The collar is cold.
Iron, leather, and old blood.
It presses against my throat like a reminder: princess no more.
It digs into the soft place between my throat and my jaw. Ready to snap my neck in half if I resist too much. I don't touch it. I won't give them the satisfaction. The cell I am in is cold, damp, and silent. The only noise is the ragged breathing of the others in their cells and the occasional footsteps of vampire guards.
The holding cells beneath the Blood Palace are filled with fear. I can almost taste it. The clinking noise to my right causes me to look over in curiosity. A girl is trying to take her chains off, but it is no use. She looks at me and I mouth the words: please don't.
The vampires are not a merciful bunch.
Even if we are considered Royal Crimson slave status by the Blood King, the other vampires won't hesitate to abuse us if we step out of line. Some can handle it. Though it is better to play it safe for now. Of course, that is because some of us are very close to freedom.
The Royal Slave Auction.
My hands tighten at the thought. I lean back against the cold stone wall while sighing. The vampire nobles will be able to choose some of us as their personal slaves. The ones chosen will get to live in their house, be fed properly, and be under the protection of their master.
However, the consequence is that blood will be taken from them whenever their vampire master needs or wants it from them. They can consume as much as they want, unless it's life-threatening to the slave.
One of the few rights we get as humans.
I hear a girl cough three cells down. It sounds pretty dry. Every few days, I see her face when I pass her cell to use the restroom escorted by the vampire guards. Last time I saw her, she looked pretty bad. If she doesn't get chosen tonight, she might not make it.
I clench my jaw.
They don't know who I used to be. None of them do. The vampires think I am just another high-quality blood resource to be given to a noble to sink their teeth into. They don't know I used to be a princess who used her influence to help others. That I was raised in a palace that doesn't exist anymore. That my last name once meant something.
Now I'm just Aurora.
Correction, just the number Sixteen.
That's the number that hangs from my collar. Reduced to a number.
Footsteps echo through the corridor, getting louder and louder. I don't look up. I know who it is just by gut instinct. The handler. A vampire with no noble house who likes to remind all of us how much stronger he is just because he's a vampire.
The lock to my cell clicks open. His shadow stands over me.
"Stand," he orders.
I don't move. His boot thuds against the ground as he walks over to me. I don't have time to react. The collar glows, white-hot, full of vampiric magic. Agony licks down my spine. It's not fire. It feels like my bones are breaking.
The handler smirks as I stand up.
I scowl as I listen to him. I will let him think he is in control for now.
He drags me through a corridor lit by blood-crystals. The soft crimson glow adds to the horror of the situation. The further away we get from the cells, the warmer the air gets. I can smell perfume. We pass two girls who are flanked by vampire guards.
One is crying silently. The other is nicely dressed with makeup on. Her eyes look distant and empty. She must've been chosen by a vampire. However, she is probably not looking forward to what she may have to do for him.
"Big night," the handler tells me as we reach the final prep room before being shown to the auction. "The Blood King brought some very important guests. Pure-Bloods from his bloodline."
I stop walking.
He shoves me forward. "What?"
"Who?" I ask.
The handler chuckles. "You really don't know anything, do you? The most powerful Grand Duke, Xavier Bloodstone, is in attendance tonight. The King invited him special and all the vampire nobles are going crazy over it."
My throat tightens.
I've heard that name before. They say he is cold, threatening, and always gets what he wants from others. That he doesn't need to drink blood often, because one taste from him burns the soul out of you. Many vampires choose to opt to drink from chalices. The rumor going around is that the Grand Duke prefers to drink it raw straight from his fangs.
They say he has never owned a human before, despite everyone telling him to get one.
Not until tonight.
The handler pushes me onto the stage as the curtain still hasn't gone up yet. He adjusts my number tag on my collar. I yank my chin away with some satisfaction as I make it harder on the handler to do his job.
I hear laughter and the clink of glasses on the other side of the curtain. A few more moments later, the curtain is thrown open. Light pours onto the stage and I have to look away from everything for a few seconds to let my eyes adjust. When I look back, I see an enormous auditorium full of high-ranking nobles studying me.
I look to the left and right of me. A few other girls and guys stand next to me, equal distance apart, as the handler makes his announcement. Each slave has their own number displayed on their collar just like mine.
The handler goes through each number. I watch as each girl and guy before me gets chosen by a vampire or rejected to head back to the cells. Then it becomes my turn.
"Any takers for Sixteen? Going once! Going twice!"
A hand goes up in the audience. Then two more hands go up. The vampires that chose me stand up to confront each other. There can only be one owner per slave. They start to squabble until a commanding loud voice shouts out loud, making them shut up instantly.
"She is mine. Go against me and find out what happens."
I turn to look at the voice in the crowd who said that. Everyone gasps. It is none other than Grand Duke Bloodstone himself. Tall. Broad. Dressed in black noir with a crimson scarf at his throat. His hair dark as midnight, slicked back to reveal sharp cheekbones and cruel lips.
He smirks as he notices me looking at him.