A guardsman pulled Iltani closer to the center of the dais. She snarled at him, kicking his shins, and the men standing in line whistled and catcalled. Anyone who selected Iltani had better not close his eyes in sleep with her lying by his side. My heart ached for my friend, and I wanted to signal to her that all was well. We were going to save her. I tried to catch her eye, but she looked past me as my disguise intended her to do. I cursed it for preventing me from giving her some small measure of comfort.

But her eyes widened when she spotted Yashub. Frantically, she searched the crowds, squinting. Maybe she’d recognize Dagan’s big frame and see me. Maybe.

The guardsman laughed and held up his hands. “This one is beautiful, my good men, but she is a thrasher and needs to be tamed! Who is man enough to bring this wildcat to heel?”

No! Be quiet! Do not point her out!

The men let out a collective roar and raised their fists, their eyes lit with the challenge, save for the young priest in front of Yashub who waved his hands in disgust and selected a small, quiet girl near the back of the group instead. Stark resignation in her wide eyes, a look I’d seen often in the dying, she followed the priest away with a bowed head.

Wheezing, Yashub smiled triumphantly, and put his hand in the air. “And now I must select a bride!”

Iltani stepped forward, her face twisted in a false smile. “Choose me!” Desperation strained her voice. Hope bubbled up in my chest that we might save her from her awful fate.

Yashub reached forward for her bound hands, but as he did, Gala stepped in, a hand raised between them.

“Wait a moment,” he said to his fellow guardsman. “You’ve placed me behind this old trader, but are you sure you meant to do that?”

The men around him laughed and chided him.

Yashub shoved Gala. “Wait your turn, boy!”

“But what if I want this pretty woman?” Gala slapped Yashub’s shoulder good-naturedly, but his eyes were hard.

My heart lurched and I snaked a hand out to grab Dagan’s forearm. “How much did you put in Yashub’s purse to prove his wealth?”

“Thirty talents.”

“But what if that isn’t enough? Gala may have more.”

“He couldn’t. He can’t even afford a bride price, so there is no way. He isn’t a wealthy man.” Dagan cracked his big knuckles.

“Step back, boy! This one is mine!” Yashub growled, shoving Gala’s shoulder.

A different guardsman stepped up, his hand on his sicklesword and a frown on his face.

“Please!” A skinny man broke away from the group of fathers, his hands clasped as if in prayer, and I recognized him immediately. The certain tilt of his scruffy head. The way his scrawny shoulders sloped down on the right. It was the exact replica of Iltani from the back.