Free Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) by Shae Ford

hulking shadows were already making their way across the fields to work. Kael recognized the thick limbs and plodding steps of the giants, and he knew that these must be Lord Gilderick’s slaves.
    He’d spent the winter reading the logbook they’d stolen from Duke Reginald. And from what he could gather, Gilderick had divided the giants into two groups: those who were willing to shed blood to join his army, and those who weren’t. The giants who’d refused to join him had become his slaves.
    Kael watched the slaves from around Dingy’s massive head. Some of them hoisted tools across their shoulders, but even those with nothing at all still seemed to carry a burden: they were hunched over, their backs were like the curve of a bow and their heads were tethered to the earth — held down by some unrelenting string.
    The giants who worked the fields had refused to bow to Gilderick, and so he’d bent them under his whips.
    Anger swelled in Kael’s chest when he thought of what a proud race the giants had been. He was determined see pride straighten their shoulders once more. He would see them bent back — and Gilderick would pay dearly for what he’d done to the plains.
    Kael was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that Dingy had come to a stop. The road had finally ended in what looked like a small, dusty courtyard. Four identical barns hemmed its edges, forming an almost perfect wall. Something that looked like a small cottage was perched atop the roof of each barn. Their doors had been marked crudely with dripping white paint: N , S , E , and W .
    Dingy was stopped at the barn marked N . His shoulder dropped suddenly, dumping Kael onto the ground.
    “That had better not be for us.”
    A narrow flight of stairs led up the side of the barn and to the cottage perched at its top. The man who’d spoken stood on a small porch outside of the cottage, leaning against the rails.
    He had a pinched face and a wad of something trapped behind his lower lip. His scarlet tunic was emblazoned with the gold, crossed sickles of the Endless Plains. Kael couldn’t help but notice the wicked-looking black whip strapped to his side.
    “You’ll take what you’re given and smile about it, spellmonger,” Dingy growled back.
    Spell monger? Kael had to bite his lip to keep from swearing aloud.
    Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Of course Gilderick used his mages for slavemasters — how else could he have hoped to keep the giants under control? So even if Kael hadn’t been captured, his plan would’ve still fallen apart. The pirates wouldn’t have been able to fight against the mages. He would’ve led them all straight to their deaths.
    Kael wasn’t used to being fortunate. He supposed that he should be grateful, but he was still too furious with himself to feel relieved.
    “We won’t get even an hour’s work out of that rat,” the mage complained, his lip tightening around whatever it was that he held against his gums. “I’m tired of getting all the cast-offs. Stodder thinks his pens are so much more important than everything else — and he sticks me with all the sicklings!”
    Dingy smirked. “Well, if you’re so upset about it, why don’t you ask His Lordship for a better stock? I’ll take you up to the castle, myself.”
    The mage’s face, if possible, pinched even tighter. He leaned forward and spat in answer. A trail of brownish liquid landed near Dingy’s boots.
    He smirked all the wider “I didn’t think so. That didn’t work out so well for ole Ludwig, now did it?” Dingy shrugged as he turned for the road. “Put him to work, or throw him in the Grinder — the rat’s your problem now, spellmonger!”
    “Meat-headed oaf,” the mage spat back, but Kael doubted if Dingy could hear it over the noise of his own chortling. “Finks!” The mage gestured to someone over Kael’s shoulder. “You lost one of your beasts yesterday, didn’t you? Why don’t you take the