41
If I thought I’d get any sympathy, or time to recover, after spending almost a week in that awful prison, I was wrong. After being healed, I was immediately taken back to Raiden’s house to bathe and get ready to accompany him to the arena again. Now, I’m standing in his study—or whatever this room is—while he circles me, dispassionately inspecting every bit of my body. A week ago, I would have been humiliated by this. Now, it doesn’t even faze me. At this point, I will do just about anything to avoid going back to those cells.
Does that mean they broke me?
I barely have time to consider the question before I’m spun around and shoved backward, my spine and skull striking the stone so hard I see stars. When my vision clears, it’s Raiden’s face I see—his expression strangely placid even as he wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes, cutting off my circulation and airsupply all at once. I tug at his fingers, my panic growing with every second of lost breath.
This only makes him squeeze harder. My lungs burn and my head feels like a balloon ready to pop. I frantically claw at his hand, but it’s no use. He’s killing me. He just freed me and now he’s going to kill me. He leans in close to my face, so close his worm-like lips brush my cheek. “Let me make this clear, girl,” he says, his hot breath blanketing my face with the scent of festering blood. “You are only here by virtue of that pretty face. You want to scowl? You can do it back in your cell. Do you understand?”
He releases my throat, and I slide to the floor, coughing as cool air rushes into my lungs.
“Get up,” he says, a thread of impatience leaking into his voice.
I scramble to my feet and attempt a smile, however lousy it might be, even though my lips tremble and tears continue to rain down my face. This seems to please him, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe he enjoys forcing people to pretend they’re happy while being tormented by him. Raiden takes me by the bicep, his hand squeezing so tightly I wonder if maybe he’s angrier than he lets on. Then, he drags me alongside him as we exit his house and head toward a water taxi waiting at the dock with three other girls, and a guard clutching a ferryman’s pole, already on board. The boat looks too small for four people—let alone six—but Raiden either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care. He forces me on, and my stomach drops when the entire thing bobs under my weight.
Of the three girls sitting crossed legged on the floor inside the boat, I only recognize Leina, my friend from the first arena visit. Leina’s hands are clutched tightly in her lap, her eyes glazed over and distant. She doesn’t even glance up as I board. Did they drugher? Not that I’d be surprised, but wouldn’t they have drugged me too? Raiden snaps his fingers and points to the floor for me to sit—like I’m a damn dog. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I obey and take a seat across from Leina, which means I’m facing the back of the boat where Raiden goes to stand beside the guard. The boat lurches as we push off, and Raiden’s arms pinwheel to keep himself upright. Now, he spews his venom at our guard turned ferryman, who stares ahead stoically while the much smaller fae threatens him with public flogging if he falls into the water. Unfortunately, our guard doesn’t appear willing to take him up on the offer. That’s a sight I’d pay to see. If I had any money, I mean.
I turn my attention back on Leina seated in front of me, scanning her face to see if she is actually drugged or just trying to act docile. Her eyes suddenly clear and her gaze flicks to me. Oh, thank the gods. She slow blinks, and I return the gesture. One ally is better than none, I guess. I check the other girls—who could be pretty dolls for all the expression they show—in my periphery, then Raiden, who is still busy tormenting the unfortunate guard.
Eyes on the slave master, I mouth, “Aemon,” to Leina.
Slowly, subtly, she shakes her head. Dammit. It was a long shot, but I’d hoped somebody knew something. Maybe he got away, and I’m just worrying about someone who left me here to die. Even as the thought comes to mind, I know it’s a lie. Don’t ask me how. It’s not like the man has written sonnets professing his ever-dying love for me, but I know he cares for me, and I can’t believe he’s the sort of person who would leave a friend behind.
No. He’s the sort that would die trying to save them.
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. For all I know, he could be dead already. Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. Now isn’t the time for weakness. I need to find Aemon and get us out of here. My gaze lifts to Leina’s pretty face.
I need to get all of us out of here.
Since nobody ever interrogated me about the escape, I’m guessing Fox Face took the blame like I suggested, which means they don’t know what I can do. Truth be told, even I don’t fully understand what I can do. I can push people to do what I tell them, but how long does it last? Is it my voice or my mind that’s controlling it? If I couldn’t speak, would that effectively douse my magic? It would really help to know these things before I try to put together an escape plan. Maybe I can talk Leina into being my guinea pig when we get back to the slave quarters. Oh, gods. What if they don’t take me back to the slave quarters? What if they take me back to that cage? No. I won’t allow it. They’ll have to kill me first.
I’m jerked out of my thoughts by the boat bumping into a dock. Raiden, who is still standing at the helm, nearly loses his footing again. I brace for the inevitable verbal lashing he will unleash on the poor guard/ferryman, but the daggers he glares at the male only last a moment before he’s telling us girls to, “Get up.”
By the time we reach Raiden’s box, the stands are full, and the games have already begun. A young man, dressed in rags and armedwith an ax, fights another—equally disheveled—man bearing a long sword that’s obviously too heavy for his bony arms. He’s dispatched quickly by an ax to the temple, but the crowd, too steeped in their own dealings, hardly seems to notice. Even King Khalmos, seated in his box on the opposite end of the arena, is too busy speaking with a gaggle of fae disciples to so much as glance at the gruesome display. The winner is led away to a smattering of applause, while his opponent continues to spasm as his blood seeps into the sand.
My stomach churns at the sight.
In a way, the spectators’ disinterest makes the whole thing worse. A man literally dies for their entertainment, and they can’t even be bothered to pause their discussions and take notice. Raiden instructs us to sit and steps outside, leaving the four of us with only the ferryman-guard posted at the door.
Another fight starts. This one between a scrap of a man and two wolves I’m assuming were caught above ground. It’s apparent from their emaciated bodies that the poor creatures have been starved. I guess it wouldn’t be as entertaining if they weren’t so ravenous they’d attack any living creature set in front of them.
As soon as the door slams shut, Leina leans toward me and whispers, “We all thought you were dead.”
There’s a part of me that wants to break down and blurt out the whole sorry story to her, tell her about everything: the masquerade party, my escape and capture, the prison cells, but that isn’t going to help anyone right now. I swallow back the emotion clogging my throat. “I was in the sky cells.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror. I guess that means she’s heard of the sky cells.
“Were the others there with you? Jael, Marris, Danni?”
“I didn’t see them. I’m hoping they escaped.”
Leina’s head whips around to face me. “Escaped?” she says, way too loudly.
“Face forward,” the surly guard shouts behind us.
Leina quickly turns her head, but not before I notice the tears welling in her eyes. “I thought they were dead.”
A hand grips my right leg. One of the other girls—a diminutive redhead with overly large green eyes. “They got out? Are you sure?” she asks. The girl on her other side says nothing, but I can tell by the way she tilts her head toward us, she’s listening.
