Page 35 of Shackled to the Orc

“He said something. About how his portfolio would be worth more with a competent doctor. He let it slip.” She bites her lip. “Maybe Alf has less security? I want to get out of here quickly, but I don’t want to rush things in some foolish escape attempt. I was just…that crowd made me so angry. It’s like we’re just playthings for them.”

I run my tongue over my fangs. “There’s many gladiators who feel that way. They pit us against each other. If we all rose up at once, we could burn the city down. But we couldn’t hold it.”

She lies back against the bed. “Do you think there’s any chance Shug will let me free? It would be easier for you to escape without me weighing me down…”

“No. Not with my seed in your belly.” I get up and sit down on the bed beside her, running my hand over her stomach. “I don’t know how I know, but I just know.”

“I’m scared, Khan. I’m scared that the rest of my life, I’m going to be trapped here, that I’m going to have a child born into captivity…and I’m scared that something awful is going to happen in a week, the next time you enter the arena.”

I lay down on the bed, resting my head in her lap, and she runs her hands over my neck, kneading my muscles, the burgeoning headache fading away before it can develop into a full migraine. Her hands soothe me, but I needed her to have something to focus on.

She takes in a deep breath. “I should go see if anyone needs treatment after the fights. Felix…he didn’t make it, but I think Ethan survived.”

I’d watched Ethan get cut down, an axe through his chest. “I saw him killed in the arena.”

“They thought he was dead. They were bringing him down to the morgue, but I did what I could.”

I pull myself up, and she rubs her temples. “Gods, but I’d love a bath.”

“Take one. The survivors weren’t grievously injured. Scrapes and bumps.”

“Still. If I can help, I have to.”

That’s why I love you.

The thought hits me, and I blink, knowing it’s true. She limps to the doorway. “Are you hurt?”

She looks back, a little embarrassed. “No, you’re just…you’re really big.”

“I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay, just really sore. I took some stillroot, I’ll be okay. Hey, don’t look like that. I loved it. All those people watching…they didn’t mean anything. It was just you and me in there.”

Fuck, but she’s a strong will, never bowing or breaking under the immense pressure. She was snatched up from her life and thrown into this, and she never gives up.

“Just find out what you can about the next fights, okay?” She leaves the room, and I pull myself up. My leg is still grinding in pain, but it’s nothing compared to a few days ago. Her concoctions work magic.

I sit there, thinking, when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I say, and some of the novice gladiators with only a few matches under their belts bring in the buckets of boiling water I always take after a fight, filling the bathtub. I stare at the little divot in the bed where she was sitting, smelling her scent, wishing the answer would come to me.

I wash myself, and she comes back in, stripping off her clothes and going into the bath I just vacated, sinking into the waters gratefully. She’s too tired to say anything, closing her eyes and sighing in the water. I pull on trousers and a tunic, give her a kiss on the forehead, and make my way to the mess hall, where the scent of fish stew makes my stomach grumble.

“It’s bony as hell,” says Garvin, by way of greeting, sitting at the long wooden table with a bowl of stew. Men make way for me, and I get a bowl of my own and sit across from him. The conversation stops, gladiators giving me side-glances. I don’t eat with the others often, and after what happened today in the arena, none of them want to get on my bad side.

I take a bite of soup, the bones crunching in my mouth. Pink fish. I’m always grateful for sustenance, but I have to force myself to eat, knowing it is the leftovers from the estate. That never grated me before. I never felt trapped. I chose my fate, to be here, to endure until I met my end in battle.

“Do you know who I fight next?” Garvin always has his pulse on the fights.

He winces. “I didn’t know what would happen today.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You’re up against a crowd favorite. Little lord Lucian loves him. Three wins under his belt, one against a half-orc. Lorenzo Dusk.”

“Dusk. That name sounds familiar.”

“He was a minor lord. Stopped paying taxes to the overlord of his county, saying that he was plotting some action against the king, I don’t know what. Maybe bullshit, but the people love a story like that. Shame it’ll end so quick. For him, at least. You could probably earn some favor sparing his life, if you can avoid a killing blow.”

I grunt in thanks and focus on my meal.

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