The man had large, rough hands that jerked Cailan about as cold blue eyes examined him distantly. He didn't grope as many men did in their inspections, giving the same grim attention to checking Cailan's teeth as he did examining his genitals. Cailan stood tall but let himself be moved freely, stared straight ahead and kept his expression impassive. He'd learnt after the first few times that any misbehaviour while he was being inspected for sale, any show of fear or modesty, would get him sent to the isolation room for two full days.

The man cast an eye down the line of naked boys, all of them older than Cailan's thirteen years, before turning to Master Adam where he stood watching over them with his arms folded across his chest. "I'll take him."

Master Adam's lips curved up into a smile. "I'll get the paperwork."

#

The man's name was Mr Roy, and he didn't so much as blink at the exorbitant price he was quoted for Cailan's purchase. While he did the paperwork, Cailan was sent up to dress in his nicest robe. The rest of his robes, emblazoned with the House’s chest, would be handed down to the next boy to age out of the nursery and be prepared for sale.

Mr Roy didn't speak to him as they left the House, didn't so much as glance at him. They caught a carriage in silence and arrived a few minutes later at a large, new house that sat along a street full of other large, new houses.

Cailan had been trained for this, or at least he had thought he had. He had been trained to expect a new master's attentions and to welcome them. Nobody had ever mentioned that he might be sent up to room, empty but for a simple bed and dresser, and left alone for hours until he wondered if he'd been forgotten.

He heard the clinking of dishes downstairs and the smell of food on the air as dinner was served, heard the table being cleared and the residents of the house returning to their quarters. He sat on the bed and waited. It was full dark outside before Mr Roy finally came for him.

"Follow me, slave," Mr Roy said, his first words to Cailan.

"Yes, master," Cailan murmured.

Mr Roy glanced over his shoulder and met Cailan's gaze for the first time. "I am not your master."

He continued down the hall without explanation, and Cailan didn't dare ask as he hurried to keep up with Mr Roy's far longer stride.

The room they entered was a study, bookcases lining the walls and a large timber desk up against tall windows at the far end of the room. It was the boy standing to the side of the room who caught Cailan's eye, though.

The boy was in his mid-teens, and superficially he looked like Mr Roy. The same blue eyes, but nowhere near as cold. Hair of the same brown, but neatly combed and shiny, not flecked with grey. He didn't have the same scowl Mr Roy had etched into the lines of his face, instead holding his expression carefully neutral. He stood tall and straight as he cast his eyes over Cailan and then raised curious eyebrows at Mr Roy. "What is this, father?"

With a hand on his back, Mr Roy shoved Cailan a step forward in the boy's direction. "This is what you will be using if you have any more urges you need to satisfy, Liam."

Liam's careful mask twisted, his expression drawing back with distaste, before he pulled himself back into composure and gave a stiff nod of his head. "Yes, father."

Mr Roy gave Cailan another shove in Liam's direction. "Take him, then."

Liam didn't hesitate to follow his father's order, guiding Cailan from the room with a hand clenched firmly but not painfully around his arm. His expression had shifted as soon as they were out of his father's sight, his eyebrows drawing down and his lips pressing into a tight line, but it wasn't until they were in an ornate bedroom with the door firmly shut that the mask fell apart entirely.

"What the hell does he think he—" Liam's eyes were wide and distressed when he turned his gaze on Cailan. He gave a sharp shake of his head. "I don't know which theory is worse. That this is some kind of punishment designed to mock me, or that he genuinely thinks fooling around with boys my own age is no different than molesting a— a child."

Cailan didn't quite know what was going on, but he knew this boy, his master now, was upset, that he was the source of his master's unhappiness. He fell to his knees and dropped his head, his long golden hair falling forward to shield his face.

"How old are you?" he heard Liam ask.

"I—I'm thirteen, sir," Cailan said, his voice quivering on the last word.

"That’s too young," Liam said. "I'm sixteen, almost a man. And my own father has given me a child, to— Well, don't you worry. That won't be happening."

"You don't want me, sir?" Cailan asked, his voice tiny and broken.

"I’m not attracted to children.”

Cailan dared to look up at Liam, watched him as he ran his fingers through his hair over and over and messed up the neat job he'd done of combing it. "Are you going to send me back, sir?"

Liam considered Cailan for a moment before his lips slowly slid into a bitter smile and he shook his head. "No. You don't look like you were cheap. He can waste his money all he likes."

Though it stung to be called a waste, Cailan was relieved he wouldn’t be sent back. Being a second hand slave was a shameful thing and it would dramatically reduce his value. Nobody would believe that his virginity hadn’t been taken. "Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to kneel. Come, I'll show you the library."

The library was a large room filled with rows of bookshelves, and it contained enough books to last Cailan years before he would need to consider rereading anything. The House had had a far smaller collection, but Cailan hadn't managed to work his way through the whole of it in the short time he was there. It had only been a few scary weeks since he'd left the nursery.

Liam didn't once touch Cailan as he guided him through the contents of each shelf, not so much as a tap on his arm to draw his attention. Would he ever? He had kept his distance since he’d led Cailan back to his room with a hand clenched tight around his arm, strong and gentle.

Cailan had a stack of books with him by the time Liam brought him back to the simple, bare room he'd been given, wished him a good night, and left him there alone. He tried to read and found he couldn't focus on the words. Already the isolation gnawed at him. The only times he'd ever been on his own for more than a few minutes at a time had been as part of a punishment during his short time at the House. He wanted to apologise, beg for forgiveness. He wanted to make things right, but this time he'd done nothing wrong. At least according to Liam.

It was early when Liam came by with a tray of food the next morning, but Cailan was already up. He hadn't slept well. By the time the door was open, he was already kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"I thought you might be hungry," Liam said as he carefully set the tray down on the bed. "I don't suppose my father bothered to feed you last night."

"Thank you, sir."

"You can stand up," Liam said. "You don't have to kneel for me all the time. I mean, it would be a good idea in front of my father, and in the presence of important company, but when it's just us..."

"Thank you, sir," Cailan said again as he stood, slow and smooth like he'd been taught.

"The ‘sir’ thing, too. That's not necessary when we're alone."

Cailan nodded his head and dropped his gaze.

"Well, I'd better get going," Liam said. "I just wanted to get something to you before everyone else eats. I'd bring you down to breakfast, but taking you near my father seems unwise. I'll get our maid, Aubree, to come and get your dishes and help you take a bath later."

Cailan nodded, his eyes on the ground, and murmured, "Thank you." He couldn't say the words with near the same confidence when he wasn't tacking 'sir' on to the end. He had been told that some masters would ask them to drop such formalities as a way of feeling closer to their slave, but that wasn’t what was happening here and Cailan had never addressed a human so informally before.

It was only after Liam had left that Cailan actually looked at the tray, that he noticed the sheer quantity of food on it. He could never eat all that! A full bowl of porridge, two boiled eggs and buttered toast, and an apple. 

Liam had made it clear the entire tray of food was for him, though, and he'd been trained never to question his master's judgement. He sat down on the bed and he ate.

It was nice at first, the perfectly soft boiled eggs and the buttery toast the most delicious things he’d ever eaten, but by the time he moved on to the apple he was already nearly full. After just a few spoonfuls of porridge, the thought of eating more made Cailan feel nauseous. He continued anyway. Liam had given him so little guidance. He would do whatever was asked of him.

He had finished most of what seemed to be an increasingly large bowl of porridge by the time a final mouthful pushed him over some threshold and suddenly he was retching violently. He tried to hold it back with his hands, but he still managed to get it on his clothing, the carpet, and the bedspread before he finally got himself under control.

Half an hour later the maid entered to find Cailan sobbing as he tried desperately to calm his mind enough to make his magic cooperate with cleaning up the mess.

Aubree was a tall, slightly overweight woman with light hair and dark eyes that narrowed critically at the sight of Cailan kneeling on the floor, his robe stained with vomit and his eyes red and damp from crying.

Aubree didn't speak to Cailan as she hauled him up by his arm, her lips pursed in disgust, and dragged him down the hall to a large bathroom. She put the plug in the bathtub and let the water run while she tugged Cailan's clothes off with unnecessary aggression.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Cailan murmured, his voice trembling. Aubree may have been a maid, but she was a free woman. That put her well above him.

"Sorry's not going to clean up your carpet, now is it?" Aubree said. "Get in the tub. Can you scrub yourself?"

"Yes ma'am," Cailan murmured as he climbed into the white porcelain bathtub. The water was heated, presumably by electricity like the house's lighting, a rare luxury even in the city. "I can clean the carpet too, with my magic."

Aubree scoffed. "You're welcome to try, but we both know you're only really good for one thing."

Cailan pressed his lips together and focussed his attention on wetting his hair. He was good at cleaning. He'd just been having trouble because he was scared of getting in trouble. After he'd had his bath he'd go back and do it properly.

Aubree told Cailan she'd check back in on him in a while and left him to wash himself, taking his dirty robe with her. 

As Cailan washed himself mechanically, he pulled himself back together. Things had just changed so fast, and suddenly he felt very much on his own. He liked his new master, but Liam clearly didn't understand him. He didn't offer Cailan the same companionship the other slaves had given him in spades.

By the time Aubree returned ten minutes later, Cailan was much calmer and had finished washing. She dried him briskly with a towel though he could have done it himself. He hadn't been treated like this since he was a child. Maybe that was how she saw him. Turning thirteen had meant that he was mature enough to be sold, but Liam seemed to think he was still a baby.

"I don't have any clothes that will fit you, so you'll just have to wear your underpants while I get your robe washed," Aubree said once Cailan was dry. "I'll get those off you and wash them once you have your robe back, though. We can't have you being unclean for your young master."

The scorn in her voice was unmissable. Cailan couldn't help but wonder if there would be less of it if she knew Liam felt much the same way. "Yes, ma'am."

"I've changed your sheets, but I've left the carpet alone," Aubree said as she led Cailan back to his room. "I'll be back to check on you soon. I won't be pleased if all that comes of your efforts is that mess settling in deeper because of the delay."

"I can do it, ma'am," Cailan murmured.

"Then do it."

Left alone in his room, Cailan knelt next to the mess he'd left on the carpet and tried again to get to work. His mind felt jittery, out of sync as it always did after more than a day in isolation. He'd never been expected to try and use his magic afterwards until he'd had a bit of contact to resettle him.

Cailan's progress was glacially slow as he drew the vomit out of the carpet and dissipated it. By the time Aubree returned to check on him half an hour later he was only half way done, but he'd proven that he could do it so she left him be.