Read Online Ruled by Steel (The Ascension Series #3) by S.M. Reine - Free Book Online
Authors: S.M. Reine
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curled around a sign with a number on it, and she watched the proceedings with hunger in her eyes. Not greed, but actual hunger. Elise could sense the sparks of it within her.
To her right squatted another demon that could have passed for a woman, were she to stand upright rather than dragging her callused knuckles along the ground. The greenish tinge to her skin was also a dead giveaway. She wasn’t native to Dis—she was more likely something that had been born of an Earth spirit and immigrated.
“Name them for me,” Elise said, affixing her gaze to the stage. “The others.”
Devadas glanced around at the demons surrounding them. “The House holders?”
“Yes,” she said.
He swallowed audibly. It was quiet in the auction square, despite the number of people there; a frightened hush had fallen over them all under the watchful eye of the fissure, and nobody dared speak more than it took to complete their transactions.
“Gretchen,” he said, indicating the old-looking woman. “Her House is to the east, on the edge of the wastelands.”
“Does she have any influence in the Palace?” Elise asked.
“No, she withdrew from the Council some decades back and never reasserted control.”
“And?”
Devadas lowered his voice and leaned in close. “What else is there to know? She’s a recluse. She doesn’t keep an army in her House—only as many brute guards as it takes to keep her slaves and walls held. She relies primarily on witches for protection.”
“When she was on the Council, was she important? Would she have been involved in the Palace defenses?” Elise asked.
“No.”
No knowledge, no army—not interested.
Elise nodded to the squat, troll-like woman. “That one?”
“Nivue. Lives in Phlegethon, actually. I’m surprised to see her here.”
Which meant that she also wouldn’t know the Palace’s weaknesses.
Elise’s eyes swept over the crowd as the bidding on the current batch of slaves was completed. They had been sold to a tall, slender man that looked very much like the iron trees decorating the streets: brittle, angular, skin blacker than pitch. He wore no robes to hide his unnaturally gaunt form. He didn’t seem to be concerned with fashion, Earth or Hell. He had just purchased four women.
“That one?” Elise asked.
“The Dark Man isn’t a House holder,” Devadas said. He slipped behind Elise, almost as if he were trying to hide behind her. “He’s a wanderer.”
“Then where does he keep the slaves?”
“He doesn’t keep them.”
Elise watched the women march off the edge of the stage. One of them was sobbing, shoulders shaking, but the others were silent and resigned. The Dark Man didn’t look like a butcher or a tanner. They were going to be used for some other purpose. Something that didn’t require keeping slave quarters.
Her stomach churned. “Not my problem,” she muttered, returning her attention to the stage as another group was brought up. Three men, one woman. “Not my problem…”
Devadas’s tongue flicked against her ear. “What do you say, Father?”
She elbowed him, and not gently. “I wasn’t speaking to you. And don’t call me that in public.”
“My deepest apologies.”
Elise tried to pick out the sight of other significant figures in the crowd, but there were so few, and her eyes kept slanting to the left, where the slaves were being held for The Dark Man. Two of them were crying now. He circled them, performing a silent inspection. The way he moved was almost insect-like, though he only walked on two of his brittle legs.
The next group was purchased by a man with cloven hooves and thighs covered in silky feathers. Some kind of satyr, most likely, although the wattle trembling under his chin hinted at a heritage crossbred with something far more powerful.
Devadas supplied her with the information without needing to be prompted. “Vassago. He holds a House much smaller than yours just north of the Palace. He’s a
To her right squatted another demon that could have passed for a woman, were she to stand upright rather than dragging her callused knuckles along the ground. The greenish tinge to her skin was also a dead giveaway. She wasn’t native to Dis—she was more likely something that had been born of an Earth spirit and immigrated.
“Name them for me,” Elise said, affixing her gaze to the stage. “The others.”
Devadas glanced around at the demons surrounding them. “The House holders?”
“Yes,” she said.
He swallowed audibly. It was quiet in the auction square, despite the number of people there; a frightened hush had fallen over them all under the watchful eye of the fissure, and nobody dared speak more than it took to complete their transactions.
“Gretchen,” he said, indicating the old-looking woman. “Her House is to the east, on the edge of the wastelands.”
“Does she have any influence in the Palace?” Elise asked.
“No, she withdrew from the Council some decades back and never reasserted control.”
“And?”
Devadas lowered his voice and leaned in close. “What else is there to know? She’s a recluse. She doesn’t keep an army in her House—only as many brute guards as it takes to keep her slaves and walls held. She relies primarily on witches for protection.”
“When she was on the Council, was she important? Would she have been involved in the Palace defenses?” Elise asked.
“No.”
No knowledge, no army—not interested.
Elise nodded to the squat, troll-like woman. “That one?”
“Nivue. Lives in Phlegethon, actually. I’m surprised to see her here.”
Which meant that she also wouldn’t know the Palace’s weaknesses.
Elise’s eyes swept over the crowd as the bidding on the current batch of slaves was completed. They had been sold to a tall, slender man that looked very much like the iron trees decorating the streets: brittle, angular, skin blacker than pitch. He wore no robes to hide his unnaturally gaunt form. He didn’t seem to be concerned with fashion, Earth or Hell. He had just purchased four women.
“That one?” Elise asked.
“The Dark Man isn’t a House holder,” Devadas said. He slipped behind Elise, almost as if he were trying to hide behind her. “He’s a wanderer.”
“Then where does he keep the slaves?”
“He doesn’t keep them.”
Elise watched the women march off the edge of the stage. One of them was sobbing, shoulders shaking, but the others were silent and resigned. The Dark Man didn’t look like a butcher or a tanner. They were going to be used for some other purpose. Something that didn’t require keeping slave quarters.
Her stomach churned. “Not my problem,” she muttered, returning her attention to the stage as another group was brought up. Three men, one woman. “Not my problem…”
Devadas’s tongue flicked against her ear. “What do you say, Father?”
She elbowed him, and not gently. “I wasn’t speaking to you. And don’t call me that in public.”
“My deepest apologies.”
Elise tried to pick out the sight of other significant figures in the crowd, but there were so few, and her eyes kept slanting to the left, where the slaves were being held for The Dark Man. Two of them were crying now. He circled them, performing a silent inspection. The way he moved was almost insect-like, though he only walked on two of his brittle legs.
The next group was purchased by a man with cloven hooves and thighs covered in silky feathers. Some kind of satyr, most likely, although the wattle trembling under his chin hinted at a heritage crossbred with something far more powerful.
Devadas supplied her with the information without needing to be prompted. “Vassago. He holds a House much smaller than yours just north of the Palace. He’s a
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