27
Master Roxior awaited us in the entrance hall, busy confabulating with the old housekeeper, who appeared visibly upset. Dressed in a red and white robe and holding a closed wooden fan, the man stared at us when the guards ordered us to stop a few steps away.
“Better,” he remarked, alluding to our appearance, but he did not seem entirely satisfied.
The woman, too, looked at us from head to toe with her stony gaze. “Their look will improve, Master.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make them presentable for the start of the Games, Lotte,” he replied with a hint of a smile that made her pout even more.
The old man turned to us and raised a thick, shaggy eyebrow.
“Good morning, Master Roxior,” Amlach greeted him, performing a small bow that concealed a mocking intent as he deliberately brushed my arm with his.
Understanding at once, I set my jaw to keep from lashing out at him and made a small curtsy.
Roxior tapped the fan against his palm, his icy eyes intrigued by our silent interaction. “I see that you’ve already tamed her properly, Commander.”
Wrath struck me like a thunderbolt, but before I could snap, Amlach anticipated my reaction with a tone that was more than severe, more than biting.
“She is a lady, my lord, not an animal. Bowing to you, even though you have thrown us into a cell alongside the cattle and still keep us bound, she shows you not only respect but also the grace of her people.”
“Ah . . .” Roxior heaved a sigh, thoughtful. “And would she still do it if you weren’t by her side?” he asked, gesturing with the fan.
I tensed up so much that I felt like I might implode. Amlach noticed and casually nudged my biceps with his elbow to share his calmness.
“The princess is wiser than us, Master,” he said in an equally astute tone. “I’m sure she’s just scared. I don’t think she has ever been so long apart from her family and her people in all her long years of life.” He cut me a glance. “Am I right?”
Suddenly, I recalled my father’s words before the last battle against Mornon the Abomination. He had named me his heir because he recognized in me the qualities of his mother and was convinced that I would rule with the same wisdom and kindness she possessed.
But all I had done so far was be hostile, allowing anger—and yes, even the fear of never coming home again—to take over me.
It was time to change my attitude.
Even though my father could not see me, from now on, I would try to be the heir he believed I was and behave diplomatically, just as I was sure my grandmother would.
So, I relaxed my shoulders and exhaled, letting go of all my adversities. “Yes, it is so,” I said. “I apologize for my . . . rigidity. I know you’re trying to help us as much as you can.”
The man licked his canine, not entirely convinced of my surrender.
“In that case,” he replied in a less harsh voice, “allow me to show you my house, Your Highness.” He nodded obsequiously.
I nodded back, and he waved the fan, motioning us to follow him.
“Make sure everything is ready for when we arrive,” he told Lotte.
She nodded, glaring at me, and walked in the opposite direction from us.
Escorted by armed guards, Master Roxior accompanied us down the opulent corridors of his home, strolling beside us as if we were longtime friends.
As the old man told Amlach that he personally contributed to the design of each luxurious piece of furniture, I was captivated by the stunning mosaics on the floors and the architectural and floral motifs painted on the walls.
Crossing a peristyle enlarged by an apse that housed a fountain with a sea-blue mosaic pool, we entered the large reception room.
It was hexagonal, with curved sides, domes decorated with glass mosaics and gold-leaf tiles, and striking marble-inlaid floors.
Even the smaller dining room featured skirting boards adorned with multicolored marble friezes.
I savored the coolness of every room, trying to hold it inside me to withstand the heat that awaited us outside.
As a final stop, Roxior led us into his private garden, where tall, dense palm trees softened the already dazzling light of the early morning sun.
I wished I were still barefoot so that I could feel the softness of the lawn, so vividly green that I wondered if there was some magic at work, as in my kingdom.
A table was placed between the two elongated armchairs, laden with eggs, ham, cheese, pastries, fresh fruit, and drinks.
After days of fish and chicken on the grill, the slop from the galleon, and the poor loaf of bread accompanied by a glass of milk last night, my stomach growled at the sight of all that delicious food.
“Princess, Commander.” Roxior pointed to the refreshment with the fan. “Your breakfast.”
“Your thoughtfulness flatters and moves us, Master,” Amlach said, dipping into a bow. “We thank you.”
I mirrored his gesture, and, with a small grateful smile, I added, “We could have eaten with the other servants, Master. There was no need for such trouble.”
“You will soon learn, Highness, that, unlike common slaves, gladiators enjoy many comforts.” He beckoned us closer to the table and the armchairs.
“In fact, you shall stay in the main dwelling, not in the servants’ buildings.
” He settled into the chair on the left.
“And given your rank, I think you will yield the pleasure of your company to my wife and me during many meals.”
“We would be honored,” I said, grateful.
“Indeed, Master,” Amlach agreed. He inched closer to the tempting food. He was obviously hungry. “Can we help ourselves, with your permission?”
“Of course,” the man answered, and his eyes took on something of an ambiguous glint.
I reached for the apple pie and the chocolate cake. However, before either Amlach or I could even grab the saucers to fill them, Roxior opened the fan, causing us to stop.
“But first,” the man added with a sly grin, “I’d like you to entertain me with a little . . . performance, if we can call it that.”
“Performance?” I echoed him, unable to conceal my anger. What did he take us for? Some acrobats?
My reaction caused Roxior’s grin to widen, and he started to fan himself.
“The news of your presence has already reached the ears of all the Masters and Mistresses of Rubra, Highness, as well as the fact that I bought you to return to participate in the Games. I’d like to be sure that that scum Escrain didn’t lie about your .
. .”—he breathed in between his teeth, staring at us as if we were a freak show—“talent.”
“All right,” Amlach said, perplexed.
We exchanged a long, cautious look, then I nodded imperceptibly.
“We can do it,” Amlach added resolutely. He turned to the guards who had stayed at the garden entrance, extended his wrists, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully toward the one holding the key to our shackles.
But the soldier didn’t move.
“I’m afraid those must stay on, Commander,” Roxior said.