Prologue
"Stop! Thief!" The voice rang through Arabelle's ears as she raced through the market place, clutching her prize. Only one thought ran through Arabelle's head.
Get out. Eat. Find a home. Never go back. At five, the firey haired child was smarter then most her age. Born into slavery, Arabelle had no family, no last name... her only companion was the dirty Siberian husky racing beside her. Arabelle was a beautiful girl, but clothed in rags with dirt streaking her pale face and her red hair, she looked no more than she was: A peasant.
"Come here, you!" A hand grabbed her tiny arm and a man yanked her towards him.
"Felix,
help!" Arabelle shrieked, clawing at the hand holding her. The dog turned, snarling, and lunged at the man who fell back with a yell. Arabelle was released, but men began to close around the black cloaked girl.
Felix hung close to Arabelle, snarling and swinging his head in a circle, teeth snapping threateningly.
"Get the dog!" The first man commanded. Two men lunged and grabbed Felix, holding him down and ignoring Arabelle's shrieks. The market place was silent other then their struggle as shoppers froze to watch in shock. One man yanked Arabelle's hood back. Desperate to hide her identity, she dropped her prize and clung to the hood. The man snorted and knocked her hands away, pulling the hood back to reveal her delicate, dirt streaked face and the wide, forest green eyes.
"Arabelle." The man said. "You are being charged with theft as well as running from your duty as a slave. What have you to say for yourself?" He asked.
Deny everything! A voice at the back of her head screamed. But Arabelle ignored the voice.
This girl, all five years and forty-five pounds of her, lifted her chin and faced the man squarely.
"I do not deny it." She said, green eyes defiant.
"I should slap you for your defiance, child!" The man roared.
"Do it! Should i care? I am sentenced to death, regardless." Arabelle growled.
"NO! Arabelle, no!" The voice came from a boy with shaggy blonde hair streaked with darker hues and crystal blue eyes that bore into hers when she turned.
Fabion... my dear, dear Fabion. I'm so sorry. Arabelle thought as a man stepped between them. Even at five, Arabelle had had every intention of marrying Fabion when they grew up... Fabion had promised himself to her and she to him. They were bound for life.
A life that is about to end before it has started."You little wench! I will very much enjoy disposing of you!" The man snarled. She felt the cool metal of a dagger at her throat when a voice cut through the air, rippling with authority.
"Stop this at once!" The voice hissed. The crowd parted to reveal an elderly man moving forward. The hand that held the dagger to Arabelle's throat stilled.
"L-Lord Byron, sir?" He said warily. Arabelle stared up in awe. Lord Byron? Arabelle knew the name well. Fabion had often stayed in her room late at night and told stories of him. Lord Byron was the son of the founder of the famous Junoir Gladiator games! A elderly man hobbled forward. His face was lined and wrinkled and reminded Arabelle of leather. He had a tan, weathered face, with a scar slashing through one eye but it was the face of a grandfather nonetheless. He looked at Arabelle with twinkling, forest green eyes and... winked. Arabelle gapped at him. This man... this
legend, was winking at her.
"Lord Andrews, release the girl please." Lord Byron said.
"But, My Lord, she has been sentnced to death!" The man protested.
"She is a Slave, correct? Who owns her?" Lord Byron asked, looking around. A middle aged man stepped forward.
"I do, My Lord. She is the daughter of two of my old slaves. They died when she was a mere infant and I raised her myself." The man said, running a hand nervously through his black hair.
"Well than... I'll pay Fifty for her." Lord Byron said.
"What?" Sir Andrew threw his head back, roaring with laughter. "With all do respect, My Lord, the girl is barely worth five let alone fifty."
"Do you question my judgement, Sir Andrew? This girl has potential." Lord Byron's eyes hardened with a dangerous edge that had the laughing silenced.
"N-no, of course not My Lord... I'd be glad to sell the little Wench." Sir Andrew stammered.
"Good. Then release the girl." Lord Byron reached into his robe and pulled out an envelope, pulling out five gold peices. "This is worth fifty then. Give her to me." He commanded. When Lord Byron dropped the coins into Sir Andrew's outstretched hand, the man thrust Arabelle towards him.
"Give me Felix!" Arabelle turned and whistled. "Come on, boy."
"No! The dog will face your sentence instead!" Sir Andrew hissed.
"NO!" Arabelle lunged forward but a hand lashed out and smacked her, sending her crashing to the ground. Pain lashed through the girl but she rose and moved forward again, no fear in her gaze.
"Enough! Give the girl her dog. The animal belongs to her and she to me, now. Do you dare steal my property after handing it over?" Lord Byron hissed.
Sir Andrew looked about to argue, but then he nodded sharply and snapped his fingers. The two men holding Felix released him and backed off quickly. The dog rose and bounded towards Arabelle. People scrambled out of the animal's way. When Felix reached Arabelle's side, he sat and looked around protectively.
"Come Arabell. We have much work." Lord Byron turned and left. Arabelle took a deep breath, and followed the man who had saved her life. But as she left the market place, she couldn't help one thought that raced through her head.
Lord Byron had saved her life... but at what cost? 
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