Originally posted on Patreon in August 2018 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
I really wanted to write Tír na Cali, okay?⛈️

The slaves in Tír na Cali were not part of the royal bloodline.

Except sometimes they were.

They did not have the psychic powers – “witchcraft” – that the royals did.

Except sometimes they did.

Those with strong powers were not sold outside the family, if they did happen to exist (which they didn’t).

Except sometimes the song of money was stronger than the law of tradition.  Except when something was going on that the family didn’t quite want to admit to.  Except when –

-well, except when Connor.

Connor touched the collar around his neck one more time.  It was not the nice gold-traced silver collar he had been wearing for years.  It was not the smaller, plainer collar he’d worn when he’d started to “get in trouble,” as the Master of Slaves had called it.

It was the cheap plastic of the slave markets, and it meant that it was – and therefore he was – temporary.  He was in a nice cell but it was a cell; he was being sold for a decent sum of money but he was being sold; the people that talked to him were nice, but they wanted to buy him.

Connor did not want to be bought.  Connor was part of the Lady Conroi ni Reline O Istvia household.  He was not some common slave to be sold, to be purchased, to be moved around.  He was –

He reached his fingers up towards the electronic lock and he thought.

He’d been “getting in trouble” for almost a year now.  By now, the movements were easy.

Outside, a massive storm began to rage, blowing up out of nowhere.  The thunder seemed to shake the buildings.

Inside, all of the cages and all of the slaves’ collars opened.  All of the lights went out.  The thunder sounded right overhead.

Connor plucked the collar off of neck and dropped it to the ground.  If he was not going to be part of Lady Conroi’s household, then he was not going to be a slave.

“Come with me,” he told the others, who obeyed because they were deeply in the habit of obeying.  “We’re going to… we’re going to not be sold.”