Page 18 of Her Manticore Master
The question hits unexpectedly deep. Because the answer is simple and devastating: the night I chose to save a girl in Oshta. The night that led to this cage, this chain, this moment.
"Every time I refuse to break," I tell her.
"Refusal isn't the same as choice."
"It's the only choice slaves have."
"Then we're both slaves, aren't we?"
Our exchange, a palpable tension, captivated the noble audience. Valdris, understanding our anger and attraction, rose from his throne, his cruel, intelligent mind already calculating.
"My dear Corrina," Valdris's voice cuts through our heated exchange like silk over steel. "How animated you've become."
She freezes, the color draining from her cheeks as she realizes how public our argument has grown. Every noble in the hall watches with avid fascination.
"Master," she says carefully, settling back into her practiced composure. "I was simply... greeting your newest acquisition."
"Indeed." He glides closer, moving with predatory grace. "And what a greeting it was. Such passion. Such... fire."
I don't like the way his pale eyes gleam with satisfaction. There's a look in them I recognize—the same expression he wore when calculating my worth in the arena.
"Forgive my poor manners," Corrina continues, her voice steady despite the tension radiating from her frame. "The wine has made me... spirited."
"Spirited," Valdris repeats thoughtfully. "Yes, that's precisely the word." He turns his attention to me, studying my face intently. "And you, my fierce warrior. What do you think of my most precious jewel?"
The question is loaded with dangerous undertones. I sense a trap but can't see its shape.
"She has a sharp tongue," I answer carefully.
"Indeed she does. Sharp enough to draw blood, wouldn't you say?"
"If that was her intention."
"And was it?" He looks between us with growing amusement. "I confess, I've never seen such... chemistry between strangers."
The nobles murmur appreciatively, scenting drama. But there's something else in Valdris's expression now—a calculating gleam that indicates he’s out for blood.
"Perhaps," he continues slowly, "we might explore this fascinating dynamic further."
"Master?" Corrina's voice carries the faintest tremor of uncertainty.
"You've both proven so... entertaining tonight. Such delicious antagonism." His smile turns razor-sharp. "I find myself curious about how this story might unfold."
I see the exact moment the idea crystallizes in his mind. The way his pupils dilate slightly. The subtle shift in his posture as inspiration strikes.
Whatever he's planning, it's going to be cruel. Creative. Designed to amuse him while tormenting us both.
"Guards," he calls without taking his eyes off Corrina's pale face. "I have new instructions for our manticore's accommodations."
My blood turns to ice. Because I know—with the certainty of a condemned man watching the noose being tied—that our verbal sparring has just sealed both our fates.
Valdris has found a new game to play.
And we're going to be his pieces.
"This should prove most educational," he murmurs, and his laughter follows us both into whatever fresh hell he's devising.
8
