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“Not the rich food they eat, no. You’ve seen the kitchen we have. Nothing to heat or cook with. Just a blender and a sink. We have fresh fruit and vegetables. Some of us nibble on them raw, but most of us have them in a smoothie to get as much inside us as possible.”
“Smoothies aren’t exactly fulfilling.”
“No, but at least they keep us healthy.”
I sighed sadly. “Healthy is a strong word.”
He nodded. “Fine. Let’s go with…not dying.”
“Physically maybe.” I looked his svelte frame up and down, noticing the shadows of bruises from whatever his Master of the day had done to him. “But how about spiritually? How’s that going?”
His eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure you know how that’s going.” His prickly persona appeared for a moment. “We’re all surviving, not thriving. We make do. Just like you’ll learn to.”
My heart panged a little. I had complex feelings when it came to this man. Annoyance at him sweeping me into service. Frustration at his downtrodden-ness. Dislike sometimes. Empathy at others. Confusion most of the time.
Deciding to change the subject, I forced a smile. “If you could eat anything right now, what would it be? Would you ask for a burger or pizza? Sushi or pasta? Me? I’d kill for my mother’s version of malai kofta with a buttery garlic naan, saffron rice, and—”
“Ugh, don’t torture me.” He chuckled with a weary shake of his head. “I hate it when the others play this game. My mouth waters so much it’s disgusting.”
“What would you have?”
He stared toward the night-shrouded cliffs. “I’d murder someone for a banana blossom coconut curry from my cousin’s restaurant. He runs it with his wife, and I’ve never found anything as good.” He shrugged sadly. “It’s been years since I’ve tasted anything that delicious.”
My heart didn’t just pang this time, it broke in half. “I’m so sorry, Peter.”
He shook himself. “Doesn’t matter. No point dwelling on the past. One day, I’ll enjoy rich food again. Might be in the next life, but I hope it will be in this one.”
Unable to stop myself, I reached out and squeezed his forearm. “It will be in this one. I know it.”
His lips twisted with a sarcastic smile. “How? You gonna break us out of here?”
I’m not. But Henri is.
“I just—” I kept my hand on his arm, forcing back the urge to console him with Henri’s true intentions. Blurting out the first question that came to mind, I asked, “Where were you captured?”
He looked at where I touched him, but didn’t move away. “Like I said, my family immigrated to the UK. I was born in Leeds, but a lot of my extended family still live in Jaipur. I went to visit them after I finished school. I liked it better than England and decided to stay. I got a job working as a tour guide, but unfortunately, one night, the English group I was in charge of got too drunk and created a nuisance of themselves. They ended up in a fight on the street, and I went to get help. A well-dressed American man offered to get them back to their hotel. I was grateful. I got into his car and gave him directions, but…”
“He took you somewhere else.”
He stepped away from me and crossed his arms. “You’ve broken two of your new Master’s rules already by the way.”
I frowned.
Rules? What rules?
“What do you mean?”
“He told you not to speak to another. You were to be mute to everyone but him. Yet you’re talking freely to me.”
I reared back. “You mean, he’ll expect me to stay silent…even around other jewels?” I shot a look at the cameras, blinking red and nosy on the stone walls. Henri had conducted that strange ritual to ward off others, not to control me…didn’t he?
Would he honestly expect me not to speak? Was it because he was afraid I’d blab to every slave that he was a cop or because of some draconian level of control?
“All I know is if they replay the footage of you talking to me, then he’ll punish you.”
No, he wouldn’t...
I stiffened.
