Torn (2 page)

Now we’ll see how haughty he is
, Honey Wine thought as a tall, thickly-muscled metal smith stepped up to one of the smoldering fires built near the table. He chose a branding iron made in the shape of a tiny, curved sword, the traditional symbol of Sophianna. He heated the iron over the fire.

The prisoner’s face was turned away, so he didn’t know what was planned, but he did comprehend it involved pain. His expression tensed, flesh pulled tightly over his prominent cheekbones. He seemed to struggle to regulate his breathing.
Fear
. She smiled.
It’s about time
. Honey Wine shook her head. The rituals of the prison had always disgusted her. Was she becoming as violent as her sister?
No, it’s just him
. What was it about him that made her dislike him so much?

The smith stood with the iron, and Honey Wine’s fingers bit into her arms as she crossed them tighter over her chest.

At the first touch of the iron to his muscled shoulder, the beast’s eyes widened, frantic with shock and pain. He struggled futilely in the bonds. For a moment, his eyes fixed on Honey Wine’s with a pleading expression. An agonized, guttural sound rose in his throat.

The brand was removed, but the odor of burnt flesh permeated the room.

The iron sizzled as the smith dropped it in a bucket of water by the fire.

The beast was taken from the table and dragged back to his cell. He stumbled a bit, still unsteady from the branding, and dropped onto the bench.

“He’s all yours, Honey Wine,” Bron sneered before walking away.

“This beast’s tough,” Timus whispered to Honey Wine as she passed.

“That should make my sister happy. He’ll last a long time…up there.” She approached the prisoner. “Let’s hope the smith did his job cleanly. It will save him from having to do it again.”

The beast’s gaze snapped at her, as if he understood. Perhaps he did. She smiled wickedly, and for the first time his expression changed. It grew hard, hateful, but only for a moment.

Honey Wine examined the mark on his back. It appeared red and painful, so she cleaned it with more gentleness than she’d treated him the previous day.

Afterward, she applied salve. As she worked, he leaned his forehead against the jagged rock wall and closed his eyes, but when she bent to shut her supply case, his hand touched hers.

With a gasp, she jerked away and reached for a pair of shears, but the only motion he made was to pass her a wad of clean cloth she’d placed aside and forgotten.

Glaring at him, she took the cloth and tucked it into the box. She stepped out of the cell, vaguely hearing some comment Timus made, but unable to shrug off the sensation of the beast’s hand on hers. His touch had been faint for such a large hand. He’d touched her more tenderly than she’d cared for any of his injuries. He had to, or else he knew he’d be punished, she told herself. A glance over her shoulder revealed the beast lying face down on the bench, one of his long fingers trailing along the dirt floor.

* * * * *

The following afternoon, Honey Wine paused by the training pit on her way to the herbarium. Timus guarded the gate, and they exchanged greetings. The pit was a vast cave about the size of the great hall in the palace above, empty, save the herd of leather-clad men who paced and wrestled on the packed dirt floor. Barbed wire gates, the height of a war ship standing on end, blocked the entrance.

Honey Wine stared in, wondering if she would ever grow hard to the horror of the prison and the Entertainment it provided. Ten of the beasts fought with each other, sparring matches to sharpen their skills for the Entertainment. The beasts knew the importance of their training. Only the strongest and the best would survive when they were called above.

Two of the largest, most heavily muscled ones grappled in a corner, raising clouds of dust until one finally pinned the other to the ground. Their panting breaths echoed throughout the cave and into the corridor. Dirt clung to their perspiring bodies.

As the dust cleared, Honey Wine noticed
him
squatting alone by a mossy wall. The muscles of his legs strained against the leather pants, and though he watched the others, he seemed indifferent to their squabbles.

“He won’t last long.” Timus nodded toward the newest prisoner. “He won’t practice. He’ll die.”

“Perhaps it’s what he wants,” she said. “Better than living here.”

“Will you be silent,” Timus hissed, genuine fear in his eyes. “Talk like that is what got you here in the first place. Sister or not, the next thing The Mistress will do is kill you.”

Honey Wine curled her lip in irritation, about to reply when shrieking sounded down the corridor. Bron dragged a short, scrawny peasant toward the pit, pinning the man’s wiry arms behind his back. Terror shone in the peasant’s dirt-streaked face as he shouted, “No! Let me go! Have mercy on my family. I have a wife, children. I…”

Bron ignored his pleas and hurled him through the gate which Timus had opened. The clanging metal rang through the corridors as Timus locked the gate.

All the beasts inside turned to the cowering man, their eyes gleaming with blood-lust, growls erupting from their brawny chests. They advanced on him, all except one.

The silent newcomer stood, brow furrowed, watching the crowd.

The beasts raced toward the peasant who screamed in fear and ran to the gates, grasped the bars, and shook them, so lost in terror he didn’t notice the barbs digging into his flesh.

“Is this really necessary?” Honey Wine hissed through clenched teeth.

“It whets their appetites for the Entertainment.” Bron shrugged. “Like dogs before a fight.”

The beasts inside tore the peasant from the gate, kicking and shoving him as he fought their hulking forms with his meager strength.

“This is wrong,” Honey Wine stated.

Bron laughed. “You always were too soft. It’s amazing you ever made it into the guard.”

“I got into the guard by passing the test and beating out the likes of you!”

She glared at him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She ached to fight him, tear him apart as the beasts inside devoured the poor wretch behind the bars.

“Hey! Look at this,” Timus called.

Bron and Honey Wine turned back to the spectacle inside.

The newcomer stood in the midst of the others. He fought with a panther’s speed, using fists, feet, elbows, and knees. He dodged blows, took many, but never lost concentration. Prisoners flew into the dirt, several crawling away, cradling injured wrists and arms, others simply lying where they fell.

“I never would have guessed…” Timus murmured.

Even Bron’s eyes narrowed in surprise as he watched the fight.

A foot caught the newcomer in the abdomen, and he staggered, blocking a meaty fist from one side but missing an elbow on the other. Blood splattered his face, but he returned the three blows, sending the last of the beasts crashing into the rock wall.

Except for several groans and the men’s harsh breathing, there was silence.

He stood in the center of the cave, fists raised, his gaze sweeping the pit for anyone willing to continue the fight.

“Why do you think we chased him so long yesterday?” Bron whispered.

“He’s a Knight of the Ruby Order.”

Timus and Honey Wine shot disbelieving looks at Bron.

“You stole one of them?” she said.

“Why not? He was on our land.”

“What in the name of the Twin Goddesses was he doing?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Administering aid to a bunch of sick women and children?”

“Something like that.” Bron shrugged. “It’s their own fault if they get caught.

Bunch of troublemakers. There are many who want their order wiped out.”

“And many who think they’re important,” Honey Wine argued, looking to Timus for support.

“Mostly peasants.” He shrugged. “Women, children, the old…”

Her disgusted look switched between the two guards, then back to the prisoner who offered his hand to the terrified farmer. Suddenly a dagger embedded in the small man’s chest. His mouth opened in a silent, bloody froth, and he reached for the Knight who grasped his arms and lowered him to the dirt as he died.

Bron shrugged. “I had to kill him. We can’t be housing bait on top of everyone else.”

The Knight stood, his blood-streaked face frozen in its usual calm expression. He walked to the gates. Honey Wine expected him to focus his enraged eyes on Bron, the one who’d struck the fatal blow. Instead he looked at her. He didn’t speak, just stared until she felt like she was trapped inside those dark blue orbs, a prisoner for a crime she didn’t commit.

She drew a deep breath and returned his glare before continuing down the corridor.
Damn him! Damn his arrogant carcass to hell
!

Honey Wine heard Bron shout, “Clear these beasts back into their cages and get rid of that stinking body! We’ll need some healers to look the beasts over.

Honey Wine!”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” she bellowed. “I need fresh supplies!”

In the herbarium, Honey Wine gathered what she needed, but her thoughts whirled with the fight she’d just witnessed and the knowledge she’d acquired about the new prisoner. A Knight of the Ruby Order. They were healers and great warriors who trained not to fight for land or power, but to lend aid. They lived like monks in a fortress miles from her kingdom of Sophianna. Their Order, though fairly small, was revered by the peasant folk who benefited most from their hospitable ways. Not to say that they were holy men. They fought and killed when driven to it, but they were known to use violence only as a last resort. Several monarchs had attempted to hire them for their skills, but the Knights of the Ruby Order were not mercenaries. Money didn’t tempt them, therefore they could not be controlled. Many monarchs grew to despise them, and few were willing to join an Order which was constantly under royal scrutiny.

Honey Wine walked to the holding cells and assisted another healer in seeing to the beasts’ cuts, sprains, and breaks.

When she reached
his
cell and stepped inside, she was surprised that he refused to look at her. He sat on the bench, staring at the wall in front of him.

She took his chin in her hand to clean the blood from his face. His lower lip was swollen from the previous day’s beating and the fight in the pit. Even so, she noticed for the first time the endearing shape of his mouth. His upper lip was slim, almost delicate, the lower lip a full upside-down arch, the tips of his front teeth visible against it.

She looked up sharply and caught him watching her stare at his mouth.

“If you’re a Knight of the Ruby Order, then I know you understand everything we’re saying. Are you mute?”

She waited for his answer while examining a bruise above his right eye. He said nothing and made no motion to respond.

“Not that I care, but I’ll give you this advice,” Honey Wine continued. “Do what they want you to. You’re never getting out of here. As you might have guessed, the Entertainment above is fights. You beasts are pitted against each other as well as prisoners from other kingdoms. My sister isn’t the only one who enjoys these spectacles. Ah. You look surprised. Yes, the Mistress of Sophianna is my sister. So if she does this to me, imagine how little she thinks of you, her dog, her cock.”

Honey Wine’s words dripped venom, whether directed at him or her sister, even she wasn’t sure. Though she’d finished treating his injuries, her fingertips smoothed the fine lines of concentration from his forehead.

“You’re not getting out,” she repeated.

He lifted his hand and touched her brow as she touched his. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder, hoping Timus or any of the other guards didn’t notice. Timus was talking to the guard posted in the cell beside them.

“Don’t ever do that,” Honey Wine whispered. “Do you want to get us both killed or worse?”

He smiled, that familiar, arrogant smile. She packed her supplies quickly and left.

“Why do you do it?” Honey Wine hissed.

It was close to midnight. Only a few low-burning torches lit the vast room of holding cells. One guard stood watch at the far corner and another at the door.

They paid no attention to the healer as she crouched close to the bars of the Knight’s cell.

She’d watched him for weeks, her hatred of him tainted by increasing interest and the carnal dreams that disturbed her sleep almost every night.

“Why do you fight for those pathetic ones when they’re brought to the pit?

You know they always end up dead no matter what you do. Don’t you understand you’re not a Knight anymore? In here, the Ruby Order is dead.

Everything of the outside world is dead.”

He sat on the ground in front of her, gazing through the bars.

“You’re going up there tomorrow,” she said. “And if you try your stupid heroics, if you refuse to kill your match, you will die.”

He continued staring at her, and she lost her temper. Her hand shot through the bars and grasped his wrist, her short nails digging his flesh. “I know you understand everything that’s said and everything that goes on here. Why won’t you talk? Say something, anything! What’s your name? I’m Honey Wine.” She spoke slowly, as if to a fool. “H-O-N-E-Y-W-I-N-E. Who are you?” She released his wrist and poked a finger into his hard chest.

Even in the darkness, she noticed him trying to control his smile. He took her hand and held it firmly, his thumb caressing her palm.

“Let me go!” she snapped, forcing her voice to remain quiet so the guards wouldn’t hear.

He continued with the slow massage, moving to her inner wrist. Did he feel her pulse racing?

“Let me go, or I’ll call the guard right now.”

Instead of releasing her, he tugged her closer, his hand moving from wrist to forearm to biceps. Their faces were so close their noses touched.