“Could you excuse me just for a moment, Mistress?” Guen asked Rosie.
“Sure, go ahead,” Rosie answered maybe a tad too enthusiastically.
Mauricio couldn’t see Guen’s face since he was still facing the tank and the crew, but he imagined the speculative look on the woman’s face at Rosie’s thoughtless endorsement of leaving her alone in a field full of men. Guen murmured something and then Mauricio heard her steps growing softer.
“Is she looking at you?” Mauricio whispered while pretending to drink from the cup.
“Yes.” Rosie stepped back a single long step that brought her closer to Mauricio’s shoulders. Almost touching him. Almost. But enough to make Mauricio aware of every atom of air standing between them.
“Did you see the roses?” he asked.
“What roses?” Rosie replied and then, before he could explain, she said, “I missed you.”
Mauricio stood frozen, incapable of speaking. Nobody had ever told him something so intimate.
“I know why you are here,” she added, confusing him with her worried tone. “Don’t say anything; just listen to me. My mothers know everything... about us. I was betrayed by the nurse who saw me outside your cell. She heard me talking to you and decided that she couldn’t cover for my perversion. She didn’t care to drag the Priestess along with me.” Rosie was talking so fast that Mauricio had barely time to take in what she was saying.
“Did they do anything to you—?”
“No, of course not. Don’t worry about me. Nobody is going to do anything to me. I am who I am, after all. I’ll be fine. It’s you I am worried about. The Priestess sent you to Tarin in an attempt to save herself. My mothers discovered what I was up to and flew to the Temple. They were furious with the Priestess for not having informed them about my… plan. And there was that recording…”
Mauricio was barely following her, and Rosie’s voice was a whisper already, when she gasped, “The guard is coming back—” She moved away from him. “The nurse sent my mothers the recording where you entered my room, and they asked the Priestess for an explanation of why you were still alive. She answered that she had already disposed of you. But, I heard a conversation the Priestess had with my doctor, and I knew where she had sent you. I convinced my mothers it was a good idea to anticipate their annual visit here, but I feared I was too late…”
Mauricio could hear Guen’s steps getting closer. Grey was walking toward him.
“It seems that you are too valuable as a semental to be killed right away, so the manager here has decided that some fresh air would improve your… skills… and then, when they have enough semen from you—” Rosie crammed the last words in a breathless sentence, but couldn’t finish.
“Sorry for the interruption, Mistress. I had to take the call. It was your mothers’ assistant. Needless to say, we have to go back immediately.” Guen’s voice was triumphant.
Mauricio felt cold when Rosie walked away, but he slowly took one step after another and met Grey halfway to the trench.
“I understand you’re tired from a sleepless night, but I have a schedule and you’re slowing everybody down. Just as a reminder, nobody gets to eat or sleep until we’re done with the job. And the job today can’t be done if we don’t remove this rock from our path. Is it clear now why you have to get your act together and start doing something?” Grey was pinching the arch of his nose in a pose that betrayed a painful headache.
“Understood,” Mauricio answered, lowering his head. He was sympathetic to Grey’s plea. Don’t worry; I’m not going to be the one who makes everybody else suffer. I don’t want to be a pariah, again. The fact that Tarin seemed more humane than the Temple didn’t mean that men weren’t treated accordingly. This is a slave farm, after all. Absentmindedly, he touched the rigid collar around his neck. I know who I am; this is a constant reminder of my condition. Even when I sleep, I’m not allowed to forget about this metal chafing my skin. What was different now was that his mind was otherwise busy thinking about Rosie. I shouldn’t be thinking of her, at all. But, she has just told me that my life is in danger. How can I stop thinking about that? He had to talk to her. He had to find her and eventually tell her that he had reasons to believe she was carrying his child.
Mauricio worked all day, doing what he was asked to do, nodding and saying whatever was expected of him depending on the tone of the conversation, but he wasn’t present with the other men. How am I going to find her, if I can’t go anywhere by myself? And, even if I come up with a plan and find her, how am I going to say the things I need to say to her? And which one first? The only thing I know for sure is that I’ll be choked to death as soon as I step outside the threshold of my cell. Time is running out; she’s going to leave soon and I can’t think of anything that will help… These and other thoughts kept visiting him and left him exhausted.
Leander, who had watched him the whole day from inside the trench, went to talk to Mauricio when the shift finally ended. They were in line waiting for the van to come back and pick them up. “What’s up with you?” he asked when it was evident that Mauricio wasn’t in a talkative mood.
“May I ask you a question?” Mauricio said instead, facing the other man.
“It depends,” Leander answered.
“You were a semental like me, right?”
“Yes—”
“Do the women ask you to produce?”
“Not anymore. Why?” Leander answered slowly.
“Because it seems that I am being fattened up, so to speak.” Mauricio didn’t like to dance around the words, but talking about his death sentence wasn’t easy. Especially since he had a suspicion that the other man knew something about it. He had heard the same tone from both Arias and Leander, and somehow, things were beginning to make sense, in a macabre sort of way.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Leander tried.
“Thanks for telling me.” Mauricio almost smiled.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You did,” Mauricio lowered his voice seeing that other ears were listening.
“I—”
“It’s okay. You just nod.” Mauricio stepped ahead with the rest of the line. It was their turn to get on the van. He walked to the first two free seats by the window and let Leander sit next to him.
“I know that I was sent to Tarin to die. The manager is waiting for me to be in better shape to exact one last production before being put to rest.” Mauricio enunciated every word to be sure that Leander heard everything. Leander nodded, and he resumed his soliloquy, “The men have been asked to leave me alone. Arias appointed you as my personal bodyguard.”
Leander nodded immediately this time. The van stopped, and again the drive hadn’t lasted as long as Mauricio had hoped. It was either too long, or too short, but never right. He stayed in his seat a moment longer. “Am I missing something?” he asked Leander.
“I'm sorry, I can’t—”
The men sitting behind them rudely asked them to stand up and get off the van.
“There’s nothing I can do but keep you safe and make your life less miserable,” Leander finished while walking out.
“Thank you, I guess.” Mauricio followed the other man in silence. The cafeteria was full by the time they arrived. Arias was waiting for them by the door.
“You must come with me,” the older man said with a somber expression. Mauricio had known him for less than two days and exchanged words with him only two or three times, but he could see that the man had something on his mind by the way he was walking. They went out and strolled around the cafeteria until Arias stopped behind a small tree.
“I want you to have this.” Arias thrust a small object in Mauricio’s hand as soon as they were out of earshot.
Mauricio took it and looked at Arias suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Something you might need. Drink the whole bottle if… things get too painful.” Arias lowered his eyes to the ground.
Mauricio weighe
d the object in his hands and felt the whooshing of liquid. He held it before his eyes and, in the dim light, saw that it was a miniature flask.
“Why are you giving this to me?” he asked. He wanted the other man to say it.
“Because I can’t do anything else for you,” Arias’ voice was a whisper, even though there was nobody out there with them but the wind moving through the trees, making their conversation difficult to hear.
“We need to go back. There are cameras everywhere.” Arias took Mauricio’s elbow and didn’t give him any chance to ask questions.
They went back inside where Leander was waiting for them. Mauricio ate and was then escorted by both Arias and Leander to the main door; Arias saluted him with a trembling hand.
“Sleep well tonight,” the older man said. Leander didn’t utter a word, but gave Mauricio a look that was worth all he wanted to say.
Guen was already unlocking the door for him to come in.
“Are there other slaves on this floor?” Mauricio asked the guard abruptly. He knew it wasn’t wise being disrespectful to a woman, but he was going to die soon, anyway.
The woman interrupted her stride for the briefest moment and then, without taking out the whip, answered him with a question. “Why do you want to know?” She looked straight at Mauricio.
“I saw that I am the only one escorted to this door. Nobody else seems to come here.” Although he knew she wasn’t the usual mean, spiteful guard, he could barely believe she was talking to him.
“You are a special guest,” Guen said with a sad smile.
Mauricio’s expression mirrored hers. She had just answered him, like Leander and Arias had done without having any intention to do so. “How long do you think I will be enjoying this special accommodation?” His voice was light, despite the bitter aftertaste that was rising up his throat.
“Not for long.”
“Thanks for being nice to me.”
“It was nothing,” the woman said, but she looked uncomfortable.
“You care. It’s a rare thing among your race.” Mauricio kept talking. It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow, the look in the woman’s eyes had made him change his mind. “You don’t like the President’s daughter. Why?” He knew that asking such a question was pushing it too far, but he thought that it was worth a try to ask it anyway.
“How dare you?” Guen managed to sound shocked by Mauricio’s liberty.
“Maybe it’s not that you don’t like her. Maybe you don’t like the President.” Mauricio was throwing caution to the wind, and he was so angry at his situation that he didn’t care anymore. He hated that he was already considered dead. Arias had just tried to placate his own conscience by giving him poison. Or maybe the man had given him a strong painkiller. He didn’t know what was inside the little flask tucked under the waistband of his pants.
“You better think twice before opening your mouth.” Guen’s eyes darted around before focusing once more on Mauricio.
He knew he had gone too far, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the aversion Guen demonstrated while in Rosie’s presence. The guard hadn’t reacted to the requests Rosie made. Guen had reacted to Rosie. There was animosity in Guen’s dealing with the President’s daughter.
“I’m not going to talk to anybody, anyway.” Mauricio dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. He was grasping at straws, as if a slave’s word mattered. The problem wasn’t that he was talking too much; there was no danger in that for Guen. But plenty of trouble could come to her in the form of cameras and speakers hidden throughout the hallway. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.” He turned slightly toward the guard and murmured for her ears only.
“You didn’t sleep enough last night,” Guen said, and then she seemed to realize they had been standing outside the slave’s cell for several minutes and opened it for him.
Mauricio entered his palace and looked at the bare walls. “So, this is it,” he said, facing the door where Guen was working on changing the frequency on his collar.
“This is it. Have a nice dream.” Guen punched the last digit of the code securing him inside his cell, and before closing the door, she looked back at him one last time.
Mauricio caught the brief hesitation on the woman’s face. Was Guen going to say something? Or was it regret, already? Did he really want to know? No, not really. He already knew enough. He felt paralyzed by the sensation of being unable to change his fate. Mauricio had always been conscious of his state as a slave, but he had decided to make the best out of it. Now he felt like screaming and yelling about the injustice of it all. And he didn’t want to sleep through his last night on Ginecea.
“Mauricio?” A light tapping on the door woke him up.
Mauricio was surprised that he had fallen asleep after all. His name was repeated several times before he answered back.
“Rosie? What are you doing out there?” He was even more surprised that Rosie had found him.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Rosie whispered.
“I’m glad you came.” Mauricio sat on the floor by the door. He planted his bare feet on the cold tiles and waited for her to say something else. He imagined that she was doing the same on the other side of the wall.
“I hate that we can’t be free to talk,” Rosie said after a long silence.
“But at least you are here now.” Mauricio put a hand on the door, and then he laid his forehead on the metallic surface, ignoring the tingling collar.
“My mothers are barely talking to me. They’re worried that my pregnancy is going to reflect badly on them. Their publicist has been working non-stop to find a way to recover from this PR disaster.” Rosie’s voice was closer to the door now.
“What do you think she will come up with?” Mauricio felt some warmth seeping through the door where he had laid his hand. It was just his fertile imagination, but he liked to think that she was laying her hand on the other side.
“A nice girl from a nice family. The perfect wife to raise this child without scandals.” Rosie tried to sound light, but even through the metal surface, the words came out anything but light. She sounded worried and ashamed.
“Do you already know her?” Mauricio banged his forehead on the door, slowly and deliberately. He was angrier than he thought he could possibly be after being told that he would die soon. Mauricio’s stomach contracted to the size of a walnut. The sole idea of Rosie getting married to some “nice girl” was unbearable.
“I do. My mothers and hers have been trying to marry us off for some time now. Lavinia comes from an influential family loyal to my mothers’ party, and it would be beneficial for everybody involved if we tied the knot,” Rosie spoke slowly, and she seemed to be crying.
“Do you want to marry this girl?” Mauricio couldn’t think straight. He wished he had the power to tear down walls.
“No! I already told you. I wanted to raise this baby by myself. Only us. It’s not that Lavinia isn’t a good person. She is, actually. But I don’t love her. I’ve always looked at her as a good friend, but nothing more than that. I don’t want to spend a lifetime with her. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.” Rosie was crying and her voice came through the wall hoarse and sad.
“Who is…?” Mauricio wanted to ask her if she had changed her mind about raising the child alone, since she was using the past tense, but was afraid to ask.
“If it were possible, I would like to be with you.” Rosie let out the words all together, barely breathing.
“There are cameras everywhere,” Mauricio said, soon after his heart had started beating again. He wanted to say anything else but this. He wanted to confess that if he wasn’t going to die anyway, he would have given his life just to spend time with her like they were doing now. He wanted to say that the pain he was feeling at knowing that she was going to be betrothed was the worst torture he had suffered in his whole life. He wanted to implore her not to marry, not to someone she didn’t love. Not ever.
“I don’t care,�
� she answered, and Mauricio could hear that she was hurt by his words.
“But I do. They’ll kill me soon, but you’ll have to face the ire of your mothers. Your life will be ruined if the wrong ears listen to what you just said. Someone could use it to blackmail your mothers, and your life would never be the same. You’ll be accused of perversion. There is no worse destiny for a woman, and you know it.” Mauricio tried to explain the reasoning behind his apparent coldness. He didn’t care about a President who kept him under slavery—and ironically, in any other occasion he would have rejoiced at the idea that he somehow could be the cause for the downfall of the purest of the Ginecean pure breeds—but he couldn’t bear the idea that Rosie would suffer because of him. In a flash, he realized that he was betraying his race by trying to protect a woman.
“I wouldn’t worry about my reputation being tarnished. I am afraid that my mothers already think the worst of me. I deceived them; I blackmailed the Priestess; I am pregnant…”
“Yes, but openly talking to a man is blasphemy,” Mauricio interrupted her. “Aren’t you worried of what could happen to you if this conversation is being recorded?”
“Even if someone is listening, I doubt that my mothers and the Priestess would gain anything by exposing me or making any of this public.”
“Still, I don’t understand why you are risking angering them over a slave. You don’t even know me. We have only exchanged a few words.” Mauricio couldn’t believe that she was serious.
“Because I won’t live with regrets. This could be the last time you and I talk to each other, and I won’t waste the opportunity to tell you the truth. Not to save a reputation that isn’t even mine. And because you are the only friend I have. You never saw me as the President’s daughter. You never cared who I was. You accepted me. Not the brat, not the pure breed, just me. You never had anything to gain by our acquaintance, quite the opposite, actually. I caused your disgrace, and I feel guilty because of it. I don’t want you to die. I can’t accept that I am not going to see you again.” Rosie was sobbing.
The Priest Page 10
