"You're up, honey. Shake a leg," Gwendolyn said, and gave Khero a push between the shoulders to get her moving. "Remember to smile!"
Gods, Khero hated that woman.
And though she hated violence, she didn't hate it as much as she wanted to slide a blade between that bitch's ribs.
It was that hatred that she focused on, to chase away the fear, as she took a deep breath and climbed the steps of the auction block, which was a little awkward since Gwen had placed her manacled hands behind her, to make it harder for her to run. Still she climbed and soon reached the top where the other slaves, men and women and children alike, were already lined up. Some of them were sobbing; some of them were staring listlessly, all the fight gone out of them; some were glaring defiantly, daring someone to choose them.
But Khero chose to smile, as serenely as she could, as she stood there with the other slaves in the long, plain brown tunic they were all wearing. She'd given this day a lot of thought. She'd had nothing but time as she traveled with Gwen's party, locked up with the other captives, which meant she had a lot of time to think and plan. Oh, she was terrified out of her wits, but terror and stress had only ever made her more thoughtful and calculating.
Only someone very confident and strong would choose an openly defiant slave, and she didn't want someone confident and strong to pick her. A sadist would likely pick the crying ones, someone who was already heartless or who maybe even got enjoyment out of others' misery, and she certainly didn't want that. She was hoping that, if she at least looked compliant and submissive, she might attract someone who was hoping for exactly that--a slave that would be easy to handle.
Because that sort of person would be easier for her to handle, too.