“Oh, my dear!” Her mother had hugged Lan’ara tight.
“They sold her!” Lan’ara couldn’t get over it. “Her own parents! Sold her to that man to take away and sell to someone else as their bride!”
Her mother had understood without being told what Lan’ara was asking. She had tilted Lan’ara’s chin up and looked into her eyes seriously.
“That will never happen to you, Lanni my sweet,” she said, using the old childhood nickname that Lan’ara had outgrown not that long ago. “I will never sell any of my children. No matter what—this I vow to you.”
Lan’ara had hugged her tight, feeling warm and protected, feeling safe in the circle of her mother’s arms and the comfort of their well-to-do home. Ra’chell’s parents had been poor—they’d had no choice in the matter. But Lan’ara’s father was the supervisor of the best silk mill in town. Her parents would never have to resort to selling her—she was safe from such a sad fate, she told herself. Safe from being sold.
But now that fate has come upon me. And I go towards it willingly, Lan’ara thought as she looked at the sharp-eyed scout.
She felt oddly separated from herself as she asked if he would like to come and speak to her mother. It was as though her mind was floating a few feet above her body, watching as she led the Twyleth Tigg scout to their house, carefully picking her way over the rocks in the road as daintily as any fine lady.
“A fine enough dwelling,” he remarked when they got there. “I’m surprised you think your parents will be interested in my proposition.”
“My father. He…died.” The words still stuck in Lan’ara’s throat. It had been over a year ago but she still missed him—her big, happy, laughing father who had been so strong—too strong, she’d always thought, to ever get hurt…to ever die.
“Ah.” The scout nodded knowingly. “I see. No wonder you were selling jam.”
“There is little else a female can do to make ends meet,” Lan’ara pointed out. “My mother and I, we do our best, Sir. But I have four little brothers—all too young to work.”
“Mmm, I see.” He gave her another sharp look. “No wonder you invited me to your home instead of running the other way like most girls when they see me.”
“My mother won’t want to sell me,” Lan’ara said, still with that strange, detached feeling. “But I’ll go with you willingly if only you’ll give her enough to get by until my brothers are old enough to work and can help make ends meet.”
He nodded.
“Well, I think we can manage that. You’re quite a beauty with your buxom curves and long hair. Not to mention, that rare, creamy brown skin tone will be much admired. Yes, you’ll fetch quite a fair price once we give you some training in deportment and how to please a man.”
Lan’ara nodded meekly though his words turned her stomach.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “Let me fetch my mother.”
Her mother, of course, didn’t want to let her go.
“Not for any price!” she cried, holding Lan’ara tight to her as Lan’ara’s four little brothers watched with wide eyes from the porch. “My Lanni, I swore I’d never sell you. Never!”
“Mother, you need the money,” Lan’ara protested. “This gentle-male has promised to give you enough to live on until Jordie and Howie are old enough to earn.”
“But Lanni…” Her mother’s dark, gold-flecked eyes, so like her own, were filled with tears.
“There’s no other way. You know it and I know it,” Lan’ara said gently, though inside her heart was breaking. “Please, let me go and take the money. Otherwise we’ll all starve this winter—you know we barely made it through the last and that was back when you still had a bit of savings that Da had put by.”
She saw the truth register in her mother’s eyes, but there was stubbornness there too. She looked at the scout.
“What will happen to my daughter, if I let you take her to that fancy academy of yours?” she demanded harshly, keeping her arms wrapped firmly around Lan’ara as she spoke.
“She’ll be trained in all the social graces. Dancing, deportment, light conversation pleasing to a man,” the scout said blandly. “After four years she’ll be displayed at our annual Display of Beauty Ball and bid on by nobles and rich merchants from all over the galaxy. She may end up as a love slave or a concubine but with beauty like hers, it’s possible she could become a second or even a first wife—maybe even to a very important man.”
“A love slave,” her mother whispered, horror filling her eyes.
“Or a wife,” Lan’ara said quickly. “Please Mother, it won’t be so bad a life. And I’ll do it gladly as long as I know you and the little ones are safe and well-fed back here at home.”