondered if he had made the right decision in buying the girl. He did not like the angry gaze that she had given him after he paid the slaver. He was a merchant of priceless artifacts from the seacoast kingdom of Meru. Now was not the time to be picking up a female slave who was likely to cause more problems than Cormac would have time to deal with.

He blotted the page he had just written on and carefully put away the writing utensils and corked the ink well. He stood and looked at Jaedon, who had his powerful arms crossed over his chest. Jaedon’s countenance was conflicted. Cormac knew that the man was looking out for him, but he also knew that, despite the trouble he could predict was brewing, buying the girl was the right thing to do.

“You’re right, I would have bought her,” Jaedon said abruptly. “That is why I am worried.”

“What, because I’m acting like you?” Cormac asked with a roguish grin.

“No, because I know what she would do had I been the one who bought her and I suspect you might be looking at the same thing.” Jaedon looked serious. “She’s has a spirit that resents bondage, Cormac.”

So I saw, Cormac thought, but he merely replied, “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe paced the room that she had been placed in. The older man, tall and silent, had put her here and she had not heard anything for the last thirty minutes. The silence was all right with her, but the enclosed room was not. She tried to process everything that had just happened, inwardly seething as she thought about the quick exchange between Grant and the merchant who had bought her—whatever his name was.

Bought me. The words were gall in her mouth, tangible bitterness. The hope of escape that she had been clinging had been falling further and further away since they arrived in Nimlaem the night before. Now it seemed completely beyond her reach. Dark depression threatened to cloud her vision.

No! I cannot give up! She mentally shook herself. Aiden would be disappointed with me. I have to keep going, no matter what happens. She envisioned her tall older brother and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. What would he say to me? ‘Where’s your backbone, Firebrand? Stop lamenting the situation and do something about it!’

She sat down on the small cot that was in the corner of the room and rested her cheek, which still smarted from Grant’s slap, wearily against her hand. She was appalled at the rising tears that threatened to overcome her as she envisioned her tall older brother. I have to keep going, she mentally repeated.

“Besides, Grace needs me,” she murmured aloud. She shook her head hopelessly. “How much pain can a person cope with before they fall apart?” she muttered. She thought of how Grace sobbed when they had parted only an hour ago. She had knelt down and promised the girl that she would find her again and bring her to safety. And I will, she thought with grim determination. Nobody, not even this merchant, is going to keep me from Grace and my freedom.

“Nobody will,” she whispered intensely. “I swear it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was still seated on the cot when the door swung open almost an hour later. The merchant’s tall frame filled the open doorway and Zoe was suddenly aware of how strong this man was, especially in comparison to the indolent rich men she had observed all day. He was carrying a tray and she smelled a heavenly aroma coming from it.

“Are you hungry?”

She rose to her feet quickly and stared at him disdainfully. Her stomach growled as she replied curtly, “No.”

“Really.” The merchant raised one dark eyebrow in a move of absolute superiority that Zoe hated. “When did were you last given food?”

“You speak as if I were an animal, waiting for my master’s crumbs to fall to the floor,” Zoe retorted, ignoring his question. “I was free but a week ago, traveling where I wished and eating when and what I wanted.”

“Traveling where?”

“Is that really any of your business?” She snapped back.

“You speak rather freely to someone who has much control over you,” he said evenly, setting the tray down on the nearby table. Zoe’s mouth watered at the tantalizing scent that wafted toward her. “Elangsian slaves are not usually highly valued. If I were a crueler man, I could have you killed for disrespect.”

“Your control over me lasts only as long as I’m your slave,” she replied bitingly.

“Implying that you won’t be mine for much longer,” he finished.

She did not reply.

“What is your name?”

“What is yours?”

“Cormac Alstair. I am, as you may have guessed, a traveling merchant. I do not usually buy slaves, especially women. In fact, you are the first woman.” He quietly observed her. “That slave trader was going to beat you as soon as I rode out of sight. I was not going to let that happen.”

She was taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone. He was almost believable. “So now I’m supposed to find your actions chivalrous and kind?”

He smiled in a way that infuriated Zoe. “Well, if you want to think of me as chivalrous and kind, I for one will not stop you.”

“I don’t think of you like that,” she said. “I don’t believe you bought me to save me from Grant. I think that you are a lazy rich merchantman who wants to buy a girl for his own amusement. I don’t even know if I’m the first woman you’ve bought, as you have claimed! But I do know that I don’t need your help; I can take care of myself.”

He looked at her calmly. “Which explains why you were taken captive in the first place.”

He’s absolutely maddening! Does he try to irritate me or is it actually unintentional?

After silence reigned for a moment, he asked, “I suspect you are from Aerilya; where in the country do you hail?”

“I am not from Aerilya, or Elangsia, or anywhere around here,” she replied. “I have traveled from the other side of the Cirthian Mountains to this place.” She thought she glimpsed surprise flicker through his eyes, but she wasn’t sure.

“You traveled by yourself? What place did you come from?”

“Yes, I traveled alone,” she said proudly. “I lived there for over a year and was fine until I came down from them and that slaver came along. And I come from Braedoch Forest, a place southeast from here.”

“What is your name?”

“Zoe.” This time she answered his query, raising her chin.

“Meaning ‘life,’” Cormac remarked. Zoe was surprised he knew what her name meant.

“Yes,” she replied. Silence fell between them. Zoe’s stomach growled.

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest and began talking in a low tone. “While you are here with me and Jaedon—the man who was with me earlier,” he clarified—“you are free to move through the house. There is little for you to do, but you are not required to stay in this room. I stay in this house for several months at a time, but it is often unoccupied for much of the year.”

That explains the scanty furnishings, Zoe thought, glancing at the bare room.

“The house you may roam through, and the backyard, which is fenced. You may not depart without Jaedon or me accompanying you.”

Zoe resented his matter-of-fact commands. She should have expected it, she supposed, but after hearing the words “you are free to move through the house” she had hoped for something better than constant bodyguards when she was out and about. “What about when you are selling your goods? Do I have to stay her by myself, chained to a bedpost?”

“I am a dealer in rare artifacts,” Cormac replied steadily, ignoring her quip about the chains and bedpost. “Most of the time my customers come to me, rather than me to them.”

“I see,” Zoe said shortly.

He studied her, his clear blue eyes unreadable. Zoe felt a little uncomfortable under their scrutiny and looked away; they reminded her too much of another pair of blue eyes that had never failed to pierce her soul. Aiden’s eyes.

“How is your cheek?”

She looked up with surprise. “What?”

“Your cheek. The one the trader stuck.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, touching her cheek briefly. “You saw that?”

“And the timely trip you gave him,” he nodded with a small amused smile. “I am interested by your retaliation. What caused you to fight back while everyone else just stood there?”

She looked at him carefully, uncertain of why he was so interested but not wanting him to suspect her hesitation. “I suppose it is because I hated the shameful way he treated us. We are people, the same as he is. I can handle his degradation, but he did the same to children, young ones who cannot defend themselves. Somebody had to stand up to him.”

“And so you decided to become the whipping boy.”

She shrugged. “Nobody else was doing it.” She continued tersely, “And I suppose you support the cause of the slavers: Oppressing the poor and stealing away the unguarded.”

“You say that in ignorance; a barb that is meant to get under my skin.” Zoe was surprised by his voice; it had changed from impassive to cool and deliberate. Cormac stepped a little closer and his stance reminded Zoe of a cat: Casual and loose but ready for action at a moments notice. “Let me tell you something, Zoe. Nothing gets under my skin.”

She stared at him without saying anything for a long moment. Their gazes collided and fought for the upper hand. Zoe was tall—only an inch shy of six foot—but he was still several inches taller than she. His gaze was filled with a determination and inflexibility that rivaled her own, and she realized that under the calm exterior of a merchant was a man who could challenge and perhaps defeat her. She fought against the urge to look away, angry with herself for even thinking about backing down.

He finally broke the moment with a short, blunt laugh. “You are not slave material,” he said.

“And I don’t think that you’re knight in shining armor material, either,” she shot back sarcastically. “Rescuing the poor helpless damsel from the cruel slave trader by buying her…and then keeping her in bondage!”

“You resent me because of the power I have over you.”

She tightened her lips and didn’t reply.

His jaw was firm and his eyes unreadable as he turned toward the door. Without another word, he left, closing it firmly behind him. Zoe stood still for a moment, her temper cooling slowly. After waiting a moment in silence, she looked over at the bowl of still steaming soup.

Her stomach growled, loudly and insistently.

After a quick glance at the closed door, she hurried over to the bowl and plunged the spoon into it. The first bite tasted like paradise, slipping down her throat and warming her insides. The soup consisted of thick, tasty gravy with chunks of meat, potatoes, and carrots in it. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten so well. She finished the whole bowl in a matter of minutes and thirstily drank the water from the goblet that sat beside it.

She left the dishes on the tray and moved back to the bed, her stomach full and warm. While she was curious about the house was imprisoned in, she knew she had to take some time to think. No good plan was ever formed without sufficient preparation. She could explore the place later.

And she needed a good plan if she was ever going to escape from the tall, irritating merchantman who held her captive.