The King (Zolan Book 3) ✓

22 & 23

Let's connect on Instagram! My username is 1ancientt! 😊

DEE

When the ringleader returns, he's thrilled about Vadnar's proposal to fight all of the gladiators.

Vadnar requests two things: to allow us to meet with the Entertainers and gladiators. He tells the ringleader we enjoy their friendships, and the greedy male is so blinded by the fantasy of tomorrow's ticket sales, that he agrees.

"Anything to keep my champion happy," he says. "I won't display your pet in the arena again."

I grab Vadnar's wrist to ensure he doesn't lash out. He looks murderous right now, but the ringleader doesn't suspect anything because that's Vadnar's typical expression.

The ringleader retrieves me from the cell first. As he leads me outside, Hull and I exchange a knowing look. The plan is unfolding.

The ringleader takes me upstairs, where the entertainers mingle. I pull at my wrinkled brown dress, staring at the ground to avoid the stares as I walk down the hall. Everyone recognizes me as the clown of the arena. I've been suppressing my memories, but the laughter of the audience will follow me into my dreams.

I face the entertainer's lounge with set shoulders. The ringleader looks bored as he orders, "make it quick. I don't have time for you whores to braid each other's hair."

I push the doors open, and the smiles of the beautiful women wither. There's more entertainers here this time. The room smells like flowers and citrus.

An older entertainer approaches me. She's beautiful, her hair falling to her shoulders and a silky black robe covering her. She palms her hips. Every finger wrapped by a ring.

"You keep returning," she says. "But you are not wanted here."

This is the part where I scurry away back to my cell. But today is different, so I hold my ground. "Why?"

"You are an outsider," she quickly answers. "You can never be one of us. You can never understand our relationship with the masters. So go away, slave. You have nothing to offer us." She turns to leave.

"I might be one of their slaves," I reply, pitching my voice louder so more women could hear me. "But I own something precious: a master's heart, and he owns mine."

Her face snaps in my direction like I've burnt her.

"You love a master, don't you? You want to be loyal to him. To only service him. But he doesn't return your affection."

I'm speaking nonsense, hoping it hits home. It's the only conclusion I could come up with that at least one woman in here could relate to. I don't understand their lifestyle of servicing and sharing multiple masters, but I respect it. And I might have a solution to those that want more.

"I can show you how to capture a master's heart. Just how I've done it."

Her hands grab handfuls of her robe and squeezes tightly. She's furious, and I fear I've insulted her.

"At the cost of what, girl?" she grits.

"One day, the masters will need your help. I ask that you're there to support them. Not me, but all the men you've grown to love. I'll be there to fulfill my promise to you."

I'm afraid to blink as I stare at her face. Desperation festers in me, and I want to stop this bravado and fall to my knees and beg. But these women already don't respect me. I can't humiliate myself further.

"We will always be there to support the masters," she grits. "Go now. Before you say something that will get you decapitated."

She must have catched onto the change in the air. The suspense of what's coming. If the guards outside are listening to my conversation and suspect that I'm aiding the plot to escape, they won't hesitate to drag me out.