Kyva was jolted back to reality when the madame's hand seized her arm.
She barely had time to brace herself before she was yanked forward, her breath catching as the veil was torn from her face.
A soft gasp rippled through the hall, and she felt it immediately. The weight of their attention. Hundreds of eyes fixed on her like she was something to be inspected, to be evaluated and priced. She stood frozen beneath their scrutiny, like a doll propped up for viewing.
Under the lantern light, what the noblemen saw was a beautiful girl. Her skin looked luminous, and her lips, full and red, trembled despite her effort to remain still. Her wide blue eyes, bright with unrestrained fear, only deepened the impression of vulnerability. Her dark hair spilled in soft waves down to her waist, and the thin fabric of her dress did little to conceal the shape of her body. In the eyes of the nobles gathered, she was the definition of exquisite beauty.
Kyva felt nothing but exposed under their lecherous stare.
Small.
Powerless.
She gasped quietly as the madame forced her into another step, presenting her to the gathered crowd.
"I see many of you have already taken notice of this particular treasure," the Madame said with a knowing smile. Her fingers tightened slightly around Kyva's arms, a silent warning that she should stay still and follow instructions.
Kyva forced herself to obey.
The madame continued smoothly, "The girl is untouched and unmarked. One of you may be the first to claim her," her voice turned playful. "A beauty like this, entirely yours to enjoy. Doesn't she sound sweet? Imagine what she sounds like once you have her up in your bed, pushing right into her tight little hole."
What followed the disgusting phrase was the sudden pull at her hair. It made Kyva gasp before she could stop it, the pain stinging her eyes. The sound carried through the hall, and she heard the crowd react exactly as the madame intended, their imagination already running ahead of reality.
"Though I must warn you, she has spirit. She does not yield easily."
Laughter rose in response.
To them, it was merely entertainment.
But to Kyva, it was humiliation carefully performed for their approval.
Heat burned behind her eyes, but she forced herself to stay still. She would not give them another reaction, though the madame's fingers remained tangled in her hair, reminding her that she had no choice but to stand and endure.
'Think.'
Her heart pounded so violently she was certain they could hear it.
"If she's not disciplined," a voice called from somewhere within the crowd, edged with irritation, "how are we to ensure her obedience? There is a reason we prefer the broken ones beforehand. I have no desire to waste my coin taming what should already be tamed."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall, and Kyva's breath hitched.
For a fleeting, fragile moment, hope stirred in her chest. Perhaps they would see her as too troublesome. Too difficult to be worth the effort.
Perhaps they would reject her.
But the madame only laughed softly, the sound warm and reassuring, though not to Kyva. She tried to free her hair from the woman's firm grip, her hands rising instinctively, but before she could reach it, the woman caught her iron cuffed wrist. Her fingers forced Kyva into place without struggle, but she let go of her hair.
"Tempers can be corrected," the madame said sweetly, her grip tightening just enough to make her nails dig into Kyva's skin, drawing out blood, "you are welcome to discipline her however you see fit."
Her approval made Kyva's eyes burn with frustration, but it was of no use. These people would not help anyone let alone someone like her.
"But I assure you," the madame continued, her smile never faltering, "she has already been properly handled. She will not cause you any inconvenience. You may take my word for it."
With that, Kyva felt the last fragile thread of hope snap. The Madame released her hand at last, stepping forward with elegant composure.
"Now," she announced, "we shall begin the bidding."
"Fifty gold."
The first number rang out like a hammer against stone, and Kyva felt her stomach drop.
"Seventy."
"Eighty."
"Eighty-five."
The voices overlapped, calm and casual, as though they were discussing livestock or wine.No one raised their voices, or showed urgency. Their wealth spoke for them.
"One hundred."
A ripple of interest passed through the crowd. That number held weight.
The madame's smile deepened. "One hundred gold. Do I hear higher?"
"One hundred and twenty."
The bid came from a 'heavyset' noble in embroidered crimson, his fingers heavy with glittering rings. His lecherous gaze did not linger on Kyva's face alone, but it trailed lower, already undressing her mentally.
Kyva fought the urge to recoil.
But the bidding was far from finished.
"One hundred and fifty."
This time it was a taller man, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark military uniform. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.
A commander, perhaps?
"One hundred and seventy."
"Two hundred."
The room shifted at that.
Two hundred gold was no small sum. Even the murmuring quieted, replaced by careful, weighing silence.
The madame's eyes gleamed. "Two hundred gold. An exceptional offer. Surely such beauty warrants more?"
The silence stretched.
Kyva dared to hope, just barely, that it would end there.
"Two hundred and twenty."
The voice that spoke was unremarkable.
The noble in crimson frowned, clearly irritated by his competitor. "Two hundred and forty."
Kyva's heart pounded as she watched the bidding. Did they truly have nothing better to do with such wealth than spend it on a stranger's life?
"Three hundred."
This time, the reaction was immediate.
Gasps broke through the hall.
Even the madame's composure faltered, surprise flashing briefly in her eyes before her smile returned, brighter than ever.
Three hundred gold.
The noble in crimson scoffed under his breath but said nothing more. The military officer remained still, apparently unwilling to climb higher.
The Madame lifted her chin.
"Three hundred gold," she called. "Do I hear another?"
But there was silence.
"Three hundred, going once."
Kyva's fate balanced on the edge of each word.
"Going twice. Sold!"
The madame's gaze shifted toward the winner, warm and satisfied as she said, "congratulations, captain."
Before Kyva could even see the face of the man who had purchased her for the night, a firm grip closed around her arm. She was pulled away from the stage, the lights and murmuring crowd dissolving behind her as the door shut with a dull thud.
They led her down a narrow corridor, taking about three turns. Then they stopped at another door.
It opened to a small room.
After being shoved inside by two courtesans, the door closed behind her, the sound of the latch settling into place. It echoed far louder than it should have, but at least she was alone.
Using whatever strength her body could muster, she forced herself to her rise so she could take a look around.
The air inside the room was warmer, thick with the scent of wood and oil hanging from a lantern. Something sweet, almost intoxicating lingered in the air, but in her distress, Kyva paid no heed to it. Rough timber walls enclosed the space, and a narrow bed stood against one side, covered in furs, its presence less comforting than it should have been. Aside from the bed, there was nothing else in the room.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint crackle of the lantern flame.
Kyva spotted the already jammed window reinforced with wood, and although she knew it would not budge, she could not help but test her luck. Crossing over to the window, she tried it, and her fingers strained against the frame.
As expected, it did not move.
'Should I just pass out?' she thought, but then shook her head as she remembered the punishment that came with fooling the establishment.
But what could she possibly do?
Her pulse quickened as her mind searched for another desperate possibility—
But the door opened.