by Esme Devlin
Baron.
Baron and his strange threats.
I’d tossed and turned all night, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He left. He walked away. I should have felt relieved, but instead, it merely felt like the worst was still in front of me.
And the worst is now unknown.
Ruby. I need to speak to Ruby.
I scramble up from the floor and throw on the nearest robe. It was the one I was supposed to give her as part of our bargain, but with everything else that happened I forgot all about it.
I’ll need to be quick. Denim will be waiting for me. But Denim is far more patient than Maxim.
Ducking out from the curtain, I nod to the man who guards my door, wondering where the hell he was last night when I needed him.
Maybe Baron paid him off.
It wouldn’t be the first time a guard took a bribe. Or maybe the man took one look at that face and stood obediently to the side.
Either would be plausible.
Maxim doesn’t bother with electricity in our tunnels. It cuts out so frequently that he prefers just to use the torches, rather than pay twice. I take the familiar route to the place where Ruby dwells, stopping for nothing and no one while my guard follows a few steps behind me. No doubt he will report to Denim about this little detour, but I’ll deal with those consequences later.
When I arrive at Ruby’s cave, I don’t bother shouting for her. Her guard, Conrim, is posted outside, showing me she’s here, and she never bothers to warn me of her presence before she barges in on me.
It’s even darker in here than it was in the tunnels, and my eyes take some time to adjust. The main bulb is switched off, but her tea-light burns on the dresser.
I’m about to call out for her when the sound of snoring stops me.
Loud and deep.
I get the feeling she’s not alone, and when my eyes locate the sound I confirm my initial suspicions. “Ruby?”
“Shh,” she whispers, her tone soft. “Don’t wake him. I’m still sore.”
I swallow and nod, hoping she can see me better than I can see her. The sound of rustling tells me she’s getting up, and a moment later I hear her move around the bed.
“Are you all right?” she asks. “I heard what was happening, but I couldn’t get away.”
“Fine,” I say. Lies, but that’s what you say, isn’t it? “Can we talk?”
“Of course. Come on, not in here.”
She walks around the bed and hooks her arm around mine, taking me with her as she heads toward the door.
The second we get outside, I begin telling her everything that happened last night. Our two guards are deep in conversation, but she drags me farther away while the words spill out of me. Slow at first while I try to make sense of it myself, and then it all comes out in a huge jumble, ending with Baron and our encounter in my bedroom.
“I remember you telling me about men like him,” I say. “The crazies. What do they want? I don’t know if he wants to fuck me or hurt me. Or both.”
“I don’t think he’s one of the crazies,” she says, shaking her head. “Well, I mean, he is crazy. But he’s not one of them.”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t… you know what this place is like, kid. It’s all rumors. There’s a chance none of it’s true.”
“I would rather know than not know,” I say. “Tell me.”
Even in the semidarkness, I can see her scrunch her face up. Ruby is my friend, and she knows it’s not like me to want to know anything. “Are you sure?”
“I need to know what I’m up against,” I say with a shrug, trying to act like it’s no big deal while inside I want nothing more than to get back inside my box.
It was safe in there.
But I need to remember that box isn’t safe anymore.
Ruby sighs. “All right. They say he is like Maxim, but the place he runs is far worse than this. He’s a sadist. Utterly mad. Where Maxim does this for money, he runs his place for enjoyment. A place that makes here look like a children’s day out.”
“What kind of place?”
“No one knows. No one knows because when a girl goes there, she is never seen or heard from again.”
I blink at her, speechless.
“Sapphire, I’m sorry,” she says. “This is just rumors.”
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I turn away before she can notice the wetness in my eyes. “We thought it was just rumors yesterday, too, and look what happened.”
Ruby sighs and pulls me in for a hug. I let her hold me for a few moments, taking in the smell of her familiar sharp perfume.
As if she’s had an epiphany, she jerks me back and looks down at me. “He didn’t take you, though. Think about it, if he is truly as bad as they say, why wouldn’t he have just had his way with you? Or taken you away there and then? He didn’t, which means there’s hope. Maybe he changed his mind.”
I give her a smile that I don’t feel and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
She runs her fingers through my long messed up ponytail. “I’ll speak to Conrim as soon as this client is gone. He is usually quite knowledgeable, and I have a few juicy bits of gossip about Opal to trade him.”
Giving her a singular laugh, I release my hold on her. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says. “Now go. You don’t want to piss off Maxim any more than you have already.”
The cavern is still quiet when I arrive.
Normally, my mornings are spent alone in my room. I’m wakened with breakfast—apples, currants, and plums if the season is right, and the dried variety if it’s not—and then I’ll read for a while until the men fetch the tub of hot water for bathing.
By the time I’m ready for practice and show my face down here, it is closer to lunch than breakfast. Normally, the stalls are open and there are people milling around. The pups pester, begging to show you a trick in exchange for an earring or a hair-clip.
This morning there is none of that.
The lights are still off and there is only silence.
I enter the main tent. Denim is sitting on one of the benches, alone and apparently staring into nothing. I approach and sit down beside him, but if he notices me he doesn’t let on.
“Denny?”
I watch him in the veiled shadows. His jaw ticks just a fraction, as if he’s fighting not to answer me.
“You can’t give me the silent treatment,” I decide aloud.
He turns and lifts an eyebrow at me. “Your face is a mess,” he says, before turning back around.
“I’ve not had my bath yet.”
Denim nods once.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I’m ordered specifically not to tell you. I’m only to show you,” he says.
“Does it involve staring into an empty ring?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
He nudges me with his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have done what you did.”
I swallow. “I know.”
“Maxim is angry.”
That much was obvious from his reaction this morning. But I wasn’t thinking about that last night. And I especially wasn’t thinking about how Maxim being angry with me might hurt Denim. “I know.”
“If Baron hadn’t…” he trails off, letting the words hang between us like a heavy curtain.
“If he hadn’t what?”
“Never mind,” he says, shaking his head and standing up. “I speak out of place.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but the fact that he doesn’t want to say it means I want to hear it. No more burying my head in the sand. “Denim, please. Tell me?”
He shakes his head again, firmer this time. “No. Maxim was right. The only way I can help you now is to prepare you for what’s coming.”
Maxim was right about what?
But Denim is already making his way to the center of the ring. Clearly, the only hope I have of fin
ding out what the hell is going on lies in following him.
“Remove your robe and stand right here,” he says, drawing a line in the sand with his foot before he continues on to the backstage curtain.
I do as he says, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
He’s acting the way he always does when I’m about to learn something new.
It’s like there are two sides of Denim, the one where he sits outside my door like an old faithful German Shepard, where he laughs with me and steals me treats from the kitchen. And then there is the other side. The side he’s showing me now. This one only comes out when there is a distinct possibility of me getting hurt. It’s like his way of disassociating himself from that.
When he returns from backstage I’m surprised to see he is alone.
“Where is Romanov?” I ask. Romanov is my partner. He’s the one with the real skill, mostly. He’s the one who’s trained to hurt me while at the same time ensuring I don’t die.
“Romanov is not part of this act,” he says. It’s then I notice the thick black straps strung across his shoulder.
“Lie down on your stomach,” he says, nodding down to the sand.
Normally, on those mornings where I’d had my breakfast and my bath, and the world outside is busy, I’d have done it straight away. No questions asked. And why not? I’m the special one. The one who doesn’t get hurt. Not really hurt.
This morning, I don’t especially feel like listening to him.
“Why?”
He sighs. “What is wrong with you? It’s as if you’ve been switched with a changeling. Get on the floor.”
“Denim?”
“Now. Do not make me fetch Maxim.” His face is set in a hard line, telling me he’s quite serious.
I get down on my hands and knees, then drop to my stomach, tilting my head to the side so I can watch what he’s going to do.
The sand is cold beneath my skin and shifts around my cheek like a pillow. Denim crouches down and takes hold of my ankle, bending my knee and pulling it back until it connects with the top of my thigh.
I can’t really see what he’s doing, but I can feel it.
He’s tying me up.
Thick straps cover my ankles, which he secures to my wrists with interconnected chains. Then I hear the click of a lock, a padlock?
“What is this?” It’s hard to breathe like this, never mind speak, but I manage to grit the words out.
Denim takes a step back and throws a metal loop with a few keys on. The set jingles in the air and then drops into the sand several feet away from my face.
“Practice,” he says. “Free yourself.”
I take a second to steel myself. I’m used to having eyes on me, hundreds of eyes on me… but somehow his single pair feels worse than a whole crowd-full.
He’s standing feet planted a shoulder-width apart in the sand behind me, arms crossed over his chest. His face is hard.
“The longer you wait to begin, the longer this will take.”
With a sigh, I start trying to work my way toward the keys.
The muscles in my thighs strain as I try to use my knees as frog-feet. The only thing I achieve is turning myself ninety degrees in the wrong direction.
Maybe I can roll toward it?
Inhaling a deep breath, I edge my position until my legs are almost flipped, but my shoulder gets in the way and stops me. I roll back into the sand on my tummy but use the momentum it creates to push back.
This time I manage to flop over onto my back, my body weight crushing my ankles and wrists.
The next roll onto my tummy is easier, and I make three more rolls before I have to stop for breath.
“Go,” Denim says.
I continue until I land on top of the keys and then have to do an extra flip, squirming around in the sand until I feel the cool metal between my fingers.
There is one lock, and five or six keys.
I try.
I try.
And every time they slip through my fingers before I can even get the key to fit.
Each time it happens, I lose track of what key I’m supposed to be trying next.
My arms ache and I’m panting when Denim looms over me.
“Disgraceful,” he says. “I’m going to lunch. Come and find me when you’re free.”
Hours later, I sit on top of Emerald’s cannon with my legs dangling down over the side, watching the world around me.
An hour ago, the space was awash with bright colors and glittering costumes.
Now Ruby is outside performing, and everyone else has gone back to their dwellings to rest before the bidding begins. Maxim has already deemed that like last night, there will be no final performance tonight.
Which makes me the final performance.
The fact that I spent the entire day practicing getting out of those ties means I’ll be expected to do it tonight. Neither Maxim nor Denim have told me that, but I can work it out.
This is my punishment, no doubt.
For what is more embarrassing than being tied up and forced to flail around in front of a hundred pairs of hungry eyes? You can use force or you can use pain, but nothing puts a woman in her place quite like humiliation does.
They’re teaching me a lesson, of that I’m certain. But there is another possible reason for this, and it’s been nagging at me all day. Last night was only different because the honored guest, Baron, appeared to be bored. And now I cannot shake the feeling that all of this is to mitigate against the risk that he might be bored again.
Which means there is a high possibility he will be out there tonight.
I haven’t checked yet. How easy it is to revert back to burying my head in the sand when it suits me.
But regardless of who is or isn’t in the crowd, I will do my best not to care.
I’ve been practicing all day without a break.
Every time I got out, Denim would come back and take me back to the start before tying me up again. I think it was the fourth attempt when Scout came with his friends and sat down to watch me. He drew odds in the sand and took bets for how long it would take me to escape. They got bored long before I finished.
And now I’m exhausted—every bone and muscle in my body aching—but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before. I managed to get the escape down to around ten minutes.
Tonight they have made it slightly harder by dressing me in a long sheer gown, with fabric that attaches to the shoulders and falls down my back before connecting with bangles on my upper-arms. This will no-doubt get in the way of the padlock, but I’ll rip the dress to shreds and flail around naked if I have to.
The sound of the crowd cheering outside startles me from my thoughts, and a moment later Denim and Maxim appear in front of me. I don’t need them to tell me to come. Ruby appears from behind the curtain, looking hot and panting for breath. Our eyes meet as we pass each other, and I give her a weak smile. I’ll see you soon.
With a hand on each of my shoulders, they lead me out into the center of the ring and push me down onto my knees. I scan the crowd, looking for that glint of metal in the blue lights.
Nothing.
Nothing.
There.
How did I not see it before?
He sits alone in the middle of the front row, leaning back in his chair with his arms stretched around the seats next to him. It’s as if he owns the sand, the tent, the whole damned world. Then again, in these current times, perhaps a man with the face of a devil has more chance at owning the world than most.
Maxim is holding me up on my knees while Denim connects the straps together.
My eyes are still on Baron, but a flick of his head indicates I should look behind me.
I turn around, much to Maxim’s annoyance, and see a large cube covered with a black sheet.
My head pivots back to him. I wish I could see his face. I wish I could know what he’s thinking.
What are they doing?
This time when I glance behind me again, I look a
t my wrists and ankles. Where there was one padlock during my practice, now there are five. Each limb connected to the next one, with a big one in the middle locking them all together.
My heart sinks. I will be here all night.
The men drop me into the sand while Maxim addresses the crowd. I have heard this speech a thousand times, I don’t even try to listen. My heart is beating too loudly in my ears to hear him anyway.
Denim is moving toward the black box.
I’m going to do the routine inside a box?
He pulls the cover off just as Maxim shouts, “Behold.”
The crowd gasps.
I almost pass out.
The black box is not a box.
It’s a tank, filled to the brim with dyed dark blue water.
I’m trying to shake my head at Denim, but it’s impossible with it lodged in the sand. Instead, my eyes plead with him.
He can’t even meet my gaze.
Arms reach around my shoulders and the two men lift me up between them, turning me around to face the tank.
I blink.
I’m staring my own death in the face, and I don’t know what to do. Screaming feels… clichéd and ridiculous, and my throat is too tight.
All I can do is stare. I thought I was staring death in the face last night, in my bedroom. Baron’s words ring in my ears. He told me I should have gone with him willingly if I wanted to live, but I didn’t listen.
But then he made the deal with me.
Why would he make the bargain with me, only to return the next night to watch me die?
Perhaps he changed his mind. Ruby’s words.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Why tell me to paint my face only to throw me in a tank of water? Why teach a girl to read only to let her die? Why let me off the hook with Hum last night only to drown me the very next day?
Why?
I wish I knew.
It feels like they’re all fucking with me. Every single one of them.
But there is no more time to think about it.
None of it matters anymore.
They lift me up to the edge of the tank and let me hang there. Maxim reaches over the side with the keys, letting them fall into the water. I watch the ripples expand as the keys drift quickly to the bottom and land on the floor of the tank. I’ll do the same shortly.
