The Mauls had been left alone since Suvau had returned from the Arena. Not even Jole had come to give them rations. Suvau’s stomach was growling like a werewolf and his was not the only one. Even the other prisoners who were used to Urik’s spiteful displays of power that involved nearly starving them to death, could not silence the beast in their bellies.

  Suvau was very concerned. He was hoping for the evening ration to let him know what time it was or for any of his fellow prisoners to return from the fields where they had been permitted to work. But no one had been allowed out and so far, no food had arrived.

  It was possible that they were being punished for his actions in the Arena.

  Suvau went over it all again in his mind, trying to work out if he couldn’t have made a different choice or at least communicated better with Judd but the options he had at his disposal were few and far between. He reasoned that, if for some reason Judd didn’t understand what he’d said, he might be able to break out of the wall himself…if he didn’t pass out from hunger.

  He tested the strength of the manacles on the wall, knowing he’d have to sacrifice some of his precious energy in breaking free and probably a great deal more in freeing the others. He wondered if he ought to at least pull his out of the wall to prove to himself that he could do so. However, just as he had made up his mind, they heard keys in the dungeon door and looked up to see Jole’s hefty form fill the rectangle of dull light. He stomped down the steps, no bucket of slops or ladle in his hands.

  Clearly his visit was not about food.

  Suvau was surprised when Jole gestured for him to bring his hands in front then used cuffs to lock his hands together, releasing him from the wall manacles. Suvau was marched up the steps to where Urik was waiting. Without a word he turned and led Suvau through the fort into a room where there were vats of steaming water.

  “Bathe.” Urik ordered. Suvau looked at him, astonished and a little suspicious. Urik looked pointedly at Jole. “Go on.” Jole’s hesitation was small but both Urik and Suvau noticed it. “Oh stop pouting! Donimede demanded a scapegoat for the Arena debacle. He was hoping LaMogre would make a complete arse of himself at the feast…but all Donimede got was humiliated and Jocasa is certainly displeased with him. A smarter man knew that ruse was never going to work. LaMogre doesn’t have a vindictive bone in his body. He would never kill a man in cold blood. He doesn’t have the fortitude for it. Now bathe the Maul!”

  Jole tore Suvau’s loin cloth off, at which point Suvau decided he would prefer to be in the water than out. It was hot and the salt in it stung the cuts on his body, his knuckles aching and his back still healing from Urik’s whipping. He ducked beneath the surface and rinsed his hair until his scalp was so clean it tingled. His dark hair dripped with water, the braids from his temples becoming fully saturated. When Urik ordered him out, he was given a towel and dried himself as best he could. He didn’t pay his imprisoners any heed for if they chose to ogle him, then they had their own issues that no modesty would be able to remedy.

  “Put this on.” Urik held out a clean loin cloth, tied at the hip with an ornate buckle. The fabric only went halfway down Suvau’s thighs and when he walked, the edges did not always meet.

  Urik marched Suvau back the way they had come but veered off before they went near the Arena. They seemed to be taking passages and stairs meant for servants so that they could make discrete entrances and exits from their master’s chambers. There was no one about on them and as they climbed higher and higher, Suvau was painfully aware that they were getting further and further from the dungeon, the Arena and his imminent escape plan.

  They left the narrowest set of steps, emerging into a corridor where there was a set of doors with statues of maidens with their hands outstretched on either side of them. In their hands were lit candles and draped around their stone heads were wreaths of dried flowers.

  Urik knocked on one of the doors and immediately opened it as though knocking was a mere formality. Suvau nearly reeled at the wall of warmth that he walked into as Jole propelled him into the room. The fort was cold, the stone never really giving up its chill yet in this elegant and opulent chamber, the fire was so well tended and large, the heat in the air was like a giant blanket that wrapped around him.

  Urik pointed to a spot on a rug.

  “Stand there.” Suvau did so, looking around the room with his eyes, keeping perfectly still otherwise. He noticed the plush bed covered in furs and draped with silk sheets from the four posts in the corners. There were highbacked chairs in front of the hearth and a table with a bowl filled with fruit. Sitting by the fire in a dark green gown, was a woman with red hair. Urik turned and cleared his throat. “My lady…”

  “Leave it on the table and get out.”

  Urik was not at all upset by the coldness of her words. He laid the key on the table and went to leave. “You know what I am capable of,” he threatened softly, “know that if you fail, I will kill every single Maul but you…and make you watch.”

  He stalked away, taking Jole with him and the doors closed, sealing Suvau in the chamber with the woman. She did not say anything, her wave of curling red locks rippling down her back when she picked up a brush and ran it through the strands.

  “I must say,” she spoke at length, her hazel eyes appraising him, “you are even better looking up close than you were in the Arena.” Suvau remained silent. Unless asked a direct question, he guessed it was best not to speak. “I was supposed to be watching Judd LaMogre kill his minotaur…but I found watching you to be a much more enjoyable spectacle.” Still he said nothing. The woman the brush down. “Do you know who I am?”

  Suvau could only imagine one woman who would have the power, the gall and the knowledge to be able to summon a slave to her chambers.

  “Lady Jocasa Donimede.”

  Her lips pursed together in pleasure. “I see,” she said as she stood up, “Urik told me you were not some witless slave.” She went to the table, her hips swaying with practiced rhythm. “If that is true, you must be aware of the…precariousness of your situation.” She slid the key off the table and held it up. “A single offense…and my husband would hang you from the south side of the wall and let the monsters of Maul feed on you while still alive.”

  Suvau wondered if she knew that she would probably be hanging there next to him.

  “So…I will unlock these cuffs…and we can relax a little.” She walked towards him, every pore of her body oozing a lustful desperation as though she was making her own honey, sickly sweet and thick. “Would you like that?” Suvau didn’t answer as she traced the key up his arm, across his chest then down the middle, heading for his cuffed hands. “Of course you would.”

  She stood in front of him and slid the key into the lock and gave it a quick turn, the cuffs falling off, striking the rug with a dull thud. “There now, that was not so hard…” Her eyes gleamed with a wicked pleasure. “What is your name?”

  “Suvau.”

  “Suvau,” she said and to his shame, a thrill ran up his spine, “how it rolls off my tongue…Suvau…” She walked backwards to her chair and sat, her eyes grazing him so deeply he wondered if she would draw blood. “A slave as smart as you must have realised why you are here.” Suvau had to keep from asking if she meant Fort Mavour or in her bedchamber. “I have what you would call…an arrangement with Urik. I provide additional funds to his income and in return he provides me with those who catch my eye in the Arena. And Suvau,” she leaned forward, her gown gaping scandalously, “you have captured my eye like no other…as I see I have captured yours.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Suvau’s skin become hot and he cursed his eyes that travelled her curves before realising what he was doing and looking away. Jocasa’s affected laugh made him cringe.

  “Other than the natural, primitive even, need for a man to be so satisfied…there are other rewards.” She stood and walked to the bowl of fruit, taking an apple from its apex and tossing it to Suvau who caught it, its polished red and yellow exterior giving off a wonderful aroma that had his stomach churning like it was a pit of vipers. “Of course…these rewards are proportionate to the, well let’s use the word ‘effort’, that you put in to…” She let her eyes do the talking, fluttering to the bed then back to Suvau who set the apple back with the rest of the fruit. He swallowed, an unconcealable display of tension which Lady Jocasa immediately interpreted as a symptom of his unspoken libido. “So, Suvau,” she walked back to him, her fingers trailing down his chest to the ornate buckle on his loin cloth, “shall we repair to the bed…and you can show me how much effort you can put in?”

  He could feel the loin cloth ties coming loose from the buckle, his hand slapping down on them, holding them tight. “My lady,” he squeezed out through his thick tongue, “there has been a grave error. I am a married man.”

  “I am a married woman.” Jocasa was not dissuaded. “Such legalities are not romantic in the boudoir where love from marriages has long since faded.”

  Suvau shook his head. “The love I have for my wife has not faded. It is as vibrant as the day I married her.”

  “Which only makes you that much more desirable,” Jocasa said, moving in even closer, “the Maul I was with before was only too hasty in taking me up on my offer. But a man like you would know how to satisfy his wife…so satisfy this wife.”

  Suvau blinked and looked at her. “I told her I would return to her.”

  “And perhaps you even meant it,” Jocasa lamented, “but the truth is, you will never leave this place. For a Maul, Fort Mavour is another word for death. Though you have only been here a few days, you know Urik’s methods…and how he has a remarkable penchant for breaking soul, spirit and body. But I,” she walked around him, her fingers trailing lightly across his skin, “can be your salvation.”

  “Salvation?” Suvau trembled with pleasure and cursed himself the moment after.

  “The rewards I spoke of earlier…not just food and warmth…and a warm bed and body,” she pressed up against his back then went up on tip toe and whispered in his ear, “if you please me…I can keep you out of the Arena.”

  Suvau blinked. “You can?”

  “If a Maul pleases me, I pay Urik small bonuses to keep them out of the Arena.” Jocasa moved around in front of Suvau. “I would not want to watch my preferred lover to perish as a monster lure.”

  Suvau closed his eyes, his heart aching like someone had injected it with monster toxin. He didn’t even notice Jocasa leaning in towards him, her lips trailing up his neck then down his chest…until he yanked himself out of her space.

  “No!” He cried, bumping the table, causing the bowl of fruit to upend, its contents scattering across the rug.

  Jocasa’s eyes were wide and her expression was one of utter disbelief. “No? You dare refuse me?”

  “My lady, you are not my wife and that is not our bed.” Suvau insisted. “Even if I am gone a hundred years, I will remain faithful to my wife.” He knelt, picked up an apple and held it out to her. “I am not hungry for anyone else.”

  Jocasa’s nostrils flared. She smacked the apple out of his hand. “You have made a grave mistake.” She snarled, pulling on a bell rope. “Urik will make sure you suffer in the Arena until you are begging to bed me.” Urik was quick to arrive. “Take this Maul away.”

  “Would you care for the other?”

  “I am not in the mood!”

  Urik bowed, picked up the cuffs and locked them around Suvau’s wrists, Jole glowering at him from the doorway. He was marched down the stairs and corridors, into the depths of the fort until Suvau reached the dungeon. The other prisoners looked up at his arrival.

  “You should have kept that apple.” Urik sneered. “You missed out on your rations.”

  Suvau slumped on the crate and Jole shackled him back into place.

  “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.” Urik taunted and let Jole slam the door.

  The prisoners waited for Urik’s footsteps to quieten before Gustin spoke up.

  “We saved some for you. Well…some of us did.”

  “Shut up.” Palo snapped.

  Suvau shook his head, his body thrumming with a burn in his veins that he only ever wanted to experience with Yolana. “I don’t need it. I just need to get out of here. We all do.”

  “You’re really serious about escaping?” Gustin huffed. “I thought that was just ‘new slave in the pit’ talk.”

  “I am very serious.” Suvau stood up and turned to the wall. He put one foot up on it, braced and pulled hard. The mortar around the manacles came away almost too easily. He made sure to scoop them up before they hit the ground.

  “Congratulations,” Palo snorted, “you’re free!”

  “Not yet.” Suvau held up the key he’d swiped when he’d picked up the apple. Jocasa had left it in the lock of the cuffs and he’d been able to grab it without her noticing.

  “Like that key will fit all these.”

  “The funny thing about manacles and keys and the simplistic design of them,” Suvau murmured, sliding it into the lock, “is that most of the time you can just change the depth of penetration and angle and…” The cuffs opened and he pulled his hands free.

  “Well, I’ll be…” Gustin let Suvau unlock his manacles. “How’d you learn that?”

  “I’m a weaponsmith. I cut my teeth on manacles and keys.” Suvau continued to work, unlocking everyone’s cuffs. “I could have made do with a strong piece of wire but a key is much easier.” Within five minutes, he had unlocked everyone’s bonds.

  “I don’t suppose that key will work on that door?”

  Before Suvau could answer Palo interrupted. “It doesn’t matter if he has keys to the entire fort! The moment a guard, a solider…a servant or any Terra sees us, the alarm will be raised and we’ll be lined up and executed.”

  “We’re not escaping through Fort Mavour. We need to get to the pit.”

  “And out through Maul? Are you insane!”

  “You know,” Suvau loomed over Palo, “for a lad who is sure he’s going to die, you avoid death a lot.”

  “You bet I do!” Palo retorted. “When it’s insane and stupid and…”

  “And Ermaus died…because Urik was infuriated by Donimede.” Suvau snapped back and Palo flinched away. “Not for any reason except his own survival, securing his lifestyle. But Ermaus knew I had a plan to get you all out of here…and I think…”

  “You think he gave himself up,” Oska said softly, “because he believed it was possible?”

  Suvau sighed. “I…I don’t know…but if he had to die…then he’s the last to die.” He looked around the dungeon where dark skinned faces, stained with hopelessness and fear gazed back at him. He wanted to tell them about Lady Jocasa’s displeasure with him and Urik’s threat. He wanted to make them realise that, because of his refusal to bed her, it was likely that they would all suffer. But he was ashamed of his reaction to her, grieved that his body had responded to her presence as though he had no control. Suvau had always maintained a steep level of control in his body…but when it came to passion and intimacy, he came undone like a youth panting over their first crush. He had kept that passion entirely for Yolana yet it seemed, not even two weeks after being apart from her, that he was unable to suppress his desire.

  He picked up the iron plate that had secured his manacles to the wall. Gustin was right to be concerned. The manacle key, while a simple design, would not work on the door. Fortunately, there were many other ways to open a door.

  “Oska, bring me the other plate,” Suvau ordered, scraping at the wood the hinges of the door were bolted into the frame, “do as I do.”

  Oska came up beside him and mimicked his actions. “You really think this plan of yours is going to work?”

  Suvau couldn’t look at him, his own shame and overwhelming suspicions making it hard for him to be objective. “I believe so. No one would expect us to escape through the pit.”

  “It’s unique, I’ll give you that.” Oska seemed to be on the verge of asking something but clamped his lips shut instead and worked with an almost possessed focus. However, Suvau knew he wasn’t so much focussed…as desperately trying to forget or ignore.

  Suvau’s hinge gave way first then Oska’s. While the door remained wedged in the frame, it only took a hefty pull by the two of them to yank it out of the opening and carefully set it aside. Suvau peered out into the empty corridor.

  “Not a soul,” he looked back into the dungeon, “let’s go.” He was unsurprised at their reluctance.

  “If we’re discovered,” Gustin said softly, “the punishment would be worse than what we already endure.”

  If Gustin, the mostly likely of prisoners to be eager to leave was hesitant, Suvau knew the rest would be even more so.

  “What do you think will happen when Urik discovers the door is no longer on its hinges and your manacles are loose?” He demanded sharply.

  Gustin’s eyes dropped.

  “We’ll pin the blame on you.” Palo spoke up from the darkened corner. “After all, it has been all your doing.”

  Suvau wanted to pummel the young man, his hands curling into fists. Oska was silent as well. It was possible that he’d have to drag them one by one, kicking and screaming, into the pit. Suvau began to wonder if he would be able to save anyone but himself.

  Then he realised, that was all he could do.

  “I’ve opened the door,” he said softly, “and I will show you the way…but I will not force you.” He paused, gazing around their fear soaked expressions, the hope of living long since beaten out of them. “I am not your master and you are not my slaves. This time,” he stepped over the threshold and in the corridor beyond, “you have a choice.”