Sable’s POV
I'm standing on a line with eleven other slave women, barefoot and oiled and waiting to be picked by a gladiator to be f****d brutally.
Three days ago I had a home, and younger siblings I could give the world to, and a father who I didn’t realize had grew tired of me. Then the debts caught up and the collectors came and my father sold me for fourteen silver pieces without looking at my face while he counted.
That's the price he sold his eldest daughter. Less than a horse, and more than a goat.
I haven't cried since. Rage is more useful than tears and I've got enough of it to burn this arena to the ground if someone handed me a match.
I watch as the gladiator pulls his sword from his opponent's throat and turns toward the crowd. Ten thousand people scream his name.
“Kael!
