I pretend not to notice the dig. “Well, I feel like a very lucky girl.”
He smiles and gestures to the food. “Please, enjoy this meal. I had it prepared for you!”
There’s no way in hell I’m eating any of this, but I play along and randomly spoon things onto my plate. The next few minutes flash by as I ask frivolous questions and pretend to be interested while pushing food around and shifting my throbbing feet on the floor.At least there’s tile in here, I guess.
To my surprise, Gaius hasn’t asked me a single question. Vexar was convinced he would be curious about me, but so far, he’s shown zero interest. Which is weird. If he didn’t bring me here to get information, what’s the point?
Then I remember he’s an egotistical psychopath. Maybe I’m just a captive audience here to listen to him ramble. It’s weird, but I’ve seen weirder. Once, I went on a date with a guy who would ask me questions, interrupt me mid-answer, and then answer the question himself. Needless to say, that date didn’t last very long.
I prop my chin on my hand and lean forward. “It sounds like running this place and keeping it staffed must be very taxing.” Vexar coached me on manipulation tactics earlier, and this was one of them. He said you can get everything you need without ever asking a real question. It makes sense. If you ask someone a question, they might get defensive. If you make an incorrect claim, they’ll want to correct you. And if you inflate their ego, they’ll probably elaborate.
Gaius looks flattered as he takes a bite of something and chases it down with a sloppy gulp from his goblet. He tries to set his goblet down, but it lands on something and nearly topples over, sending a splash of drink onto his hand. Instead of using a napkin, he wipes his hand on the tablecloth.
Is he drunk?
With a grin, he says, “It really is a challenge, but it’s a challenge I am particularly suited for.” He scratches his forehead, just underneath a gilded horn, before rolling into a lengthy explanation of his long-standing relationship with the Tusku—the species that runs the slave-ships. He claims to have helped the Tusku build their operations to an “economically beneficial scale”, and now the Tusku return the favor by supplying him with “workers” at a discount. I knew this conversation was going to suck, but it’s hitting harder than I expected.
“So the Tusku had the original idea for the operation?” I ask innocently, as a bead of sweat rolls down my spine.
Gaius takes the bait. “No, no. That was me. I was the one who developed the system, including the ordering process. It’s a clever system, really. Anyone in need of a worker can place a request—with their desired profile, of course—and delivery occurs within sixty days.”
Anyonein need of a worker…
“Of course, the Tusku are very good at screening candidates and ensuring the selected workers have the aptitude to fulfill the job requirements.” He takes another swig and refills his goblet.Definitely drunk.“For example, the nurses here, including you,” he adds with a smirk, “were selected for their ability to handle a high level of violence, trauma, and isolation.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue, but he doesn’t stop speaking, and with every new word, I’m left feeling a little more violated. The Tusku spied on me for months. They knew everything about me. Theychoseme for this because of my history and lack of personal connections.
I guess they missed the part about me being a vengeful bitch.
Gaius continues. “The transport ships are another particularly clever bit of engineering I assisted with. They are designed to put the cargo through a myriad of physical and emotional stressors.” He leans forward and whispers, “It helps to weed out the weaker ones before they reach their final destination. You see, if they arrive too damaged for work, it is clear they were never a good fit to begin with. Now, the ships themselves…”
He keeps speaking, but the roaring in my ears drowns himout.They put me in a box to see if I would break?My entire body vibrates. I’m not sure if it’s the rage or the pain or the overwhelming disgust. Probably all three.
Does he really think I didn’t break? That despite everything, I’m still fine and normal? Because I’m not. That box fucking shattered me, and when I pulled myself back together, everything soft, everything kind and forgiving was gone. That ship didn’t make me into a better slave; it just sanded me down until I was little more than my sharpest parts.
I press my hands against the table to keep them from shaking. Something cool pricks my palm.
A knife.
I almost laugh.This fucking idiot gave me a knife?
There’s a silent shift of power in the room that Gaius is oblivious to. He’s given me a weapon, there are no guards present, and he’s drunk. The stupid bastard. He’s just like every other toxic male in the universe, refusing to believe a woman could be a threat. Going on, and on, about how brilliant he is. How he did all the smart things that no one else could possibly do. And yet, he’s sitting across from someone who was trained to kill, and he has no fucking idea. Granted, most of my training was focused on keeping people alive, but my second deployment was a shit-show, and I am well-practiced in taking out pieces of shit like him.
With cautious movements, I pull the knife into my lap. Fortunately, he’s so engrossed in his own story, I doubt he’d notice if I stood up and took a shit on his plate.
“That is very interesting,” I say, as I slide the knife along my thigh, blade side up, and tuck it between my waistband and hip. My sweat-damp skin clings to the metal, and I casually adjust my top. “It’s remarkable that you were able to develop such a robust system,” I say, hoping he’ll continue to elaborate.
He does, and I can’t deny I’m impressed by how effectiveVexar’s techniques are. I don’t think I’m exactlygoodat this manipulation thing, but Gaius is eagerly spilling his secrets. Then again, he thinks he’s talking to a dead girl, so … it could just be that.
When he pauses, I ask my last ‘question’. “The gladiators must be a remarkable challenge to procure.”
He looks up for a moment, as if considering this. “Sometimes, yes. But I don’t rely solely on the Tusku for that. Some of our gladiators are looking for a way to expunge their debt, others have criminal charges and choose the Coliseum over prison.” He picks something out of his teeth with a fork and continues to ramble, but I have everything I need.
I push the food around my plate, considering whether using the knife is a good idea. It’s probably not, but I’m going to hang onto it anyway. You never know when you might need a weapon.
“Vexar, on the other hand,” Gaius says, pulling my attention back, “has proven that royal blood alone does not make one fit to lead. He is weak-minded, foolish, and unable to consider the consequences of his own choices. A creature like him could never lead an empire. It is absurd to even think such a thing.”
My fork falls to my plate with a clatter.How did we get back to the subject of Vexar?
