Page 6 of Her Manticore Master
"Most likely."
Part of me wants to see if he's been recaptured or escaped, but the practical part knows I should stay hidden. Yet, watching the guards, I secretly hope he succeeds—a dangerous thought.
"He won't make it," Lysa says quietly. "They never do."
"No," I agree, pressing my palm against the cool glass. "They never do."
Yet my heart hammers against my ribs like a caged bird, desperate with something I haven't felt in years.
Hope.
3
RONAN
The cell reeks of piss and despair. I test the shackles around my wrists for the hundredth time, feeling the dwarf-forged steel bite into my skin. Blood crusts the metal where I've rubbed my wrists raw, but the chains hold fast.
"Easy there, beast," Guard Captain Thane laughs from beyond the bars. "Save some fight for tomorrow's match."
"Beast?" I meet his yellow eyes through the iron. "That's the best you can do?"
"What would you prefer?" His partner—a scarred human named Korven—spits into the straw at my feet. "Your Majesty? My Lord?"
"My name is Ronan."
"Names are for people," Thane snarls. "You're property now. Valdris's prize animal."
I bare my teeth. "Property doesn't talk back."
Korven's hand drops to his sword hilt. "It will if we beat the words out of it."
"Try it." I rise slowly, chains dragging against stone. "See how long your pretty faces last."
They step back instinctively, and satisfaction burns in my chest. Fear. Good. Let them remember what they're dealing with.
"Tough words from behind bars," Thane recovers quickly. "Won't save you when the minotaurs tear you apart."
"Minotaurs?"
"Tomorrow's exhibition. Three of them." Korven grins nastily. "Valdris wants to test your limits."
Three minotaurs. Even unchained, that would be a challenge. With these shackles... I force my expression to remain impassive.
"Worried now, beast?" Thane presses.
"Should I be?"
"Last fighter who faced three minotaurs lasted thirty seconds."
"Then I'll aim for thirty-one."
They laugh, but it rings hollow. Deep down, they know what I am. Creatures of storm and fury, born to war and hardened by loss. Their taunts are just whistling in the dark.
"Get some rest, beast," Thane calls as they turn to leave. "Tomorrow's going to be interesting."
"Count on it."
Alone again, I sink back onto the moldy straw. Three minotaurs. The kind of odds that would make most warriors pray to their gods. But I no longer pray; not since the night my brothers were scattered to the winds. I only believe in steel and fury. And tomorrow, these bastards will see exactly what five thousand gold bought them.
