Page 63 of Black Sea

I tried hard to ignore the shiver caused by his warm breath on my cheek and neck. “Why?” I asked Roxior, doing my best not to sound too indignant.

He raised the chalice to his lips, his eyes closely observing what was happening in the hall. “Because, in exchange, they can request anything: more food, additional male or female company, greater comfort, or simpler adversaries in the arena . . . The pleasures of the flesh wield significant influence, Your Highness.” His mood became cloudier. “Or lead to death.”

I glanced sideways at him. Was this what had happened to his lover? Had he refused to give himself to another Master or Mistress because he was in love with Roxior? Could that have been the reason for his murder?

“It’s awful,” I said softly, in a tone that was half compassionate and half disgusted.

“It’s Rubra, Your Highness,” he said through clenched teeth, downing yet another drink as a woman with a regal presence came toward us.

She donned a crimson dress like mine, except for a deep slit on her left leg. Golden dust sparkled on her eyelids, accentuated her prominent cheekbones, and highlighted her full, black-painted lips, enhancing her brown complexion. She was adorned with gold jewelry studded with rubies, and a crown of thick raven curls framed her elongated, high-foreheaded face. Though she was petite like me, she wore high-heeled sandals that brought her up to Amlach’s shoulder.

And her dark eyes were fixed right on him.

“Yrrek,” Roxior greeted her politely, but he made no effort to conceal the anger in his voice.

“Roxior,” she greeted him back, equally sharp, never taking her eyes off Amlach.

“I see that your gladiator has already abandoned you,” the elderly man went on with a note of mockery.

She reacted to the taunt with a sly smile, casting her gaze at her own gladiator, who was with a Master near a column. He was the young man with sharp teeth I had encountered before stepping into the arena.

“As always,” the woman sighed, faking sadness. She looked back at Amlach as if he were her favorite meal. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Roxior snapped his fingers at a servant who had just filled his tray with glasses of white wine. Moments later, the boy stood beside his Master, who took a chalice and placed the empty one in his hand onto the tray.

“Princess, Commander,” he said, showing off a polite attitude. “This is Mistress Yrrek.”

Amlach and I presented her with the same bow we had given to all the guests who came to introduce themselves. However, unlike the other women, she extended her hand to Amlach.

“It’s a real pleasure, Commander,” she said sensually, completely ignoring me.

He hesitated for a moment, and then, with his gaze fixed on hers, he gallantly kissed her knuckles. “Likewise, Mistress.”

I clenched my hand into a fist to refrain from punching him in the teeth.

Her eyes lingered on Amlach’s lips. “You have greatly impressed me today in the arena. You are truly worthy of your military rank.”

He held his hands behind his back, stretching the small chain that connected our cuffs, and gave her a half-smile that was both smug and seductive. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The woman stared at him unabashedly, and I was about to step in front of Amlach to prevent her from gazing at him.

“I believe your talent would have shone even brighter if it weren’t for a specific impediment you had.” She cut me a look full of superiority, then gazed back at him and added in a bewitching tone, “Am I right?”

I clenched my jaw until my molars ached to refrain from snarling at her like a beast, piercing the woman with a look more than deadly.

“Well, no one likes to be tied,” Amlach joked, prompting a fake laugh from Roxior.

The Mistress took a step forward, and my fingers tingled with the urge to seize her hair and push her away.

“I do,” she said sensually.

Amlach ran his eyes up and down her curvaceous form with deliberate slowness. “I thought so,” he said, smirking in a way that made my nostrils flare with the rage surging inside me.

Yrrek brushed his sewn wound, slightly visible beneath the collar of his tunic, then let her hand rest against his chest. She raised her hungry eyes to meet his and, in a soft and sultry voice, proclaimed, “I want to spend the night with you, Commander.”

38

“What did you say?” I exclaimed so fiercely that my usually melodious voice sounded like a terrifying growl.