Tilleo instantly drops his eyes and sputters several apologies. Riall hands me the togs we just collected from the barracks. I toss the deep blue silky fabric at Tilleo, followed by the chain belt that was designed to finish the look.
“Get dressed. We don’t want to keep the others waiting,” I chirp at him.
He doesn’t look up at me, but his face crumples with appalled indignation. He pushes his limp hair from his face but doesn’t reach for the dress or move to get up so that he can put it on like he’s been told to do. I drop the sweetness from my tone and step forward, a malevolent gleam in my gaze.
“Put it on, orI’llput it on you, minus your cock and your sword hand, and I promise you’re going to want to keep your sword hand for what’s coming next.”
His enraged stare once again bounces from me to the Scorpions, and he throws his blankets back and starts to dress. He grunts and growls as he pulls the ridiculous dress over his portly frame, turning back to us as though silently demanding if we’re satisfied with his obvious humiliation.
Not even close.
“Don’t forget the belt,master,” I mock, gesturing at the metal coat of arms that will sit over his putrid cock to help keep the strips of fabric in place.
Tilleo clips it around him, his belly hanging over the delicate chain, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Now walk, you piece of shit,” Tarek barks at him, and the master jumps with fright at the loud bellow.
Riall and Curio take turns kicking the tyrannical bastard through the corridors and down the stairs. By the time we step out of the manor into the dry desert heat, Tilleo has lost his hoity air. He looks around like a starved desert rat, hoping a scrap of salvation will be right around the corner, but all that’s waiting for him is a strong dose of everything he’s dished out to every blade slave who’s passed in and out of the ludere doors.
“Is everyone out of the house?” I ask Tarek.
“I triple-checked, it’s clear. Eacon already jumped them to the house we set up near her orphanage. Rink’s girls are going to get them cleaned up and fed while we finish up here.”
I nod and look back at the colossal manor house, trying not to think about all the unspeakable horrors that so many endured inside its walls. The ludere could fit inside this monstrosity a hundred times over. It was just another symbol of how powerful Tilleo was and how weak we were in comparison.
Well, fuck that.
I take a deep breath and, with one hand, execute the motion that I’ve been practicing every day. I open my palm at the end, hoping against hope that there will be a tiny flame glowing in the middle of it, but just like every other time, it’s just my hand.
“Fuck,” I snip, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I swear you’re getting off on my failure,” I accuse Tarek, glaring at the smile he’s doing a shit job of trying to hide.
“I would never,” he defends, and my glare turns seething.
“I knew it! You are!” I point an accusatory finger at him and then shove him when he starts to laugh.
“You just look so fucking cute when you’re trying to do it. I can’t help myself. Your face gets all scrunched up, and you get an adorable little line here.” He runs his finger between my eyebrows, and I playfully swat his hand away.
“There aren’t any gestures, are there?” I demand with faux betrayal. “You totally made them up, didn’t you?”
Tarek doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to—his fiendish smile says it all. I shake my head, shock and amused outrage etched across my face. But the fucker’s smile is so damn contagious I can’t keep from catching one too. He pulls me to him and kisses me silly.
“You’re going to pay for that,” I warn against his lips.
“Looking forward to it,” he taunts as he nips my bottom lip.
“Fine,” I concede. “Youburn it down then.”
“With pleasure,” he rumbles deliciously, and then without the fucking gesture I’ve been practicing for ages, he launches flames at Tilleo’s manor until several catch and start to grow.
I give the palatial building my back and follow after Riall and Curio as they shove a stumbling Tilleo across the sands toward the ludere, which is nestled in the shadows of the tall wall that surrounds the stronghold. Familiar stars twinkle above me, the moon and her subjects granting me their favor as I walk beneath their gleaming gaze. The smell of sun-kissed sand beckons to me like an old friend, and I take a moment to remember the faces of the slaves who never made it out of these walls.
I step onto the familiar stone of the ludere steps, taking it all in with new eyes. It’s going to die tonight, and the realms will be better for it. Riall shoves Tilleo into the line of masters, healers, and guards we’ve already collected, each of them draped in the finery they forced the blade slaves to wear. Wilik eyes me contemptuously, her hair freshly shorn and the arm that’s now missing a hand clutched firmly to her chest. I ignore the rage and fury aimed at me as I join Rink and Eacon on the stacked seats the masters lazed on while they bet against slaves or beat them out of boredom.
“Everything go okay with jumping the slaves out of here?” I ask Eacon, and she gives me a warm smile.
“Everything went smoothly. We can start trying to locate family or figuring out where they want to settle in a couple of days,” she assures me, grabbing my hand and giving it a firm squeeze.
“Thank you, both of you, it means a lot,” I offer.
