Theo Carlisle, open
It all came to this: freedom, or love.
Theo chose love. He'd offered--he'd insisted, almost to the point of contempt of court--on taking his mother's place, her sentence of three years' slavery. She had done nothing wrong but love and trust a man who was corrupt and selfish, who used her naivete in his schemes. But her name was involved, it was on checks and used in letters and so it made her guilty in the eyes of the law. Theo was glad to let his father's sentence stand; there was little love lost between them, and the man deserved the sentence handed to him--ten years as a slave.
His mother did not. Theo was still young, was strong, and more able to withstand the sentence. Three years wasn't all that long; he could survive. The last glance he had of her was over his shoulder as he was marched out to be taken to the auction house. She was crying, but at least she was still alive. Still free.
Theo had been nothing but cooperative in the few days he's been in a holding cell; he was there willingly and he wanted to give the authorities no reason to renege on their decision to take him instead of her.
Two guards stood at either side of him as he waited for his turn on stage. The woman before him had been gorgeous, and the bidding sounded raucous. He felt sorry for her.
At last it was his turn. The guards marched him out onto the stage. The lights were so bright that he couldn't really see out into the audience, and he counted that a blessing of sorts.
Theo squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. His heart pounded beneath his ribs like a crazy thing, but somehow, he kept his expression neutral. The scrubs he wore were baggy and just a little short; he was long legged enough that he always had to have his trousers tailored.
"Lot 3790," the auctioneer said. "Human. At thirty-three, he's a bit older than our normal fare, but still fit enough. Music teacher at the local high school, so musically gifted and at least moderately intelligent. Bidding begins at five thousand."