Chapter 31 #2
Gaius looks flattered as he takes a bite of something and chases it down with a sloppy gulp from his goblet. He tries to set his goblet down, but it lands on something and nearly topples over, sending a splash of drink onto his hand. Instead of using a napkin, he wipes his hand on the tablecloth.
Is he drunk?
With a grin, he says, “It really is a challenge, but it’s a challenge I am particularly suited for.
” He scratches his forehead, just underneath a gilded horn, before rolling into a lengthy explanation of his long-standing relationship with the Tusku—the species that runs the slave-ships.
He claims to have helped the Tusku build their operations to an “economically beneficial scale”, and now the Tusku return the favor by supplying him with “workers” at a discount.
I knew this conversation was going to suck, but it’s hitting harder than I expected.
“So the Tusku had the original idea for the operation?” I ask innocently, as a bead of sweat rolls down my spine.
Gaius takes the bait. “No, no. That was me. I was the one who developed the system, including the ordering process. It’s a clever system, really. Anyone in need of a worker can place a request—with their desired profile, of course—and delivery occurs within sixty days.”
Anyone in need of a worker…
“Of course, the Tusku are very good at screening candidates and ensuring the selected workers have the aptitude to fulfill the job requirements.” He takes another swig and refills his goblet.
Definitely drunk. “For example, the nurses here, including you,” he adds with a smirk, “were selected for their ability to handle a high level of violence, trauma, and isolation.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue, but he doesn’t stop speaking, and with every new word, I’m left feeling a little more violated. The Tusku spied on me for months. They knew everything about me. They chose me for this because of my history and lack of personal connections.
I guess they missed the part about me being a vengeful bitch.
Gaius continues. “The transport ships are another particularly clever bit of engineering I assisted with. They are designed to put the cargo through a myriad of physical and emotional stressors.” He leans forward and whispers, “It helps to weed out the weaker ones before they reach their final destination. You see, if they arrive too damaged for work, it is clear they were never a good fit to begin with. Now, the ships themselves…”
He keeps speaking, but the roaring in my ears drowns him out. They put me in a box to see if I would break? My entire body vibrates. I’m not sure if it’s the rage or the pain or the overwhelming disgust. Probably all three.
Does he really think I didn’t break? That despite everything, I’m still fine and normal?
Because I’m not. That box fucking shattered me, and when I pulled myself back together, everything soft, everything kind and forgiving was gone.
That ship didn’t make me into a better slave; it just sanded me down until I was little more than my sharpest parts.
I press my hands against the table to keep them from shaking. Something cool pricks my palm.
A knife.
I almost laugh. This fucking idiot gave me a knife?
There’s a silent shift of power in the room that Gaius is oblivious to.
He’s given me a weapon, there are no guards present, and he’s drunk.
The stupid bastard. He’s just like every other toxic male in the universe, refusing to believe a woman could be a threat.
Going on, and on, about how brilliant he is.
How he did all the smart things that no one else could possibly do.
And yet, he’s sitting across from someone who was trained to kill, and he has no fucking idea.
Granted, most of my training was focused on keeping people alive, but my second deployment was a shit-show, and I am well-practiced in taking out pieces of shit like him.
With cautious movements, I pull the knife into my lap. Fortunately, he’s so engrossed in his own story, I doubt he’d notice if I stood up and took a shit on his plate.
“That is very interesting,” I say, as I slide the knife along my thigh, blade side up, and tuck it between my waistband and hip.
My sweat-damp skin clings to the metal, and I casually adjust my top.
“It’s remarkable that you were able to develop such a robust system,” I say, hoping he’ll continue to elaborate.
He does, and I can’t deny I’m impressed by how effective Vexar’s techniques are. I don’t think I’m exactly good at this manipulation thing, but Gaius is eagerly spilling his secrets. Then again, he thinks he’s talking to a dead girl, so … it could just be that.
When he pauses, I ask my last ‘question’. “The gladiators must be a remarkable challenge to procure.”
He looks up for a moment, as if considering this.
“Sometimes, yes. But I don’t rely solely on the Tusku for that.
Some of our gladiators are looking for a way to expunge their debt, others have criminal charges and choose the Coliseum over prison.
” He picks something out of his teeth with a fork and continues to ramble, but I have everything I need.
I push the food around my plate, considering whether using the knife is a good idea. It’s probably not, but I’m going to hang onto it anyway. You never know when you might need a weapon.
“Vexar, on the other hand,” Gaius says, pulling my attention back, “has proven that royal blood alone does not make one fit to lead. He is weak-minded, foolish, and unable to consider the consequences of his own choices. A creature like him could never lead an empire. It is absurd to even think such a thing.”
My fork falls to my plate with a clatter. How did we get back to the subject of Vexar?
“I warned him, before he stamped his contract, that he needed to accept the mate chosen for him, but he chose pride over security.” Gaius flicks his hand dismissively and mumbles, “Wanting to prove himself. Ridiculous. What an excellent example of how pride can be one’s downfall.
Although, considering what a horrible king he would be, it is probably for the best… ”
His words seep through me, cold and slow. A glacier peeling back my skin. I feel raw and dangerous.
He’s still speaking. “I suppose you can’t expect someone like him to be fit to lead. Just look at him …”
I’m too angry to focus on his words anymore.
This pathetic shit-stain of a weasel is trying to tear down the strongest man I’ve ever met.
My fingers move to my hip, tracing the outline of the blade beneath my skirt.
The cool metal is a thousand degrees warmer than the ice in my veins.
I promised Vexar I wouldn’t do anything stupid, but this isn’t stupid.
This is the only correct choice right now.
“It is a good thing he will not survive the day,” Gaius says, as he continues to drone on.
I press my aching, bloodied feet into the floor, focusing on the pain. I can’t tip my hand. I need Gaius to see me as meek. Harmless.
He pauses his diatribe and stares at me, clearly waiting for me to speak. It’s the first time he’s asked me a question, and I have no idea what he said.
I clear my throat. “So who should lead the Vhorathi Empire?” I ask, hoping the topic of conversation hasn’t strayed too far from Vexar and his throne.
Gaius points a finger at me. “That is the right question.”
I stare into his dark, dead eyes, waiting for a name. I want to know who this fucker is rooting for.
“Well,” Gaius says, setting down his goblet and standing. “It is almost time for the fights to begin.”
Of course he won’t give me a name. He’s a weak creature who was given power when he should have been given a short rope and a long drop.
He starts walking towards me, and I note the more pronounced wobble of his gait.
My mind clears. I can end this all right now.
He doesn’t see me as a threat, he’s drunk, and the guard is on the other side of the door.
The only guard. I can take one guard. Then I just have to open and close my connection with Vexar, and he’ll find me, and we can leave.
He won’t have to risk his life in the arena.
He won’t end up with extra blood on his hands or guilt in his heart. We’ll be free and safe.
It’s been a long time since I practiced fighting with a knife, but I know I can do this.
I stand and push the chair back, keeping my body angled so my right hand is shielded from Gaius’s view.
Cool metal slips into my palm. I grip the blade underhanded, letting the spine sit flush against my forearm. Hidden. Ready.
“My dear Amara,” Gaius says, reaching for my hand, “it has been an honor—”
I move, letting muscle memory take over as I slash the back of his hand in a right-to-left motion. Blood hits my skin. I’m already moving for my next strike, extending my elbow, aiming the blade’s tip at Gaius’s jugular.
One jab. That’s all I need.
Time seems to slow as the blade moves towards his neck, and then, everything stops. Pressure rolls down my arm, a loud crack splits the air, and I’m thrown backwards by what feels like an explosion. I hit the ground. Air erupts from my lungs. Muscles cramp. Skin burns. That wasn’t an explosion.
Shit, shit, shit! I have to get up.
I scramble to my feet. Where’s the knife? I dropped the fucking knife!
Something impacts my ribs. Not an impact, an electric shock. Hot agony turns my muscles to stone. Then it’s over. I’m on my back. Gasping. Need to move.
“Stop her!” Gaius shouts.
I try to get up. Someone grabs my hair. I need the knife.
Where’s the fucking knife? The second my hair is released, I roll, but the tip of what looks like a cattle-prod slams into my gut, pinning me in place.
Pain consumes me. Every muscle contracts violently.
My skin crawls and burns. Eyes shake. It’s too much.
The tile floor squeaks beneath my skin. He’s not going to stop.
Helplessness spreads as the shock continues for far too long.
Then it’s over. I suck down lungfuls of air, trying to get my bearings.
“Get her out of here!”
I’m dazed, but I know what I need to do.
I spot the cattle-prod only a foot away, clutched in the loose hand of the guard.
The guard who thinks I’m too weak to be a threat.
I get to my knees and lunge for it, but I’m too slow.
Shit. The guard kicks me in the ribs and gives me one more jab for good measure.
As electricity rips through me, I see Gaius shuffle past my field of view. His face is a mess of fear and panic as he grips his hand, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake.
When I can finally suck in a breath, I laugh.
I’ve never heard such a sick sound come out of me before.
It’s the resigned sound of someone who knows they’re already dead.
Ragged and absolutely mad. Maybe it’s the beating, or the lingering rage, or the year I’ve spent in captivity, but seeing Gaius bleed is one of the greatest joys I’ve ever experienced.