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“Have I offended you?”
“Yes!”
“And the insect of a man trying to reach completion while staring at your ass didn’t?”
“He didn’t touch me, did he?” She narrows her eyes.
“Would you rather me kill the bee after it stings you?”
“How about we table this conversation until we’re in private?” I signal to the crowd still watching us. “Let’s go find out if we’re being fed today!”
I look over at Dessin for backup, but he’s still pressing his fist to his mouth, stifling a laugh.
Warrose’s dilated eyes flash to Dessin, and he cracks a small smirk.
“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
“I’d have ripped it off his body.”
“You’d need a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass to find it,” Warrose deadpans, and they both burst out into deep, throaty laughter.
Changing out my wet uniform for a dry one, I give Ruth a quick hug.
“I heard you scream and thought something bad happened to you,” I whisper.
“Something bad did happen to me. The chicken coward tried to defend my honor and probably put a target on my back,” she seethes.
I roll my eyes. “I thought you were hurt. I got scared.”
Ruth wrings out her wet, curly hair, studying me with pitying eyes.
“My safety isn’t a burden you need to carry, okay? You have enough on your plate trying to get us out of here.”
I do have a lot on my plate. Dessin has a lot on his plate. But we wouldn’t have a plate without them. No matter what she says, the fear of losing her in this place won’t go away. I won’t be able to truly be at peace until I know my family is safe.
But I nod anyway.
We walk into the dining area with caution, stiffening our spines and drying our mouths. Will they feed us today? Will they forget about our confrontation yesterday?
We don’t make it three steps in before the serving staff slowly, intentionally turns their backs to us. Shunning. Making a statement.
Dessin and I stop walking. It takes a sudden surge of self-control not to reach for his hand, seek his warmth.
“Fuck this,” Dessin growls, taking a damning step forward to confront the assembly line of prisoners.
I snatch his elbow before he takes another step.
“Don’t. Remember the three-strike rule.” I keep my face neutral. Keep my chin high. “We’re valuable to Vexamen. They won’t kill us this way. They’re just playing with us.”
If we mess up now, the consequences could be astronomical.
Dessin huffs through his nose, eyes still burning a hole through the prisoners serving food. Hands tighten around air, veins pulsing over his forearms. He takes one look back at Warrose, silently communicating his bloodlust.
“Shit,” Warrose scoffs, stomping to an empty table.
“I lost my appetite in this disease-infested toilet bowl anyway.” Niles pinches his nose. The smell is rank. Today it’s a mix of onions, body odor, and rotting meat.
But I can’t stop my stomach from begging for a scrap of food. It twists and ties itself into an aching knot. I haven’t eaten since we left Demechnef. How many days has it been? We’re lucky we’ve been drinking the water that dumps down on us from the broken pipe in the showers. Otherwise, dehydration would have been the silent killer.
