21
Fury swelled in me like a bonfire, merging with the anger radiating from Amlach and creating a dangerous spiral that altered the atmosphere in the room.
Escrain sensed it too, so he turned away from me and casually took a few steps toward Roxior. “Master,” he began in a stiff tone. “We have a long-standing business relationship. Have I ever sold you slaves that you were not satisfied with?”
The old man exhaled a puff of smoke, looking him up and down as if he were a bug. “No. Your goods have always proved useful and loyal until the end.”
“Then why do you doubt me now?” the captain flared up.
Roxior’s gaze grew sharper. “You’re hesitating, Escrain.”
He lightly rocked on his heels. “Oh, well,” he sighed in a casual tone. “Anyway, she won’t need her ear for what I have planned for her. So . . .” He slightly bowed, tipping his hat. “As you wish, Master.”
He spun around and returned to me. He exchanged a worried look with his second-in-command, who drew the curved dagger from the blue band around his waist and handed it to his captain by the hilt.
Now aware of my slowness, I tensed every muscle in my body, fully feeling the cool floor under my feet to prepare myself to scramble as soon as that blade neared my ear.
Escrain jerked his chin at his three men. “Hold her still,” he ordered, wearing a fake, confident smirk.
I put all my weight on my right leg and started to pull my left heel off the ground to spin with a kick . . .
“Master!” Amlach burst out suddenly, stepping forward until the chain between us stretched with a loud snap.
The servants in the room gasped in terror. It was evident that no slave had ever dared to address their Master during a sale, especially not in that tone.
Amlach held the Master’s icy gaze so firmly that, after a few moments, the man signaled Escrain to let go. The pirate seemed almost relieved and quickly moved away from me.
Amlach shot him a glance so dark and deadly that a small drop of sweat trickled down the captain’s temple. Then he turned back to Roxior, head held high and posture straight as a die.
“My name is Amlach Pyrós,” he began in a stentorian voice. “Commander of the army of King Amlach III of the Kingdom of Men.” He turned slightly to me. “This is Princess Nauriel, daughter of King Erech of the Kingdom of the Elves.”
He explained in detail what had happened to us over the last two weeks, highlighting how I had helped him survive day after day.
How I hadn’t abandoned him.
“She could have left me to die of thirst in the middle of the sea,” he said. “She could have drowned me or beaten me to death once we’d arrived on the island, for me and my soldiers wanted to invade her home like barbarians to take something that does not belong to us.”
I masked my surprise, commanding myself to remain stoic as I observed his profile.
“Yet, she didn’t. She could have left me to my fate when Captain Escrain found us and returned to her family.
Yet, she didn’t,” Amlach stated again vehemently.
“Even now, she could easily get rid of those shackles and decide to run or kill us all. Yet”—his eyebrows shot straight up eloquently—“she’s not doing it. ”
He was so convincing that even I, aware of no longer having the slightest strength to break the metal, found myself believing the lie.
“We humans are taught that elves are cold, calculating, and greedy. Murderers. But Princess Nauriel is none of these. She is kind and gentle and compassionate.”
I hoped nobody noticed that I was breathing faster or heard my heart pounding.
“A moment before the fight between our armies, she even ordered her people not to kill mine.”
It felt as if countless thorns had been suddenly thrust into my back. Gradually, my eyebrows curved downwards, my heart rate slowed, and my breath became barely noticeable.
How did Amlach know that?
Did he understand my language?
“So, I beg you, Master,” he went on. “Do not force her to resort to violence to defend herself. If you want a test of the strength of the elven kind, look at his arm.” He jerked his chin at Escrain’s second-in-command.
“He just touched her hair. I dare not even imagine what she would do to anyone who tried to harm her.”
Roxior’s eyes narrowed as he scanned my slender figure underneath my dirty and ragged tunic and trousers. Then he looked at the young man with the dislocated shoulder. “Is it the truth, boy? Did she do this to you?”
“Yes,” he answered in a bored tone. “And together they defeated twelve of our men.”
“Twelve,” the old man echoed to himself, smoking thoughtfully.
“The elf didn’t kill even one,” Escrain’s second-in-command pointed out. Then he hatefully added, “Unlike the man.”
“I said she is compassionate, Master,” Amlach replied ironically, coaxing a small smile from Roxior.
Tired of the arrogance with which Amlach had stolen the scene, Escrain glanced at one of his men, who pressed his club against Amlach’s chest and pushed him back.
Once again at my side, Amlach winked at me to show me that he had the situation in his hands. But I doubted it, honestly.
“Master Roxior.” Escrain moved to a wooden chest against the wall, halfway between us and the old man lying on the elongated chair. He placed a foot on it, one hand on his bent knee, and the other on the hilt of his sword. “How long have you been absent from the Games?”
The outside heat was swept away by the ice that the Master’s eyes seemed to throw at the captain.
Pleased by his reaction, Escrain grinned. “I learned that your latest gladiator, your pupil, had a terrible end . . . You were very fond of him, am I right?”
“Hold your tongue, pirate,” Roxior hissed deadly. “Or I will have it cut off.”
“I give you the chance to avenge him,” Escrain announced with emphasis.
“To humiliate those who have taken him from you until they are reduced to plebeians.” He removed his boot from the chest and walked in front of Amlach and me like an orator moving on the stage to conquer the crowd.
“The commander and the elf princess. Feared by every gladiator of the Masters of Rubra and the desert tribes. Loved by the people.” He paused, pinning Roxior with a bold look.
“Return to the Games, Master, and these two will cover you with glory.”
The old man took his time, his wrinkled face overshadowed by the memory of his lost love. “She’s too dangerous, Escrain,” he said eventually.
“Her Highness is not a threat to you,” Amlach said, his voice so deep it seemed to echo in the room. “You have my word.”
I felt his elbow brushing my arm. “And mine, Master,” I assured with concealed reluctance.
At the melodious sound of my voice, Roxior’s eyes shone with interest. He pulled on his pipe. “And how much do you want for these two specimens?” he asked the captain.
Escrain crossed his arms with a smirk. “Fifty thousand gold coins each.”
Roxior remained unmoved, yet his gaze burned with anger. “We’re done here,” he sentenced, dismissing him with a waving of his hand.
“Master,” Amlach said in an almost imperative tone, stepping forward. “Take us with you. And after we help you to get justice, take us back in person to the Lands of the East, and we promise you that our kings will reward you three times the amount you will spend today to save us.”
Greed burned like a blue fire in Roxior’s irises. Unlike Captain Escrain, he had no reason to fear for his life if he came to our land.
And he wanted all that money.
He wanted it more than his revenge, perhaps.
And Amlach had sensed it.
Roxior gave us a light, oily smile. “You’re good at talking, Commander,” he said in a buttered tone. “For a soldier.”
Amlach’s smile was even more subtle. “Everyone has their hidden talents, Master.”
Indeed, I thought as I frowned. And I suspected he was hiding many others.
In the stasis that followed, I stared sideways at Amlach. His face brimmed with arrogant conviction, and his gaze was so intense that a strange feeling twisted in my stomach.
A feeling that became even sharper when Roxior turned his attention to Escrain, his eyes shining like gems in the smoke cloud covering his face.
“So be it,” he declared.