The chains that bound your hands tightened in Faolan’s grasp, pulling you back to his side. You were never allowed more than three steps ahead, as much for your safety as his peace of mind. Greedy eyes followed your every move, selfish hands ready to snatch you away at a moment’s notice. And Faolan would have let them too, if he wasn’t in dire need of coin.

Thanks to your beauty and renown, light elves sold for a decent price—or at least that’s what Faolan’s friends told him. He’d never been in the business of hunting the more agreeable half of his species until his sister fell ill. She was his one weakness, his reason behind everything he did.

It had been no secret that dark elves had been kidnapping light elves with increasing frequency. It was just poor timing and bad luck that your caravan had been the first Faolan spotted under the cover of night, when you thought it was safest to travel, no doubt.

When your foot caught on a loose cobblestone, guilt tightened his throat like a noose. You stumbled, hurtling towards the dirty street. “None of that,” Faolan chided, his hand wrapping around your arm just before you hit the ground. “The better condition I present you in, the more coin I get. So walk straight and mind your step.”