Page 45 of The Madman and his broken Princess
A cleaning crew dressed in white bodysuits entered the pit and cleaned up the blood and remains with a water hose and a broom. The sharp hiss of the water hose raised goose bumps on my skin, and I shuddered as memories from long ago emerged, making my belly roil.
Nestore leaned forward and touched my forearm. I met his gaze, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. Maybe not everything was lost.
“You are safe.”
“Am I?”
He removed his hand, a cold mask sliding over his face. Once the cleaning crew left, two men stepped out to fight each other. If any of the spectators were disturbed by the display in front of them, they hid it extraordinarily well. Or maybe this was just daily business, and they had grown used to it.
Nestore motioned to a server I hadn’t noticed before. Most people had to go to the bar on the highest rank if they wanted something to drink but not Nestore of course.
“Red wine for me,” he said before he settled back in his armchair with a bored air. “What do you want, Amelia?”
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep anything down, but I didn’t want to give Nestore the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. “A glass for me as well.”
Surprise crossed Nestore’s face. “You have developed a taste for red wine?”
I shrugged and leaned as far back in my seat as I could so I didn’t see the lower part of the pit. “I’ll develop it now,” I said petulantly. Maybe alcohol would make this display of violence more bearable. “It might help me blank out how cruel you’ve become. How arrogant and merciless and drunk on power.”
His smile hardened. “Ahhh, I see.” The server returned with two glasses of dark red wine. I wished it wouldn’t remind me quite so much of blood.
I took the glass. Nestore raised his own with a smirk. “To the woman who broke my heart, my future wife.”
He waited expectantly for me to clink my glass against his. With a hard swallow, I complied. At the high clanking sound, the little hairs on my neck rose. Below us in the pit, the grunts and pained gasps of the fighters increased in volume.
I took a sip of the wine; it was tart and strong, with a faint berry note, and the heat traveled down my throat, then up into my head. “Will you ever forgive me for running?”
Nestore took a swallow, his expression pensive. “I would have forgiven you almost anything, Amelia. But this…” His eyes bored into mine. “You betrayed me.”
“I never did anything against you. I never even thought about another man.”
“You didn’t cheat. But you didn’t stay.”
I looked away from the deep hurt and accusation in his gaze. I sipped at the wine, feeling a soft buzz that felt almost comforting. “And now you want to make me pay. You want to get even.”
“I can’t, Amelia. Nothing I could do would cause you the same agony I felt when I realized you had abandoned me.”
Nestore made sure at least two guards were always posted outside my door and accompanied me wherever I went in the house. I wasn’t allowed outside yet, not even into the garden without Nestore.
Nestore was gone all the time. I wasn’t sure why he avoided me. Maybe he worried he’d leave bruises that would ruin my wedding outfit if he were around me. I spent my days in the library, feeling alone and lost. The only time I was allowed to leave the premises was a few days after my arrival, when I visited Francoise in her tailor shop. My two guards led me to a car where Niccolo, Nestore’s cousin, was waiting. Surprise washed over me at the sight of him leaning against the driver’s door. I hadn’t dared to ask Nestore about him, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had killed his cousin in a fit of rage after I ran away.
His expression remained cool, almost hostile, as I approached him. He wore black pants, a black dress shirt, and a long black coat. The only thing missing was a hat.
“You’re alive.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with a hint of apprehension. He stepped away from the driver’s door so one of my guards could get behind the steering wheel.
“Given Nestore’s obsession with death and human bones, I don’t think anyone’s safe from becoming a trophy.”
I didn’t miss the flash of worry on the younger guard’s face.
“You are,” Niccolo said, with a bitter twist of his mouth.
“He’s forcing me to marry him.”
“It could be worse. Count yourself lucky Nestore hasn’t chosen another fate for you.”
I shook my head at his callousness. “And you are his henchman?”
