Page 31 of Her Manticore Master

"Still at his mercy."

"For now."

"Forever, more likely."

"We'll see."

There's something in his tone—quiet confidence that has absolutely nothing to do with arrogance and yet everything to do with unshakeable determination. It should annoy me, this blind faith in eventual freedom.

Instead, it kindles something dangerous in my chest. Something that feels suspiciously like hope.

"You're planning something," I observe.

"I'm planning to survive."

"That's not the same thing."

"Isn't it?"

Our eyes meet across the narrow cell, and I see my own restless desperation reflected in steel-blue depths. Two caged creatures recognizing kindred spirits in each other.

"You're going to get us both killed with whatever scheme you're hatching," I warn.

"Better than dying slowly in here."

"Is it?"

"Ask me again when we're free."

The casual assumption that freedom is possible rather than probable sends another traitorous flutter through my chest. When was the last time someone spoke of my future as if it belonged to me?

"You're insane," I tell him.

"Probably."

"Definitely."

But I'm smiling as I say it, and he's smiling back, and something fundamental has shifted between us in this stone cage we're learning to call home.

13

RONAN

The evening routine has become grimly familiar—guards escort us back to our shared cell after another day of blood and performance. Tonight, however, their conversation carries clearly through the stone corridors.

"Look at that ass," Marcus leers as he shoves Corrina ahead of him. "Waste of good flesh, keeping her locked up with the beast."

"Valdris always did have strange tastes," Korven agrees. "All that silk and perfume, and for what? So she can tend to gladiator wounds?"

They pause outside our cell door, keys jangling as they prepare the locks. Corrina stands rigid between them, jaw clenched but silent.

"I'd show her what a real man feels like," Marcus continues, his voice dropping to what he probably thinks is seductive. "None of this gentle harem treatment."

"Course, she's probably grateful for the attention. Harem trash always are, once you strip away the fancy clothes."

The crude laughter that follows sets my teeth on edge, but I remain motionless against the far wall. Not my business. Not my concern.

"Bet she purrs real sweet when you know what you're doing," Korven adds with a disgusting chuckle. "That mouth of hers was made for more than sharp words."