I use the next twenty minutes or so diligently washing and scrubbing my dress in the river. I won’t have time to dry it before the Exchange. The air is humid, and drying would take most of the day. So I just conceal myself behind the nearest shack and quickly slip the dress on. The wet fabric is heavy and clings to my body. Water drips from my hair and I must look a big mess, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I change my rubber boots for a pair of flat shoes and leave for the Exchange.
The meeting square is a large open space in the middle of the village. A few dozen servants have already arrived, each waiting nervously to be sold. I stop, looking them over. Gathered there are other pickers, factory workers and guards. I don’t like crowds. I always feel small and cornered when I’m around too many people. I spot Master Dimitri and head over toward him.
“Goodness,” he says, staring at me. “What happened to you?”
“I fell into the river,” I answer.
Dimitri frowns, obviously disbelieving my explanation.
“Did those factory girls bother you again?” he asks.
I shake my head negatively. I never snitch about their attacks, always preferring to deal with problems on my own. And no, it’s not because I’m brave or too proud. Complaining about things would simply direct more hatred my way.
“I slipped in the mud and fell into the river,” I repeat.
Dimitri sighs and orders me to get in line with the others. I notice Trent, and take my place beside him, grinning foolishly. He smirks, then lightly touches my hand. I freeze, my thoughts racing. Why did he do that? What does it mean? How should I react? I always tend to overthink and overanalyze other people’s actions way too much. I force myself to relax and simply enjoy holding Trent’s hand.
Dimitri barks at the servants to keep quiet. He’s no longer the soft, father-like Dimitri I spoke with earlier in the morning. He looks more like a military general now, all forceful and strict. The first vehicles carrying masters from Central Settlement arrive, and I rise up on my tip-toes to catch a glance at them. I’ve never seen cars like these before… I’ve never met any masters from Central Settlement, aside from Augusta and Dimitri. They appear like strange beautiful creatures to me, almost too good to be real. They wear clean, expensive clothing and are adorned with gold jewelry and leather shoes. Their skin is deeply tanned, all smooth and clear. My face is pale as the sun never shines in our village, being blocked by thick clouds and toxic fumes.
I straighten my back in a feeble attempt to seem less miserable, then decide that this way I may look too arrogant. Nobody wants to buy a rebellious slave. So I relax my muscles back into a slouched position. The masters walk along our line, completely ignoring me. It’s not too surprising. I’m not beautiful and don’t appear strong. I stand motionless, except for my slightly trembling hands. Trent squeezes my fingers in friendly support.
The masters select a few factory girls for housemaids, to bring food, make beds and run errands. All those chosen are prettier and healthier looking than me. They all seem to have long thick hair, nice skin and well-developed bodies. These are not only good workers but will also make beautiful ornaments for any master’s mansion. I can easily envision them wearing their cute new uniforms, carrying trays filled with food and glasses of wine. I’ve never actually met a maid from Central Settlement, but believe they must look stunning.
I’m becoming envious and angry, feeling like I’ve been cheated. It’s not my fault that my hair is only shoulder length and rather thin. Or that I have these permanent dark circles under my eyes that almost look like bruises. Neither should I be blamed if I’m too bony. They could easily count my ribs through my skin, even though I eat regularly. So nobody believes I’m strong enough. Nobody wants me for a house ornament. And I do understand how many girls speak in a similar manner about their appearance, belittling themselves just to receive a compliment. In my case though, I’m just stating the facts. I’m not charming, beautiful or sweet-looking. I’m rather plain and gloomy, a depressed expression constantly on my face.
An hour passes as I anxiously watch the last remaining masters walk the line of unpurchased servants. The very real possibility of staying in this village for another year is making me ill. My throat tightens as I think of spending more time sorting through waste, breathing in the reek of chemicals and decay. I think of Samantha and her coven of witches calling me names, hating on me, always trying to hurt me. I don’t want to face them ever again. And I don’t want to remain a lowly trash picker. I can’t spend another day in this awful place. If I’m not chosen today, if nobody is willing to buy me, then… what then? Run off and join the roamers? They might kill me on sight just as Dimitri said.
Losing any hope for a better future, I glance down the line and suddenly see the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever laid eyes on. The young tall master strolls slowly past the servants, carefully checking them over. He has long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes, his facial features perfectly symmetrical. He looks like an angel or a gallant hero from one of Augusta’s old books.
I can’t stop staring at him. He catches my gaze and our eyes lock for a moment. I quickly turn away.
“Gabriel,” Trent whispers. “The high master’s son from Central Settlement. He’s visited our Factory a couple times before.”
Gabriel, I repeat in my mind, Prince Gabriel. It’s not
