SOLD
Chapter 4
ROYANNA
“Orphelia,” I called as my eyes fluttered open, my gaze darted around, wondering where I was. The air smelled heavily of herbs and smoke.
I lifted my arm, attempting to sit up, but a sharp pain pulled me down. My hand fell to my side. I bit my lips to ease the pain that traveled through my arms.
I remembered everything that happened, but there was no memory of how I left the woods.
The creaking sound of the door pulled my attention towards it. My mother walked into the room accompanied by my father and Pa Jerold, the pack's healer.
Only then did I realize I was in one of the healer's recovery rooms.
“Mother…”
“Shut up!” She yelled so loud, I jerked in my bed. Her eyes were wide and red with fury, her nose flared up, as she stared daggers at me.
“You witch!” She scoffed, “This was your plan, to have your sister killed right?” My mother raised her fingers accusatorily at me. “You were so jealous of her future that you chose to take her from us.”
“No.” I shook my head, tears escaping my eyes and falling down my temples. “ I swear, I did not m–mean any harm.” I choked on my tears, afraid to move my aching body.
“You did not mean harm, but we found your sister, unconscious and nearly dead.” A tear escaped my mother's eyes, “Her beautiful skin and face, it's all ruined by claw marks, her arms, her legs. You ruined her!” She yelled, launching at me, I shot my eyes, waiting for her to strike me, but nothing came.
My lips trembled as I opened my tear-filled eyes, spilling out more tears. My father was holding her back, he whispered something into her ears and her raised shoulders relaxed.
She glanced at me, pure hatred evident in her gaze. “ I wish you were never born, Royanna, I wish you everything horrible in this life. I wish you death!”
I gasped, sobs tearing out of my throat. “Mother.”
She spat at me and stormed out of the room, my father following behind her.
I cried until my eyes grew heavy. Regret and guilt kept eating at my chest. This is what I deserve, my mother's curse. I ruined Orphelia's life, I ruined everything.
TWO DAYS LATER…
It had been two days since I last saw my parents. I knew they were still here in this healer's abode, because Orphelia was still unconscious since the night we were brought in.
The healer's servants kept whispering about her condition, while I pretended not to listen.
Each second that passed, my guilt grew. I craved to see my sister and know how she was faring. I also wanted to apologize to her, tell her how disappointed I was in myself, knowing I couldn't protect her.
I was doing well in my recovery, the pain had stopped, my wounds had closed up leaving only scars behind.
Pa Jerold was surprised, but he didn't question how fast I was able to heal. He was a part of the villagers who still believed I was a witch, even after a series of magic tests.
My door opened for the second time and I expected the healer's servants to walk in, but instead it was my father.
My heart skipped a beat as I rose from my bed. “Father,” I called, unsure of what to feel: happy, sad, or scared.
He approached me and gently placed his hands on my shoulder, “Come with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for protest.
Confused and weary, I followed him and he led me outside. The moon was shining brightly in the sky, the night air was cool upon my skin, and the scent of horses and spices made my stomach churn.
Three men were outside the healer's abode, two carriages and a moving bar cell clinging to four horses.
These men were clothed in cloaks that looked heavy and foreign; they had saddlebags with them, filled with goods, I guessed.
Merchants.
I gulped, as their gazes met mine. A shiver crawled down my spine, realizing they were here to take me.
“Father please.” I whimpered, grabbing my father's arm, but he shoved my hand and turned to the men.
“She's here.” He announced and the men exchanged glances, a smile tugging at their lips.
Tears filled my eyes again. Just then, my mother stepped out, and she stared at the merchants before looking in my direction.
Her face twisted into a scowl, “Why is she still here?”
“Calm down, Ivy. They are here for her.” My father replied.
“50.” One of the merchants said and my father frowned.
“We agreed on 200.” He countered, grabbing my arm and pushing me forward.
“She's a witch. Do you know how dangerous it is to be seen transporting a witch?”
“I am not a witch…” A glare from my father stole the rest of my words.
Ignoring me, the merchant continued, “We could lose our decree and be sent to prison. Take 50, and we will use the rest to bribe border soldiers into letting us pass with that thing,” he pointed at me, a smirk playing on his lips.
Bastard!
Silence followed, and my father was contemplating his decision. He was really contemplating selling off his own daughter.
“We will take it.” My mother's voice boomed from behind, causing me to tilt and stare at her. She really meant it; her face was so cold, and her eyes were filled with so much hatred that I could feel it.
“Yes, we will take it.” My father replied in agreement. One of the merchants threw a small pouch at him. “50 gold coins, you can count it if you wish.”
It was over, no going back now. I had been sold to strangers from unknown lands, and they had succeeded in getting me out of their lives. But what about Orphelia? I can't leave now, knowing I will never see her again.
“I want to see Orphelia before I leave.” I turned to my father and said. Biting my cheek to suppress a sob.
“No, Royanna. Never! You have caused us enough damage already.” My mother came up to my face, motioning toward the merchants. “Leave, you don't belong here anymore.”
“I want to say goodbye,” I said in a low tone.
“She doesn't need your goodbye. Leave before you ruin our lives further.”
“The least you can do is let me see her. Please, just a few minutes.”
“Get her out of here!” Mother yelled, and footsteps followed.
Rough hands grabbed my shoulder, they tried to pull me away, but something inside me snapped.
I shoved them back with all my strength. “No!” I screamed, darting toward the healer’s house before anyone could stop me. My heart pounded in my chest as I burst through the door.
I ran down the narrow hall, unsure of which room she was being kept in. I stopped a servant passing by, “Where can I find Orphelia Zerati?” The servant pointed to the end of the hallway, “The last room.”
I darted forward, stopping before the door to the last room. I pushed it open, and there she lay still, on a small bed. My chest tightened painfully.
“Ophelia…” My voice broke as I stumbled to her side. Her face was pale, her lips cracked, her once-bright eyes closed as if the world had stolen all her light. “No, no, no…” I sank to my knees beside her, gathering her limp body into my arms.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry… this is all my fault,” I whispered against her cold skin. “ I should have protected you, I should have left you at home. I am so sorry Orphelia. Please forgive me.”
I stared at her face, and then I saw them, the scars. Jagged lines etched across her delicate arms and face were a cruel reminder of my failure.
My heart shattered. These marks… they would haunt her forever. They would make her life harder, take away choices that should have been hers. Because of me.
“No,” I breathed, my fingers trembling as they brushed over the wounds. “I wish I could fix this,” I said, pressing my hand gently against one of the scars, just wanting to comfort her…
But then a warmth sparked beneath my palm, soft at first, and it grew, spreading across.
I gasped, jerking my hand back as the scar melted away, gone, as if it had never been there.
“What…” My voice trembled. I stared at my hands, glowing faintly before the light faded into nothing.
I didn’t understand, but there was no time to think.
I placed both hands on her arms, on every mark, every wound, and the warmth returned, stronger this time.
Light spilled from my fingertips, curling like golden threads, weaving her skin whole again. Ignoring the tears streaming down my face, I kept it up, until every last scar vanished.
And then… her chest rose in a soft, steady breath. Color bloomed faintly in her cheeks.
Relief flooded me, breaking something loose inside my chest. “Ophelia,” I whispered, clutching her hands. “I am so, so sorry.”
But the moment was shattered when the door slammed open.
“Royanna!” My mother’s voice was sharp with fury. Behind her were the merchants; they strode in with long strides.
“No! Wait…” I barely had time to cry out before rough hands seized my arms. I kicked, I clawed, my fingers stretching toward Ophelia as they dragged me away.
“Let me go! Please, she needs me!” My screams echoed through the healer’s house. But they didn’t listen. They hauled me outside, shoving me into the merchants’ cell as if I were nothing more than cargo.
The bars were shut and sealed. I grabbed the bars, trying to reach my father, who had followed them outside.
He sai
d nothing and just stood there with an unmistakable ease on his face. The cell jerked, and soon it began to move; everything slowly went out of sight.
