There was silence.
A young nobleman stepped out of the shadows. Oval eyes studied me from under his lavender turban. He had a round face with skin the color of honey. His eyes widened when he saw me. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you interfere with my slaves?”
My hands balled into fists as I pushed my magic back down. “Is this the way you treat the people who work for you? This girl is barely conscious.”
The nobleman lifted his chin. “She must be punished for daring to try to escape.” His beady brown eyes flashed in warning.
But I could not let this go. “A few more lashes and she could have died,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
The nobleman waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “Who cares what happens to her? She is of no consequence.”
Even though I knew slavery was rife in Brandor, I had never paid attention; I had allowed myself to be blind to this until now. It wasn’t my problem and I stayed out of it. But after seeing this girl and the suffering she’d endured, I realized that Illiador was not the only kingdom I had to save. I was the Dawnstar, the light that filled the world with magic. I could not let anyone—man, woman, or child—in any kingdom endure such cruelty as long as I could help it.
“Every person is of consequence,” I growled. “Your worth is not determined by your fancy clothes or the color of your skin. It is the choices you make and the way you treat people that show who you truly are.” I moved closer to the girl to shield her from his glare. “I suggest you let her go.”
“Never!” the young nobleman snarled, his hands on his hips.
The empty streets had started to fill up as the Brandorians woke to another day and started going about their business. Onlookers who had gathered were whispering among themselves.
I ignored him and moved to break the chains that held the girl. I could heal her back, but the internal scars would not fade so easily.
“Don’t touch my slaves,” the nobleman shouted. “Guards!”
Before I could free her, the guards moved toward me, their swords out, wariness flickering in their eyes.
I had had enough. I stood up slowly, my hands lighting up with silver fire. My eyes flashed with fury. “Try it and you’re dead.”
They stopped in their tracks. But the girl was not afraid of me; she stayed behind me as I faced the guards.
Tristan appeared beside me, twin swords blazing in his hands. “I thought we were going to keep a low profile, not announce to the whole city where we are,” he muttered under his breath.
The guards took a few steps back.
“I’m handling it,” I snapped.
“I can see that,” Tristan ground out, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
I shrugged. “We were going to leave this city soon anyway.”
The nobleman moved backward and stood behind one of the guards, shouting over his shoulder. “I said, seize her!”
“That is enough for today,” said a deep voice from somewhere within the crowd.
The onlookers parted immediately as another nobleman entered the fray. People started to bow and move out of the way for the crimson-turbaned nobleman. He was tall and well-built, towering over the red-faced shorter man. He had a sharp nose and deep-set brown eyes, slightly upturned at the corners. His short beard and mustache were clipped and neat, enhancing his full lips. His crimson robe was heavily embroidered with gold thread, and jewels twinkled on his fingers and on chains around his neck.
“But Prince Shiraz,” sputtered the lavender-turbaned nobleman, pointing at me. “She was interfering with my slaves.”
Prince Shiraz turned his eyes on me. “Was she now?”
“Aurora!” Penelope hurried over and whispered under her breath so only I could hear. “It is not your place to interfere with the internal workings of the kingdoms. Prince Shiraz is Darius Detori’s son. Izadora is going to be livid.”
“How could you condone such a barbarous practice?” I snarled at Penelope.
“It is the way things have always been in Brandor,” said Penelope softly. “I don’t condone it, but now is not the time to interfere and go around freeing slaves.”
I tried to keep my cool. “So when would it be a good time to free slaves, Penelope? After they have been beaten to death?”
Penelope looked straight at me. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
One of the crimson-clad guards whispered in Prince Shiraz’s ear, and I could see the fear in the guard’s eyes as he spoke to the emir’s son. I could tell some of them had recognized me. I had forgotten my turban and glamour when I leapt out of the window to help the girl. I had acted impulsively and knew my actions would have consequences, but I didn’t regret standing against slavery and saving the girl’s life.
More onlookers and guards had started milling around to get a better look. Shiraz Detori’s eyes widened as he looked me over, assessing me.
“My lord,” said one guard, terror showing plainly on his young face. “That’s Aurora Firedrake, the Shadowbreaker. They say she can kill a hundred Drakaar with one blow.”
I snorted and shrugged my shoulders. “True,” I said, and gave them all a wide grin. If people wanted to exaggerate my powers, I wasn’t going to argue. This was the way legends were created, and I needed to be larger than life if I was going to get people to follow me against Morgana.
“I don’t care!” The lavender-turbaned nobleman stomped his foot like a spoiled child. “My slave is mine to punish,” he screeched, picking up the slave master’s fallen whip.
Shiraz Detori caught the whip and flung it to the ground. “This slave doesn’t belong to you anymore, Berzaan.” His voice was low and calm, but his tone was one that was used to being obeyed.
“No!” Berzaan’s face
