Page 38 of Black Sea

He explained in detail what had happened to us over the last two weeks, highlighting how I had helped him survive day after day.

How I hadn’t abandoned him.

“She could have left me to die of thirst in the middle of the sea,” he said. “She could have drowned me or beaten me to death once we’d arrived on the island, for me and my soldiers wanted to invade her home like barbarians to take something that does not belong to us.”

I masked my surprise, commanding myself to remain stoic as I observed his profile.

“Yet, she didn’t. She could have left me to my fate when Captain Escrain found us and returned to her family. Yet, she didn’t,” Amlach stated again vehemently. “Even now, she could easily get rid of those shackles and decide to run or kill us all. Yet”—his eyebrows shot straight up eloquently—“she’s not doing it.”

He was so convincing that even I, aware of no longer having the slightest strength to break the metal, found myself believing the lie.

“We humans are taught that elves are cold, calculating, and greedy. Murderers. But Princess Nauriel is none of these. She is kind and gentle and compassionate.”

I hoped nobody noticed that I was breathing faster or heard my heart pounding.

“A moment before the fight between our armies, she even ordered her people not to kill mine.”

It felt as if countless thorns had been suddenly thrust into my back. Gradually, my eyebrows curved downwards, my heart rate slowed, and my breath became barely noticeable.

How did Amlach know that?

Did he understand my language?

“So, I beg you, Master,” he went on. “Do not force her to resort to violence to defend herself. If you want a test of the strength of the elven kind, look at his arm.” He jerked his chin at Escrain’s second-in-command. “He just touched her hair. I dare not even imagine what she would do to anyone who tried to harm her.”

Roxior’s eyes narrowed as he scanned my slender figure underneath my dirty and ragged tunic and trousers. Then he looked at the young man with the dislocated shoulder. “Is it the truth, boy? Did she do this to you?”

“Yes,” he answered in a bored tone. “And together they defeated twelve of our men.”

“Twelve,” the old man echoed to himself, smoking thoughtfully.

“The elf didn’t kill even one,” Escrain’s second-in-command pointed out. Then he hatefully added, “Unlike the man.”

“I said she is compassionate, Master,” Amlach replied ironically, coaxing a small smile from Roxior.

Tired of the arrogance with which Amlach had stolen the scene, Escrain glanced at one of his men, who pressed his club against Amlach’s chest and pushed him back.

Once again at my side, Amlach winked at me to show me that he had the situation in his hands. But I doubted it, honestly.

“Master Roxior.” Escrain moved to a wooden chest against the wall, halfway between us and the old man lying on the elongated chair. He placed a foot on it, one hand on his bent knee, and the other on the hilt of his sword. “How long have you been absent from the Games?”

The outside heat was swept away by the ice that the Master’s eyes seemed to throw at the captain.

Pleased by his reaction, Escrain grinned. “I learned that your latest gladiator, your pupil, had a terrible end . . . You were very fond of him, am I right?”

“Hold your tongue, pirate,” Roxior hissed deadly. “Or I will have it cut off.”

“I give you the chance to avenge him,” Escrain announced with emphasis. “To humiliate those who have taken him from you until they are reduced to plebeians.” He removed his boot from the chest and walked in front of Amlach and me like an orator moving on the stage to conquer the crowd. “The commander and the elf princess. Feared by every gladiator of the Masters of Rubra and the desert tribes. Loved by the people.” He paused, pinning Roxior with a bold look. “Return to the Games, Master, and these two will cover you with glory.”

The old man took his time, his wrinkled face overshadowed by the memory of his lost love. “She’s too dangerous, Escrain,” he said eventually.

“Her Highness is not a threat to you,” Amlach said, his voice so deep it seemed to echo in the room. “You have my word.”

I felt his elbow brushing my arm. “And mine, Master,” I assured with concealed reluctance.

At the melodious sound of my voice, Roxior’s eyes shone with interest. He pulled on his pipe. “And how much do you want for these two specimens?” he asked the captain.

Escrain crossed his arms with a smirk. “Fifty thousand gold coins each.”