Their ShadeDaughters of Olympus

by Charlie Hart

  The man Kate had run from, the one she’d been sold to, had been well past sixty. A wealthy banker who bought and sold wives like thoroughbred horses. None of whom, to his violent disappointment, had given him a child. When she’d learned that he had plans to sell her to one of his business partners, Kate fled.

  “Aren’t they positively delicious.” She giggles, dark eyes roaming the room. “They look good enough to eat.”

  I force a smile and nod, unable to share her enthusiasm. She isn’t wrong about their looks. More than a few faces have caught my eye. But they’re still men. And I’ve never known a good, true man in my life.

  Am I so naive to think I would find one now? And not just one honorable man-but six?

  “Look at the redhead in the corner. He keeps staring at you,” Lilah says on the other side of me. “I bet his ticket is for you. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  She gives a little sigh, wearing her heart, and her life on her sleeve.

  We’ve given up everything for a chance at a real life of our own. Once I crossed the border into Alaska, we came under the protection of this state. We’re safe. Or as safe as I’ll ever be.

  I know people are already looking for me. Men of means and power.

  My father.

  Lawson.

  The odds of me truly escaping are next to none. But I’d rather die in this cold barren wasteland fighting for a freedom I’ve never known, than spend the rest of my life as someone’s property.

  If I hadn’t run, I’d be sold to the highest bidder. Living a life of luxury, sure, but I wouldn’t have been my own person in any right. I would have been beholden to a man who believes the lies the government spreads. That there is no way out of the predicament the world has found itself in. A man who saw me as nothing more than a commodity, to be bought and sold at will.

  But here, it will be different. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, because there’s no turning back now.

  The redhead that Lilah mentioned does watch me from across the room. He’s a mountain of a man, with a dark auburn beard, and kind eyes that smile at me when he sees me staring back.

  It’s a look I’m not used to. Not just lust and a desire to possess, but respect. And it gives me a flicker of hope.

  For years, I’d heard the rumors about the wild men of the north, and the community they had built. A place where women were honored and cherished.

  And free.

  I want to taste that freedom. Swim in it. I want to duck my head under fresh spring water and come up for air, having lived...and loved.

  Maybe, of the six men, one will come to love me, and I him. And that’s something that causes hope to stir in my chest.

  From my position on the stage, I glance out at a sea of faces. A few others catch my gaze, including a pair of intense, light blue eyes that watch me from the back of the room, close to the red-headed man.

  He’s...gorgeous. The man drags long fingers through short, dark blonde hair, then roughs his palm over the slightly darker scruff that coats his jaw.

  I should pull my gaze away. But I don’t. He holds my attention. His entire demeanor commanding, and I have no doubt he’s someone high up around here. But he’s still young enough to be included in the lottery, and I wonder just how many tickets he’s entered. And if any are for me.

  I shiver under his gaze, and let myself have a brief second of hope that his name will be called.

  Doors shut around the now full room. The lottery is about to begin, and I feel the tension of the men mounting. There are a few who look bored, leaning against the back wall, hands crossed over their large chests. But most have an intensity to their gaze that tells me that they’re just as invested as I am.

  They know nothing about me, other than I’ve been confirmed healthy and fit by the medical board, and the fake back story I gave when I got here. I know I broke a dozen laws by lying, but even though they swore protection no matter who I was, or who I was running from, I knew anonymity was my only option.

  Christina Thorne is dead, and Hypatia Curie is born in the wild Alaskan wilderness. I chose the name in honor of two women of science I always admired and respected. The mathematician, Hypatia of Alexandria, and the renowned physicist Marie Curie.

  “May I have your attention.” An older man, wearing a decorated military uniform announces that the lottery is about to begin, and a murmur runs throughout the room.

  I let out a shaky breath.

  There’s no turning back now.

  I’m really doing this.

  It’s insane. An act of desperation. But it’s my only choice.

  The man with the microphone calls my name first, and I’m instructed to move forward on the stage, but I feel my feet cemented in place. Terror of what comes next glues me to the ground.

  Six husbands. I am not prepared for this. In my twenty-one years, I’ve never even kissed a man.

  “It’s okay,” Kate whispers, giving my hand one last squeeze before letting it go. “You’re safe here.”

  “It’s all right,” Lilah whispers, her sugary sweet voice so foreign to my ears. Where I am jaded, she is smooth. “This is better than it could have been. This is a choice, remember? Your choice.”

  How this fragile woman is now the strong one is beyond me. On the boat ride here, she was a jumble of emotions. But now, on stage, she has composed herself. Now it’s me who’s a mess.

  Kate, wearing rose-colored glasses since the moment we met, leans in to whisper, “This isn’t an auction, it’s a lottery. It’s our destiny, Tia.”

  I smooth down my white bridal gown as the man motions me with an impatient gesture to step forward. When I do, I hear a murmur of appreciation from the men. I lower my chin, my breasts pushed up high in this satin dress. The material cinches tight on my waist. In this gown there is no disguising the woman my men will receive.

  Here I am, on display, for all to see. This is everything I wanted to avoid. I never wanted to be a prize. I don’t want to be won. I want a man to earn my affection. I want to be treasured and adored. I want to be more than a wife who was bought.

  I want to be chosen.

  More afraid than I’ve ever been in my life, I blink back tears, and straighten my shoulders.

  My choice.

  Exhaling slowly, I glance back at Kate and Lilah who look at me with encouraging smiles. I’m not alone.

  In this new world, women stick together. We have to. It was only by the kindness of strangers, seeing my plight, sheltering and hiding me, that I managed to get here at all. A small pink ribbon hanging in the front window of a home, a symbol that it was a safehouse.

  But in Alaska every house is safe. At least that’s the line we bought coming here.

  My hands tremble as the announcer runs through the list of my abilities and talents, and I nearly choke when he mentions my culinary skills. Despite all my tutors’ frustrated efforts to make me a proper housewife, my only real passion was science - is science. I know if I was just given the chance, I could make a real difference in finding a way to reverse the population crisis. But that wasn’t my fate.

  And I don’t think fate is going to intervene on my behalf now.

  I lift my eyes, wishing my distrust in everyone and everything could be replaced with some of the warmth Lilah and Kate possess. How I wish my hard edges were soft lines. But I need to keep my guard up until I meet my husbands.

  This night has just begun. I have no idea what they will expect of me once we leave the safety of this meeting hall. But I have an idea. I shiver in both fear and anticipation.

  A man, announced as The Director comes onto the stage. A silver-haired man in his early sixties, he carries a bronze, decorated antique looking device that’s a contrast to the unornamented, concrete walled room, with its high-tech security system.

  His gaze lingers and narrows for a moment on me before moving on.

  After he sets the bronze device, a wire ball filled with slips of paper, on a pedestal at one side of the stage, a ceremoni
al speech is read, then the Director gives the ball a sharp turn with the handle on its side, and I can hear a scattering of paper rustling, ready to determine my fate.

  As the first ticket is drawn, the room goes completely silent.

  There’s a sharp crack in the microphone as the Director leans forward and says, “Ticket two-zero-five. Giles Knight. You are the first winner of tonight’s lottery and husband one of Hypatia Curie.”

  There’s a shift in the crowd. A rustle of clothing. Then a man steps forward. Dark auburn hair, and a matching beard frames a handsome face. But it’s his size that has me swallowing hard as he steps onto the stage. He’s one of the men I caught watching me earlier.

  A wall of muscle, the man towers over me, and if it weren’t for the kindness I see in his confident green eyes, I might be frightened.

  He holds himself in military fashion, back straight, expression unreadable, he gives a sharp nod, before taking his place to the side of me.

  I can’t help but sneak a sideways glance at the man, and when I do, I see his lips twitch up just slightly.

  Behind me I hear Kate and Lilah sigh as they take in Giles. I twist my neck, looking back at them with wide eyes, my heart suddenly lighter than it has been in weeks. Maybe this isn’t the worst-case scenario.

  The next few names are called quickly, and each man comes on stage, taking his place in a line next to Giles. And I try my best to remember their names as they’re called out.

  Huxley is the second. He’s a good five inches shorter than Giles, but his face is pleasing, and his eyes, a clear blue rimmed with dark lashes, give me the impression that he is intelligent.

  Next is Banks, with his olive skin, jet black hair, and dark piercing eyes that seem almost skeptical of me as he takes his place with the other men. There’s a slight arrogance to him that makes me a bit apprehensive.

  And I wonder if I wasn’t his first choice. Maybe he put tickets in for the other women as well. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and glance away.

  The fourth man to be called is Emerson. Sporting a full sleeve tattoo on his left arm, his eyes are a striking turquoise. Tall, with long, light brown hair pulled back in a bun, his size is comparable to Giles. And I have no doubt that whatever his job is, it requires strenuous labor.

  I glance out across the sea of faces, catching the blue eyes of the man I’d noticed earlier. When the fifth name is called, his nostrils flare slightly, and I see his jaw twitch. There’s a slight murmur of disapproval from the men, as the man called makes his way on stage.

  Shaggy, dark blond hair, and friendly brown eyes, the man looks almost confused that his name has been called, which is odd, since each man here had to pay a serious amount of money to be included in the lottery.

  But there’s no denying his frown as he glances over at me.

  Shit. This is not doing much for my confidence.

  The Director seems more familiar with him than the other men, and a satisfied grin stretches across his face as he watches Salinger take his place next to Emerson.

  I take in the five men next to me. All different in their own way. But each one appealing, even handsome. And I let out a small nervous laugh.

  This is actually happening. These men will all call me wife before the night is through.

  The last ticket is called, and a round of disappointed grumbling fills the room.

  But no one moves towards the stage.

  “Fallon Hudson,” the Director repeats.

  My gaze drifts back to the man who’d caught my attention earlier. He holds my gaze for a long, intense second, and I see a flicker of something in his eyes, something primal, a hunger, and I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my body.

  Then he gives a small, almost unperceivable half-smile, and pushes himself off the wall. Cool and collected, he makes his way towards me.

  There’s something familiar about him. Something I can’t place. Like a distant memory or a dream.

  Fallon, his name echoes in my mind.

  Chapter Two: Fallon

  My entire life is about control. Having it. Keeping it. Mastering it.

  But one look at the woman on the stage in front of me and I feel that control shredding.

  The common misconception from the outside world is that there aren’t any women left in Alaska, other than the ones that come here for refuge, which is why we’ve resorted to this type of union.

  In fact, we’ve seen a greater number of female children born, compared to the world’s dwindling rates, since the Alaskan government instituted the lottery ten years ago.

  It’s not a perfect system, but it works. Keeping our women safe is our number one priority.

  “Fallon Hudson,” the Director says my name again as I take the steps up towards the stage and stand in front of the woman who, after tonight, will be my wife.

  She’s beautiful, but that’s not the main reason I spent my last five years of savings to put my name in her lottery. I was the pilot that flew her from the port in Seward to the base two weeks ago. I doubt she’ll remember me. She’d been half-frozen, and barely able to keep her eyes open. I’d picked the three women up, after they’d been discovered hidden on a fishing charter.

  Despite being malnourished, dehydrated, and hypothermic, she’d fought me as I’d tried to carry her, insisting she could walk, even though she stumbled with each step.

  Stubborn.

  The woman was the obvious leader of her little group. The strength that had helped them survive when the captain of the charter ship had gone on a drinking binge, and forgot to inform the local officials that the women were below deck.

  It was pure luck that one of the crew had found them before they froze to death.

  I study her now. She’s still a little too thin, but there’s color in her cheeks, and the fire I’d seen that night blazes in her hazel eyes.

  Hypatia. It’s an odd name. I’d heard the other woman call her Tia for short, but I liked Hypatia. It spoke of strength and passion. And she’ll need both in this barren wasteland.

  Especially with the men who had been randomly chosen to be her husbands.

  I look over each of them as we’re escorted off stage, and into one of the back rooms where the wedding ceremony will take place.

  An unease fills me when my gaze falls on Huxley. He’s a shady character. His blue eyes a little too intelligent for my liking, always darting around like he’s collecting information to be used at a later date. Unlike the other five of us, he doesn’t work for the government. He owns a small bookstore in town, one that’s been passed down through each generation.

  But I know the rules. After the ceremony, these men will be my family.

  That includes Salinger. The Director's kid. He’s only a few years younger than me, but the way his father treats him, even in public, I’ve never been able to see him as anything more than a sniveling trust-fund brat. I wouldn’t doubt he had his father rig the damn lottery so his name was called.

  The low growl I let out must be audible because Emerson looks back at me and raises a brow. I give a pointed look at Salinger, but Emerson just shrugs and gives me a silent warning to keep my opinions to myself.

  Inside the small, unfurnished room, the door shuts behind us, leaving us alone.

  Silence stretches between us, but there are a dozen different inaudible conversations going on among the men. And I read each one of the looks, even those not directed at me.

  Giles gives me a hard nod, dark red hair falling over his forehead as he does. What are the fucking odds we’d be paired together? There’s a history between us. One that pulls memories that I’ve tried for years to forget.

  He’s a good man.

  We may have our differences, but I have no doubt that the men will do anything to protect the woman we’ll call ours. And that is the first and most important duty we have.

  The only man I don’t know is Banks. There’s an arrogance to him, an aura of confidence that I can respect. He’s older than the re
st of us, and if I had to guess, I’d say he was closing in on the lottery cut off age of thirty-five. Dark eyes flash in my direction and he gives me a tight smile.

  “I’ll be your officiant this evening,” a uniformed man explains. “Each of you are to take a ring from the table and then we can begin the vows.”

  “I’m ready when you are,” Huxley says with a cocky grin as he plucks a gold band from the display, taking things into his own hands. Not surprising. I know his reputation. The black-market operation in his bookstore has been on the government's radar for years. “And for you, Tia,” he says, handing her a small gold band with a solitaire diamond. “Let’s get you home. And I promise I’ll get you a better ring. One that matches your beauty.”

  I grunt at the man’s words, and Giles raises a brow at me.

  Tia takes the ring from Huxley, a tentative look on her face. My jaw clenches as their hands brush one another’s, and then he has the audacity to take her fingers and bring them to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles.

  Lech. Rake. Swindler. A dozen names go through my head.

  But she must like this kind of man because she thanks him with a smile. A smile I want turned to me.

  I want to be the man she looks at. But I need to get used to sharing her. She’s not my wife alone. And hell, if she likes a man like Huxley, I don’t know if I’ll be the kind of man she wants.

  I stride over to the table and find a ring big enough to fit my large fingers. I’m a tall man, broad shouldered. I was made for the wilds of Alaska. Unlike Huxley and Salinger.

  If Hypatia wants a real man, she’ll need to come to me for protection. I bet some of these men have never even shot a gun in their damn lives.

  Once we all have our rings we move to our assigned spots, forming a circle around Hypatia.

  The officiant asks each of us to state our full names, and in turn, we do.