Chapter Six The Deal
"To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved."
With the chill of autumn in the air, and the end of summer coming to a close.
Adan spent most of her week held up in her room--per Hollows orders.
She begged Osho to bring her a dummy, and had proceeded to draw a smarmy face, turning it into a decent effigy of Hollow.
She threw her knife with perfect accuracy, over and over again, but it did nothing to lighten her mood.
The Lord of Shadow is officially her owner.
The king still held her leash, but now so did Lennox—officially—for as long as he wanted.
Or until the king wanted her back for himself.
The thought of it made her blood run cold.
If she refused to obey him, she would no doubt be thrown back into the Gladiator Pits.
It was one thing to throw yourself into The Forge—the fighting pits—most slaves used it as supplemental income, but The Forge works on a volunteer basis.
Gladiators are the lowest of slaves. They are forced to fight each other for sport, to the death.
At night, they are locked in iron cages below the fight pits.
Adan was once in those cages for four years at the age of sixteen.
It's why everyone knows her name, she was not only the youngest fighter, but she got out the fastest.
Traditionally, you either have to win a hundred fights, or kill two hundred opponents to win their freedom—Freedom from being a gladiator—there was no freedom from being a slave.
Adan was freed by King Cias himself, he requested her transfer personally.
For the last eight years, she had been trained and moulded in the Sicarii.
The last three years, she has been living in his castle, as the king's private assassin.
She had fought so hard, and so well in the pits, that the word of her skills travelled across Lymia, forcing the kings visit to her final fight.
Adan will remember that day for the rest of her unnaturally long life.
She had known about Cias Dreadmore for as long as she could remember.
It was the first time that she had actually met him.
She should have killed him right then and there-- her life be damned.
She was eighteen at the time, and too young to understand the gravity of the moment.
Now, at the age of eight and twenty, she had a new handler.
She had hoped the High King would be her last.
The blade whipped from her hand, it sunk into the dummies head, its neck was barely hanging on with how many times her steel sunk in.
She had been a slave since she was found by Czandra at nine, twenty years in irons is nothing compared to some slaves in Lymia.
She was young by Lymia standards. Adan got up from her bed, and yanked the blade back out from the dummy.
A knock at the door had her turning, knife in hand.
She hid it behind her back as she opened the door a crack.
A young cleaning maid with a tattoo of a broom on her cheek stood there, with a large box in hand. Adan eyed the fancy, precise script on the envelope attached to it.
"You have a delivery, Miss. Byrd."
"Thank you." She sheathed her blade, and opened the door wide to grab the box. Kicking it shut behind her, before placing the large white box on the bed.
She knew that embossed label on the box--expensive taste. She snatched up the letter, 'Love' written in beautiful script on the crisp envelope. Ripping into it and unfolded the small note.
Wear this.
Do not conceal your brand.
Eight pm. Sharp.
—LH
She ripped the letter into tiny little pieces, like a vicious animal rips at a carcass, and stormed into the bathing room. She gripped the porcelain sink, and ran the tap. Splashing her face, chilling the fire inside her, she rubbed at her neck before looking up at her reflection.
Her one blue eye, and one brown eye, looked back at her.
Her large dark lashes lifted and fell with every heavy breath she took.
She couldn't even go to the Forge (her unhealthy stress release).
She knew if she showed up with bruises, she would be punished.
The role she was going to have to play was something she despised.
A roll she promised herself—mutilated herself—so she would never have to play it again.
Her hand brushed her stomach, as her other palm pressed against the mirror, keeping herself steady.
She had until tomorrow night to get her shit together.
—
She stood naked in her room the next day. Staring down at the open box on her bed. She had waited until now to open it, and was regretted it-- immensely.
The bottom half of the outfit was a long skirt-- if you could call it that.
The skirt itself was made of a black sheer linen.
There was only enough solid fabric to cover her essential bits.
Two large slits allowed for her legs to be complete on display from hip down.
Not that the fabric left anything to the imagination.
Every curve and hollow of her backside would be on display.
The top half was a black corset, that tied in the back and would push up her breasts.
She loathed corsets-- they were challenging to move in, let alone breathe in.
Adan would take a round of torture with the little prince over wearing a corset.
She decided to straighten her massive curls and left it long down her back.
If she was forced to wear this, then she would use her hair as another barrier.
Even if it would be hell to deal with if she ended up in a fight.
She added kohl to her eyes, and rouge for her cheeks, but she didn't cover up her slave tattoo—as commanded.
Adan grabbed a long jacket to fight against the night chill.
Before buttoning up, she strapped one blade to her thigh and headed for Lennox's carriage that was due to arrive any minute.
Her heals clicked on the stone steps leading out of the courtyard.
Water fountains bubbled and the sound of horses and carriages drowned out all other sounds.
A four-in-hand pulled a simple yet sleek black carriage that slowed to a stop in front of her.
She took a deep breath, and the attendant on the back stepped down to open the door, and flipped the steps.
No going back now.
She sighed to herself as she gathered the fabric of her dress and coat.
The scent of fresh rain and sweet whisky consumed the carriage, and she knew her new master was already waiting inside.
Adan had hopped that he would be meeting her there-- had hopped for a few more moments to herself.
She double-checked her mental walls and plopped herself down across from him.
She pulled back the black lace coverings on the windows and stared out at the night sky, thoroughly ignoring him.
Adan could feel him staring, after a moment, he chuckled.
She kept her hands folded in her lap, if only to keep from pulling at her coat.
It was exceptionally hot in the carriage.
"Tonight I need you to play a role, one I think you surmised by the evening's attire."
Her eyes moved very slowly to lock eyes with his, and she let him see that utter look of disdain.
He only chuckled again in recognition. "It's for the best that you start controlling that silver tongue of yours because tonight you will only speak when spoken too. I would hate to have to gag you."
Lennox Hollow looked like he was anything but the sort.
"I know my role." She snapped, baring her teeth. God, this male knew how to get under her skin.
"You're going to have to work on that icy exterior." He smirked.
"Nothing about this means that I have to enjoy whatever this is." She waved her hand between the two of them.
"No." His green eyes turned hard, serious.
"But if you want answers from anyone in that building, this ice -queen-mask needs to thaw, and soon."
There was a warning layered in his tone.
"The sooner we get answers, the sooner you will be free of me, isn't that what you want?"
Hollow gave Adan a sparkling grin that made her feel too much like prey.
"Then why are you making me do this?" Her brows furrowed. "You could accomplish this without me." He could—but then she would have to trust his word on whatever happened inside of Sanctum. This way, she had her own front-row seat to one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Lymia.
"I don't need you." His eyes sparkled. "You were forced on me, and now I have to pivot."
He looked mildly vexed as his dark brows furrowed.
"Even with your notoriety, I didn't think you would be too much trouble. You obey our High King well enough-- from what I have noticed over the years. The High King's loyal dog, ready to spill blood at a moment's notice. But in less than three weeks,
you have been the least cooperative slave I have ever met. So I'll keep you at hand, thank you very much."
He leaned in close, his elbows rested on his knees.
Adan raised her chin and pressed her back into the hard wood.
"Besides, I think you need reminding that, anything can be taken away from you. You don't have any choices, being what you are."
He dropped his tone, it sounded almost caring, but that would be ridiculous.
"So kind of you." She spat. "Being what I am? Call it what it is!"
Adan leaned in close, letting her irritation show.
"And how do you suggest I change from being what I am? A slave! You speak like it's so easy, like you have some fucking clue. You're a lord! Head of your house. What makes you think that you can relate to me at all?"
She was panting, she was so angry. She might as well get it out of her system now.
Better here in the carriage than in front of a room full of affluent elite.
"I wasn't always a lord, and I've been alive a lot longer than you have, love." Adan already knew that, even if Hollow's tone was patronizing.
"How old are you?" She asked, looking back out the window, only so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"Two hundred and Forty Seven." He was born in the years of the Massacre of the Dragons, a very bloody and very dark time.
"I'll make you a deal." He leaned in closer and Adan could smell his aftershave.
She fought her head from turning towards his neck to inhale the heavenly scent.
He was debonaire in a black tailored suit that cost more than her annual allowance.
A crisp shirt, with a matte red tie, and a matching pocket square, while his black hair was slicked back.
Adan had never seen him look more elegant and yet brutal, almost demonic.
A true Lord of Shadows. "When we find Captain Jax, I will buy your freedom in full."
Adan's heart stopped, and then started again, and she laughed.
A loud, full laugh. "You could never afford it."
She managed to wrestle her laughter. "Even if you could."
She turned to face him, but kept her down, looking pointedly at his alligator loafers.
"The High King will never let me go." All laughter was gone from her voice at her harsh reality.
"Besides, why would I want you to be my new master?"
The king was horrible, no doubt, but he was the devil she knew, and she wasn't done with him yet.
"He will." Adan's shoulders dropped, and her head tilted to survey Lennox.
He was dead serious, his bright-green eyes darkened, and the look sent a shiver up her spine.
"And I said freedom, love. I have no intention of becoming your new master. Something tells me it would be too much work to break you."
His nose almost grazed Adan's, she bolted, smacking her head against the wood.
She hadn't realized how close they had gotten.
He grinned with wicked delight and winked, "you're not worth it."
Leaning back into his seat as if it were a throne. Like he had just won some great battle.
"Why?" She croaked, frozen in place, her eyes darting across his face looking for any tell—this male was a brick wall—he gave her nothing.
"That" he pointed his index finger at her, "is not part of the deal." He smirked, his seriousness gone in a blink.
"What do you get out of this? Who's to say you won't change your mind and decide to keep me."
"That's also not part of the deal, and I guess you'll just have to trust me. After all... What do you have to lose?"
"You want me to trust you?!" Her eyebrows shot up.
He shrugged. "You don't have to. Honestly, you shouldn't. You shouldn't trust anyone in this gods-forsaken city."
He wasn't wrong. She looked at him. Really looked at him.
At the dark shadow tattoo curling around his ear and up his neck, the ones peaking out onto his large hands.
All she saw was a demon looking out for himself.
How else did he rise so quickly in the king's ranks?
What did it matter...? She had spent most of her life looking out for herself.
No one else was going to do it, but it was the first time in twenty years that someone had offered her freedom.
Her true freedom. He was a sly, cunning snake who had given her a sliver of hope.
She fucking hated him for it, and she needed him.
"I'll agree on one condition." She was about to make a deal with a devil, but saw no other way around it. The temptation of freedom was too great. The problem is that Lennox Hollow probably knew that.
"And what is that?" He smirked, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"If you break your word, if you turn on me." She let him see the killer in her. Not the calm collected assassin, but the feral bloodhound of the pits. "I'll fucking kill you."
"Deal." He didn't skip a beat and knocked his hand on the roof of the carriage to signal it to move. "Now about tonight." He held up a gold collar.