I know where we are, although only from having seen it on video screens. I feel my face grow hot with impotent anger. Jasmine’s touch is gentle enough not to cause my welts too much discomfort, but she’s inexorably determined and insistent enough to awaken me. Then seems to abruptly admit defeat. It’s a deep red color, the shade of wine, and it’s ruler-straight, never showing the least trace of a curl. Again I try to appeal to her conscience, mournfully telling her, “It would have been kinder if you’d killed me, bounty hunter.”
This, she doesn’t deny. It takes two fully grown men to bring in the reward for selling me into slavery. Females only go there when they’re lost, and on their way to be processed and sold by the Slavers. It is natural that my next question is, “How did you know the code to get in here?” and it should be a straightforward answer, whatever it might be, but Leesha looks uncomfortable for the first time. We’re now only a foot apart. Gods help me, must I really answer? “I’ve not noticed anything.”
She looks at
