Slave Unbound Ch. 45

Chapter 45

Healing Wounds

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

As she lay in a cot, down in the healer's clinic of the arena, Leita felt a strange sense of peace. All around her was the sounds of the injured, men and women moaning or crying out in pain while members of the Order of Hermadyne diligently tended to their injuries, both minor and severe. Yet, she felt at ease. Her own body hurt, from her own many small cuts, bruises, and abrasion, but also from having strained past all limits for so long. However, the aches and cuts felt like they were far away from her, disembodied. More like vague impressions of pain, rather than actual discomfort.

She'd come through it all alive and intact. Not just physically, but emotionally. In fact, she felt as though she was now more alive and aware than she'd ever been. A door had been opened in her during the chaos of it all, unlocked by an ambiguous revelation that she was still sorting through. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was more than just someone's slave. More than just a piece of property to be owned and used at an owner's discretion.

Though she'd never known a single day of her life when she had not been enslaved, born into the role of possession, she now had an idea of what freedom tasted like. She could imagine herself, for the first time, without a collar around her throat and in control of her own life. As strange as it seemed, she realized that it was a concept that all those people who gathered to watch them fight for their lives took for granted. Rich or poor, they all had something she'd never known: liberty.

On the sandy floor of the arena, she'd felt the power to make her own choices. She'd found courage and strength in herself that she never would have believed she could possess. The frightened little slave girl who'd been thrown into a tiny dark cell months ago was absolutely gone now. In her place was a strong warrior who had conquered more than just fear.

Glancing over, she watched absently as a healer finished bandaging up a particularly bad wound in Kalder's side. It had been the hit that had finally put him down, inflicted by Dalgo's massive greatsword. Had he been any other man, a man whose skin wasn't hard as rock and flesh beneath tough as rawhide, the wound might have been fatal. For Kalder, it was merely painful to both body and pride.

"Thank you." She said to him as the healer rose up and headed to her next patient.

He looked over at her, brow cocked questioningly. "For going down so you can steal all the glory and then throw it away at the last instant?" There was the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of lips, but he did a passable imitation of looking bitter.

"For never being easy on me." She replied back sincerely.

This made his expression shift to genuine bewilderment, though there was a rather bemused aspect to it. "You're thanking me for being mean to you? You really do feed on pain, don't you?"

Leita smiled, her gaze moving to the other injured gladiators around them. A few had sheets pulled all the way over them, their wounds too much for the healers to save them from. Others looked as though they would survive, but might be a long time in returning to the sands, if ever again truly able to. Some had been wise enough to surrender before they became injured beyond the point of a quick recover in the hands of their House healers. Others had been either too stupid or too stubborn to know when to quit.

The fighters from House Whitebanner seemed to have been among that second group, both of them having fought hard until they couldn't even stand anymore and had suffered significant wounds for their efforts. Lord Crahka had personally come down to check on his pair, his own healers seeing to them with more diligence and care than the arena's staff provided. She'd noticed that he had taken a moment to step over to where Trippart was resting, kneeling down beside his cot to give some thanks before he and his gladiators had taken their leave. Apparently, the dvartan had not simply checked on the female warrior, but triaged her, there in the middle of the event, ensuring that she survived the day.

"You never coddled me." Leita turned her eyes back to the large rock-like man. "Gods, you actively punished me just for daring to exist. However, I don't think I would have been half as determined to prove all your taunts wrong if you hadn't." She pointedly looked towards where Casartes was currently breathing laboriously, but still breathing all the same. "I don't think I would be alive right now if you had been anything other than harsh and unaccepting."

He followed her gaze to look at the House Victorious champion himself. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, I apparently should have been meaner. Maybe then you would have made sure that bastard didn't make it."

"He's not that different from us, Kalder." She gave her head a shake, looking back to him. "If the Mistress told you not to show mercy to an opponent, you wouldn't either. Casartes is just another slave following orders. All of us are. We fight and we butcher because it's what we're told to do by our owners. He didn't kill Myrinus simply out of malice, he followed an order given to him by the person who controls him."

"Oh, I can guarantee there was malice. Casartes has never needed much excuse to be cruel in the arena." Kalder stared at the man for a minute, his expression slowly softening. "Still, perhaps coming so close and having you to thank for not being dead now will give him something to think about. Or, at the very least, cull a bit of his arrogant pride." He finally looked back at her, studying her for a long moment. "Just when did you get all philosophical and 'perceptive'?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly with a shrug. "I think... maybe, I always saw more than I realized. I just didn't have the guts to trust in my intuitions. Fighting for your life has a way of forcing you to either trust your instincts or perish. Six months ago, I was afraid of my own shadow. Now there are people who are actually afraid of me."

As if to make her point, she pointedly looked towards the orling from House Bannon, whom she'd noted had been glancing towards them absently. The moment their eyes met, he quickly turned away with a flinch. "I proved to a lot of people today that I am more than even I believed I could be."

"Well, I would have been even more impressed if you could have found enough will to fight one last opponent." Kalder teased, laying back in his cot. "The Mistress is going to remove what skin you have left for surrendering right there in sight of winning the whole thing."

"Honestly, I had so little fight left, I think the old me could have beat the new me." Leita laughed, laying back into her own bed. "As long as Venge lost, I doubt she'll be as mad as you think."

"Well, I guess we're about to find out." He replied, leading her attention towards the entrance of the clinic.

Surprisingly, there stood Sabrina, a pair of bodyguards lingering in her wake. She scanned about for her two fighters, pausing to regard them when she finally located them in the room. Her expression was hard to read, as if she herself wasn't sure how she felt. Finally, she strode towards them imperiously. "You lost." She intoned flatly when she reached them.

"Only the event, Mistress." Leita replied back confidently, sitting back up. "However, I survived Lord Venge's little trap and punctured his champion."

"Only to then save the wretch's life." Sabrina groused back disapprovingly. "I had intended for you to kill him."

Leita nodded calmly. "I apologize, Mistress. However, you never specifically ordered that I show him no mercy."

Sabrina eyed her pointedly. "I shouldn't have needed to."

"The man he killed was Lord Solivier's gladiator, Mistress." Leita glanced over towards where Dalgo and Luthor were resting. "Yet, his own men didn't seem to consider his death to be paramount. They appeared more interested in just foiling any attempts at someone killing me."

Sabrina glanced over at them, considering the two fighters. "I did notice that. Rather unexpected. Still, funny how you could better the three-time winners of the event but couldn't even bring yourself to raise swords against some battered old relic of a gladiator to bring home the purse."

"I'd have thought you'd rather relish my beating the top houses' gladiators, only to then turn around and curtsey to some nobody as a way of rubbing sand in their wounds." Leita countered, cocking an eyebrow.

"Gods! You are impossible to argue with." Sabrina sighed, rolling her eyes, but her amusement couldn't be hidden anymore. "Probably because you know me too well." She added with a laugh. "And, if I know Cornelius, it will gall him more that he now owes his champion's life to your mercy than it would have if you'd killed him." She admitted, her gaze moving first to Casartes, then finally back to Leita.

"My thoughts exactly, Mistress." Leita replied. "He doesn't strike me as someone who likes feeling like he owes a debt to anyone, especially a slave."

Sabrina blew out a long and theatrical sigh. "Fine! Your show of mercy is forgiven." She shifted to take Kalder into her gaze as well. "So, did either of you take any injuries that can't be fixed?"

Leita looked over towards Kalder, intending to confer with him on his condition, but found him staring at their owner with a curious and somewhat suspicious look on his face. "You came to... check on us, Mistress?" He asked absently, but paused, a realization coming to his face as his eyes flicked to Leita. "Oh. You came to check on her."

Sabrina straightened herself up, locking a hard glare at him, and cleared her throat. "I came to rub it in that you failed to win the event." She stated in a flat voice. "However, I might as well make sure you're going to survive your wounds long enough to be punished for it."

Leita couldn't help but grin, quite sure that Sabrina's motives for coming to see them was quite the opposite. "Kalder's far too stubborn to die from anything short of getting beheaded, Mistress. And I should be fit to receive whatever 'discipline' you feel my failure needs in a couple days."

Sabrina eyed her sardonically. "Careful dear, get too cheeky and I'll have them get out the branding irons from the cellar. It's been a while since I felt the desire to burn my mark in a slave's rear like a cow."

"Moo?" Leita smiled defiantly at her.

Sabrina eyed her for a long moment, fighting to maintain a strict expression, but finally sighed and laughed. "You're going to be the ruin of me, you know. You're making me soft."

"I doubt that, Mistress." Leita gave her a respectful nod of reverence. "I'd still feel sorrow for anyone who thinks they can get the upper hand on you."

"Mistress, should you be allowing Leita to be so familiar with you, here in public?" Kalder asked in a low tone, glancing around. "I know you allow her latitude in private these days, but..."

Sabrina paused, seeming to consider his words. Before saying anything else, she gestured towards one of her bodyguards to fetch her a nearby stool and waited for it to be placed between their two cots. She lowered herself down onto it and breathed out a long stream of tension. "I don't really care, Kalder." She said softly. "I've intentionally generated more than enough scandal over the years with carefully crafted behavior meant to ruffle feathers. I don't feel like playing the heartless bitch at the moment. I came down here because... I am proud of both of you for your performance today."

Kalder was rendered speechless by the display of genuine vulnerability and compassion his owner was displaying. He simply goggled at her, looking as though he wanted to say something, but seemed unsure about it.

"Go ahead, Kalder." Sabrina breathed. "If I can show some humanity, so can you."

"I have always been proud to serve you, Mistress." He said after a moment. "Have always been grateful for you saving me from the horrors that... made me like this."

Sabrina took in a deep breath, surveying him with an inscrutable expression. Leita thought that, for just a moment, she could see something akin to guilt pass through her expression. Finally, she reached out and put her hand on the top of his bald head. "I am..." She faltered a moment, then cleared her throat and continued with a strong, but sincere, voice. "I know that you have endured considerable horrors, Kalder. However, they are also what brought you into my House. You are quite literally the 'rock' I built it on. For that, you have earned the right to have me worry, at least a little, about you."

He closed his eyes, something deeply emotive moving through him for a long moment. Finally, he spoke softly. "I live to serve, Mistress."

"And you have served well, Kalder." She replied back.

"Even today?" He asked, his voice still low and eyes still closed.

Sabrina laughed, giving his head a playful push and breaking the maudlin mood. "I honestly don't care about whether we won or lost the Grand Melee, Kalder. That the two of you fought well today is all I cared about. If I'm honest, having the ability to taunt Lord Asher that his House only won the event because of charity on Leita's part is worth more to me than some bloated purse." She gave a shrug. "Being named 'First House' also comes with a large target for that owner's back. Men like Solivier and Venge thrive on that, I'm quite happy to be one of the ones throwing darts into that target instead."

Kalder's eyes fixed on her, seeming to be really seeing her for the first time. "Then you really aren't angered that we lost? A regular purse is one thing... but today's prize was..."

"First of all, have I ever really shown much care that my House hasn't won the event in the past?" She asked him, shaking her head as if in answer to her own question. "That you always put on a good show is more important than anything. I'll make more gold from your performance today than even that doubled purse. The bounty of Leita and you has been the worse kept secret in the history of the arena. Even the lowest peasant in the audience was buzzing on about it. That the two of you left the floor on your feet easily eclipsed what House actually won."

Kalder gave a sour laugh. "I would point out that I was only on my feet because Leita was half carrying me." He glanced towards her. "I... I think she has proven the right to call herself your House Champion today."

Leita looked at him in surprise. She looked to Sabrina and found that her owner's expression seemed to be in agreement. "Would that not be a little premature?" She asked modestly. "I only managed to keep from getting overwhelmed because of all the opponents he drew off me. And against some very capable fighters."

Sabrina shook her head and sighed. "I never thought I would see a day when the two of you were each trying to promote and support the other. And after I put so much effort into setting you two at odds and stirring up rivalry." Her eyes glittered playfully.

Leita lowered her head. "There are aspects of that title that I don't think I'm ready for, Mistress. Kalder belongs as the head of your stable, not me."

Kalder started to respond, but Sabrina raised a hand to him, making him hold. "No, she is right. She will definitely be our star after today, but I think I agree that removing you as the head of my stable would be a mistake." She paused a moment before giving a crisp nod. "So, I think I will be making you the official 'stable-master' from now on, for lack of a better title."

Kalder peered at her, looking dumb-founded. "I... what?"

"We'll work out the full details and... whatever else while you are healing." She replied in a flippant manner, as though it were nothing. "You'll have some say in how the stable is maintained and who is put into what. SOME! I will still have the final word."

Kalder stared at her in amazement. "Thank you..." He suddenly flinched. "Um... thank you, Mistress."

Sabrina straightened herself up a little. "Well, don't thank me too much yet. You'll also be inheriting the rather annoying red tape bound up in some of it too. I might as well off-load a little of my own responsibilities if I'm going to do this."

Kalder gave a chuckle and lowered his head. "Of course, Mistress." There was a decided look of joy to him though, as if having finally received something that he'd sought for a long time. Leita felt sure it had nothing to do with whatever new role it was he was being given, but due to being given something much more ephemeral and powerful. Acknowledgement.

Sabrina rose up suddenly. "I think I have been spending too much time around Lord Crahka." She sighed. "I'm starting to get some of his ridiculous idealism on me."

"I don't think you could ever be that naïve, Mistress." Leita replied with a smile.

Sabrina smirked. "Flatterer. Well, if the two of you are strong enough, you may accompany back to the House box to watch the rest of the day's events. Think of it as... a reward for hard work."

Kalder grimaced. "I fear I may be in too poor of shape for it, Mistress." He replied, sounding honestly disappointed.

Sabrina considered him and nodded slowly. "Well, your new role will allow you ample chances to sit up there from now on, so don't be too let down." She offered him compassionately. Looking to Leita, she added. "What about you, dear?"

Leita hauled herself up and onto her feet. "I know that Crusher will be fighting later today and that is something I want to see. Even if I'd lost a leg, I would have crawled along behind you."

As they began ascending up to the private boxes through the arena's back hallways, several minutes later, Leita could hear snatches of cheers from the crowds elsewhere in the complex. A part of her felt a kind of thrill just at the sound of it. She'd become so accustomed to hearing the masses crying for blood and death that it long ago become like the drumming of her soul. To it, she fought and she bled. To its cadence, her own heart now seemed to beat in time.

The first time she'd placed feet on the sand, she'd felt horror. Now, she longed for the feel of the sand under her step, the sour smell of the fallen rising from it. It was where she'd come to life, where she'd found her power and her will. While there was still a part of her that despised this place, for all its faults and corruption, a much larger part of her had come to love it as well. The rush of battle had infected her and from it she'd embraced the faith of the god of this place, Caruenos.

While she still did not think of herself as a truly pious or spiritual person, she had discovered her true self in what stood for his temple. For that, she would forever regard him with a sort of reverence. Some small part of her felt somehow blessed by him and, true or not, it moved her to give prayer to him from time to time.

As they began up the last leg of stairs to the private House Firebridge box, she whispered a prayer to him now, thanking him for guiding her weapons in the event. For granting her the strength to push beyond even what she thought she could. She wasn't sure if any of it truly was from him or just her own tenacity, but it felt somehow right to her.

However, the mediation of it was broken as Sabrina came to a sudden stop as they emptied out into the hallway, swearing under her breath. Looking up the corridor, she saw Cornelius Venge standing just in front of the door to their box, waiting for them. His usual entourage was with him, a brace of bodyguards, a pair of beautiful pleasure slaves, a few off-hand servants waiting to take orders from him. He stood a little straighter at the sight of them, smoothing his surcoat and plastering a sneer-like smile of sarcastic smugness onto his face.

"Well, if isn't our esteemed...'second place' fighter." He gave a gesture of mocking tribute towards Leita as they approached him. Despite his seeming civility, there was a quiet rage seeming to simmer behind his eyes. "You really are quite the little cockroach. Honestly though, I can't even say that I'm all that surprised that you managed to survive... yet again." He gave an exasperated little fake laugh, turning his attention to Sabrina. "I guess you certainly knew what you were doing when you outbid us all for her. I don't think anyone, not even you, could have guessed what she would turn out to become. 'Marlowe's Little Blonde Wonder'."

"Your polite congratulations are appreciated." Sabrina replied in an equally fake diplomatic tone. "That is why you are currently darkening my doorstep, yes? To give your regards on my fighter's success? Or was it maybe to spit some new threat to her?"

Cornelius made a show of looking offended. "You may be surprised, Sabrina, but I can admit failure from time to time. Even show the class of expressing apology." He focused his gaze solidly on Leita. "As well as give gratitude for an act of mercy. I was quite surprised by your fighter saving my champion, knowing he was ordered to specifically kill her."

"Well, that is my fault, Cornelius." Sabrina sighed theatrically. "It seems I forgot to make it clear that I meant for her to separate his head from his neck. Oops."

Venge's eyes slid back to her, narrowing a little, but glittering as well, as if he'd yet to play a final card. "I earned that, Sabrina. I admit it. I've made no secret to you that I harbor resentments to your little prize. For a great many injustices." The last was half-hissed through nearly clenched teeth.

He took a casual step forward, then gave a partial bow of submission. "However, you will be pleased to know that I have no further plans to try and destroy your little prize anymore. If anything, I've finally come to realize just how grossly I have misjudged her and her abilities."

Sabrina fixed him with a deeply suspicious look. "I think I trust you the least when you are being your most civil, Cornelius. Let's not pretend that you're here to bury any sort of hatchet or proclaim bygones be bygones. Make your threats and swears so we can watch the rest of the day's entertainments."

Cornelius laughed lightly, again pretending to be offended by her accusations. "No threats, Lady Marlowe. Of that I give my promise. I am honest when I say that I am done with such things. No more ridiculous little ploys. I'm now of a far different mind regarding her." He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

One of the servants stepped forward with a large chest and set it down beside his employer. At a gesture from Cornelius, the servant opened it to reveal a large amount of gold coins. "This is the money I offered for her head today. With half again more added. You originally bought her for two hundred crescent. I offer you now almost four times that much to sell her to me."

Sabrina laughed out loud. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, I am." Cornelius replied smoothly, a serpentine smile on his face. "If I can't beat her, I will buy her. All the more fortuitous that you even happened to bring her up with you. We can make the sale right here."

"Why would I possibly sell her to you?" Sabrina asked incredulously, shaking her head. "You've basically ensured that she will be worth more than that to me in endorsements and sponsorships after this little debacle." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "And is it really worth so much to you just to destroy her?"

Cornelius raised a finger. "Oh, I am quite serious that I no longer plan to simply destroy her. While I may occasionally take out my little punishments for past sleights over time, I've realized that she deserves to be in a House much better than yours. This is a very legitimate offer, Lady Marlowe. I intend to keep her as a gladiator. My new champion, in fact. She beat Casartes, so I wish to replace him with her."

Sabrina laughed out loud, in spite of herself. The look on her face suggested that she honestly believed the man had lost the last of his sanity to think she would even entertain such an offer. "You want her to fight for House Victorious? More, you think that I would so easily just hand her to you?"

Cornelius' smile stretched almost from one of his ears to the other. "I do, actually. Because you are a smart woman, Sabrina. You know there is a difference between the little show of vindictive antics over having my pride hurt and the kind of pressures I am willing to exert when someone gets in my way of real business. All my little games against your gladiator were the diversions of boredom. Now, she has my REAL attention."

A touch of color fell from Sabrina's face, her expression slowly and subtly turning grave. It was clear that she believed what he was saying. That she recognized that there was, indeed, a difference. Venge had been playing games over petty vengeance for sleights. Now, he was very serious and this might be her only chance to avoid having him crush her House under his bootheel.

"If you think I would fight for you, even if she sold me, you are a complete fool." Leita said suddenly, breaking the silence. She stared hard at Venge, her voice firm as iron. "Lady Marlowe has my respect and my loyalty. And neither of those are something you could ever buy, Cornelius. I will never respect or kneel to a repulsive snake like you."

All signs of good-natured manner vanished instantly from him. His eyes flashed as he snarled back at her. "How dare you address me so familiarly, slave! You do not speak unless told! And, even then, you will refer to me as 'Master' or 'Lord' Venge."

"You don't own me, Cornelius, and you never will, no matter what you pay or threaten to get me." Leita replied calmly. "You say you aren't bringing threats, but that is all I hear with this offer. So, this is mine to you. On my word, you take me into your House and you'll be a corpse before the next dawn."

Venge stared agog at her, shaking with utter rage. Finally, his head snapped towards Sabrina. "Are you seriously going to do nothing to your slave for speaking to me like this?!" He hissed angrily.

Sabrina considered it a moment, then turned towards Leita and gave her a little clap. "Well said." Then she turned back to Cornelius and smiled serenely. "I see no reason to correct her, Cornelius. She's right, she isn't your slave and she, Gods as my witness, will NEVER be." She gestured towards his trunk of money. "You can put away your gold and you can stuff all your veiled suggestions of what you could bring to my door, 'Lord' Venge. You could offer every coin you have, down to your last half-ferring, take everything I have, and I would still never sell her to you. It'd sooner set her free than sell her to ANY buyer. There is no price high enough to make me let her go."

Cornelius started to speak, his whole body animated and furious, but some thought suddenly caught him and returned calm to him. She took a long and deep breath, smoothing himself before once more affixing a smarmy smile to his lips. "That is... truly inspiring. Such a fierce bond you've manufactured. I actually have to applaud you for it, Sabrina." He gave a little clap himself, this one over-fast and sarcastic.

"I always knew you were a very manipulative woman, my dear, but now I see I severely underestimated just how cunning you really are." His smile seemed to drive all the way into the bones of his skull. "I honestly would never have believed you could trick this stupid little girl into trusting you so deeply." She clasped his hands behind his back and stood a little straighter. "Considering just WHERE those original two hundred crescents you used to buy her came from."

Leita saw Sabrina suddenly stiffen; her features grow tight. "You are being a fool, Venge." She breathed out towards him, her eyes fixed hard on him. "This has spiraled into an unfortunate place of poorly flung words. Let us retire to my box and just share a bottle of wine. See if we can't mend a few fences between us." She snapped her own fingers towards her guards. "Take Leita back--"

"I think she should stay a moment!" Cornelius interjected, stepping forward and thrusting a palm out towards the guards to have them hold their places. "I mean, all that trust and loyalty. Obviously, she's been fed on some grandiose charade of your best work to lead her to believe you are some merciful and gracious soul, protecting her from all malefactors. Personally, I think she should hear the truth, Sabrina."

"Cornelius! If you--" Sabrina began, taking a step forward.

However, Cornelius fixed Leita fully in his sights and spoke over her. "She bought you with the Baroness Wilholme's money. Your old owner paid her handsomely to have her buy you and torture you slowly until you killed yourself. To put you into brutal and dangerous fights meant to leave you torn apart and broken." He took another step forward, waving towards Sabrina. "It was only when she realized she could make more money from you as a successful gladiator that she betrayed even the Baroness. She and Wilholme have been friends for years." He cocked an eyebrow. "What does that do your sense of 'respect' and 'loyalty' for your dear owner?"

Leita could see Sabrina's whole body tighten, her expression wooden. She made no show of intending to argue what he was saying, no effort to deny it. Though she also made no admission of it as truth, Leita didn't need her to. She wagered that, had this been a few months earlier, Sabrina would have immediately laughed it away, spun his words against him. However, she'd changed since the day Leita had met her.

Turning to face Venge, Leita looked closely at the malignant expression of pettiness that clung to him like a thin layer of slime. After a moment, she smiled. "That's it? That's your final move?" Shaking her head, she gave a little laugh. "I already know all that. I have known for a long time. In fact, I probably know more than you do about... a great many things, Cornelius." She noted Sabrina wheeling around and staring at her in surprise. "She still has my loyalty. My stance remains unmoved, Venge."

For all the woman's faults and vices, Leita had no more delusion of Sabrina as a 'good person' than she did Crusher as anything other than a psychopath. However, whether she'd meant to or not, Sabrina had exposed Leita to what it felt like to get respect. Respect from the other fighters in the stable and respect from Sabrina herself. While she might still hold the end of a leash attached to Leita, their relationship had gone far beyond owner and slave. Somewhere along the way, they'd developed a real connection that she deeply believed was genuine.

Leita felt certain that, down deep inside, Sabrina needed to feel cared about and hated herself for it. To Sabrina, needing to be loved was a weakness she couldn't afford. She'd killed Cookie in a horrible way just to prove she wasn't weakened by the hollow affections the concubine had given her. That same fear that no one could really care for her was why she would always accept putting Leita into dangerous fights, always trying to prove that she could sacrifice her heart.

However, some part of her, long buried away, had been unearthed by Leita's acceptance of her, just as she was. Leita could read her owner as well as she could read an opponent's combat style. Sabrina wanted to be impenetrable, but she wasn't. She wanted to be heartless, but she had compassion. She often made vicious and callow threats, but Leita had noticed that it was rare she carried through with them.

She'd had to learn to be harder than all the men around her, harder than the Grand Arena itself. However, there was a frightened girl in her, just like Leita had once been. A girl who just wanted someone to see her as more than the mask she wore. And Leita did. Sabrina wasn't a saint, but neither was Leita.

"So, like Mistress Marlowe said, Cornelius, take your box of gold, your shallow threats, and just go." Leita stepped forward walking away from all the guards around her without a single one of them moving to stop her. "I fight, willingly, for House Firebridge, Venge, and if you and your House gets in my way again, I will burn both of you down."

For the first time, Cornelius seemed to realize that Leita wore no chains, no fetters. Literally and figuratively. The guards had no intention of even trying to restrain her. If she decided to cross the gap between them and attack him, they would do nothing to prevent it. And something down inside him knew that his own guards would not be able to stop her.

Turning briskly, he gestured to his servant to close and retrieve the coffer of coins. Making as much an attempt at dignity as he could, he turned his entourage around, his back to them, and disappeared up the hallway to his own box. Without question, this would be the start of a fresh and far worse war with House Victorious, but she would be waiting.

Sabrina came up behind her and slipped her arms around Leita's shoulders. "You've really known?"

"I have." Leita replied, leaning into her owner, showing that her words about still respecting her were true. "I think, a part of me knew from the first day." In truth, it had not been until she'd met Felicitous Meadowlily that she'd honestly learned about the long story of how she'd come into House Firebridge. The atylmy, however, had related not only the initial nature of the deal Sabrina and the Baroness had struck, but also the conflicts that Sabrina had developed with it later. In fact, it had been Felicitous who had truly helped Leita see through much of the mask Sabrina always wore.

Despite her life in a cage, Sabrina had never shown the little fairy cruelty. Had often allowed herself to be vulnerable and speak of things and feelings she would have never revealed, had she known that an atylmy was capable to relaying such things. Through Felicitous' eyes, Leita had gotten a better picture of the lonely woman that her owner was.

"It doesn't matter how it was that I came to be your slave, Sabrina." Leita leaned her head against Sabrina's cheek. "I care only that things changed and you became my friend."

"I still say you're going to be the ruin of me." Sabrina replied with an amused sigh. "And now, I see that it will be Cornelius swinging the hammer."

"I prefer to think I was your salvation." Leita replied back, grinning a little. "And you were mine. We belonged together, I think. And your House is only getting stronger for it. Whatever Venge brings, we'll turn it back on him."

Sabrina heaved a long and deep breath, letting it our unsteadily. "I think, my dear, for once, it is you who is underestimating the enemy. There is a part of me that thinks we've both just made a very terrible mistake."