Ayden raised his eyebrow at Arya, and she dropped her gaze in response. She'd been so taken back with his appearance, she had forgotten what it was like to be stared at it. She'd surely had enough of it herself recently with her white skin and dark hair. Her people were known for it. Almost everyone had pale skin, liken to the snowy landscape and deep, dark brown to black hair. No doubt she looked strange to him too.
When she glanced back at him again, his expression had changed. For some reason this scared her, she was tentative to hear his thoughts.
"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That simple," Ayden's voice was soft, and had an almost lilting tone to it, which gave it higher pitches. The gentle tones stood in stark contrast to his next words.
"Welcome to hell, Arya and Fredrick. My name is Ayden Neyon. And Zoë's right. Prepare for the worst."
Terror started to form in Arya's eyes as they flittered between both Zoë's and Ayden's faces. She turned to Ayden, silently begging him to take back his words.
Zoë winced visibly at her questions, and Arya had a bad sinking feeling, seeing neither of them were even slightly overreacting.
"You're going to be Bound."
Bound? That word again. The reason she was sold.
"You should be afraid. And I mean terrified. Tomorrow, you're going to be tossed out and forced to run away as fast as you can. You're going to be hunted. Hunted by probably me and definitely Fredrick here. If you get caught... Worse than death."
Arya visibly flinched, her face white. She'd believed it couldn't get worse, she glanced at Frederick and Ayden, but found no comfort there, only acceptance.
But if you prepare yourself now and you get away, you're free. Completely."
Free. She leaned heavily against the door, desperately trying to keep her face neutral, not wanting to reveal her emotions. Truly, what would she do it she was free? She had no one to go back to...her father had been killed in the on going war between her people and the Tarshans, and no doubt her brother too as the brief struggle for the village cam through...and her mother, enslaved or dead. Arya took in a shuddering breath forcing herself to ignore the meaning of the words until she was in private.
"Don't tell anyone I've told you any of this. I just wanted to warn you, and it's the second highest rule next to running off that you don't tip off the Bound or Hunters. And if I find out either of you snitched, I don't care how badly she beats me, I'm kicking ass."
Arya nodded mutely to Zoë's request, before the dress was pushed into her nerveless fingers. She almost dropped them, but managed to catch them just in time.
"Ayden, do what Miss Jones said and take Fredrick and Ayra to the slave bathrooms to clean up, then take them on a tour around the house. Set them to some easy tasks. Windows for Fredrick, he's tall. Floors for Ayra."
Floors. The word echoed flatly in her head, the only bit of information she wanted to consider. Her hands ached, and she realised she'd been clenching them in fists around the garment in her hands. Her head pounded painfully from lack of water, but she couldn't get herself to ask. Besides, it appeared the questions were over, and she wasn’t about to break the rules for talking. She glanced up at Ayden, her face now a white mask, though her eyes were still filled with terror, as much as she tried to hide it. All she wanted to do was curl up on one of the beds, and get some privacy, however she hadn't had the luxury of privacy since she'd left Anor and was forced to Tarsha on a ship. She thought wistfully of her own country, and tried to avoid thinking about her future.
"Worse than death."