Bonded

Chapter 10

The renovation project of the arena was nearly complete. The princess peaked through the curtains as the masons were laying stone on the last few steps. She did not know if it was a bane or a boon to have given Tarquin the idea of performing the age old Barbarian ritual of blood sports.

While her soldiers had not been given their death sentences that maybe prolonging their miserable lives would not make them grateful. But no matter, what was done was done.

Her head throbbed with an intensity she was sure would keep her at night but she had more pressing matters to think about. Her eavesdropping had led her to the incredible discovery that all was not what it seemed in Lord Tarquin's army. He did not have absolute control because he had killed his father. What kind of heartless soul was he who had no respect for family bonds. He could kill for his mother but could not give the same courtesy to his father. Was he so power hungry that he could not wait for the crown to come to him?

The moral dilemma of whether to reveal the conversation was weighing upon her. She wanted to ask him the impertinent questions swirling in her head but shed oubted he would take kindly of her questioning. He would once again threaten to slaughter her head and that would be the end of that.

Jza's headache grew exponentially as Lord Tarquin sauntered into their shared quarters playing with a red apple with his fingers. He was dressed in blackhead to toe but his face was bright like a furnace. It was so typical he was enjoying her pain.

Their eyes met and the crushing secret in her heart made her feel deathly afraid. The library situation was but a faded memory by now and only the new revelations swirled in her head.

"I heard a certain librarian was crushed beneath a pile of books. It would have been the most ironic death this palace has ever seen if those books had succeeded."

"Hardly," Jza shifted her stance, "Just a shelf that came down. Must have been damaged in the attack and gone unnoticed during the renovation."

"And you suffered any injuries?" Tarquin asked.

"Nothing of import. I am as bruised as I was before."

He sat on the bed and took a bite of the apple as he surveyed the damage. It was true, bruises upon bruises were difficult to decipher.

"Are you sure?" His voice was much quieter. His face lost the smarmy expressions. He handed her the apple and she absent-mindedly took a bite. It was turning into a habit to have him feed her his leftovers. The threat of poison was still constant and ever present. The Harem had not warmed up to her at all.

"I see the arena is being set up for the battles," the girl shied away from the conversation about her accident lest she blurted everything out. Also knowing him he would make fun of her weak reflexes for weeks ahead anyway.

"You should be happy you saved your soldiers. They were never meant to live longer than the day of the execution."

"They will be fighting in the true barbarian fashion, I suppose," The girl murmured wistfully.

"It will be an honour for them to indulge in such noble activity," Tarquin mentioned proudly.

If Jza hadn't figured out his heritage she would have been baffled by his insistence to glorify Barbarian traditions. The Somerluins were a proud race and they certainly would never have allowed another culture to prevail over them. The man dominating her thoughts flipped though her notes and materials that were lying allover the bed.

"Are you well versed with the subject of Barbarian Balls?" The man asked sharply.

"Yes, I am quite sure I have the length and breadth of this subject tightly by the neck, why?"