CHAPTER SIX
They dragged Sophia outside, pulling at her even though she was walking under her own power. She was too numb to do anything else, too weak to even think about fighting. The nuns were delivering her on her new owner’s orders. They might as well have wrapped her up like a new hat or a side of beef.
When Sophia saw the cart, then she tried to struggle, but it made no difference. It was a big, gaudy thing, painted like the wagon of some circus or troupe of players. The bars proclaimed it as what it was though: the holding wagon of a slaver.
The nuns dragged her to it and opened up the back, pulling back big bolts that couldn’t be accessed from the inside.
“A sinful thing like you deserves to be in a place like this,” one of the nuns said.
The other one laughed. “You think she
