Sovereign by Celia Aaron Page B

into my wound one more time and dropped his arm. “I think the bleeding’s stopped. Damn. I can tell it hurts.”
    “I’ll live. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. We’ll get through it.” His warm brown eyes still held the same optimism as they had before the Christmas trial. I didn’t understand it, but I was comforted by it all the same.
    “Go.” Mr. Tablet motioned for us to walk through the door.
    I took Gavin’s hand and stepped into the arena.
     
     
     
     

 
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    S INCLAIR
     
     
     
    “ R IGHT THIS WAY.” C AL led us up the battlement and around to the side opposite where the spectators lounged.
    I scanned the crowd, the ground below, and the central platform for Teddy, but he wasn’t there. Relief couldn’t take hold in my chest, though. Cal was far too gleeful. Whatever he’d cooked up must have been beyond heinous for him to prance along the stone steps as he did.
    There was no point asking questions. He would reveal the game when he felt like it, and in a way that had the most impact. As Sovereigns went, I had no doubt he made an excellent one, despite my constant desire to snap his neck.
    “Here we are.” He stopped and turned, letting us go ahead of him.
    I stepped around him and proceeded forward. I halted in surprise, but then shored up my mask. “Mr. Rousseau. Lovely to see you again.”
    Stella’s father sat on a wooden bench, his hands and feet shackled. A chain ran from the binds to a metal ring affixed to the stone beneath him. Two others—a middle-aged woman and a dark-haired girl of no more than twelve—sat beside him. The girl sniffled quietly and the woman stared, a blank look on her face.
    “Where is Stella?” Mr. Rousseau’s voice was weak, his skin sallow, and his eyes red and watery. He looked much the worse for wear since the night he had sold me his only child.
    “She’ll be out shortly. Don’t you worry.” Cal clapped him on the back, and the old man almost fell forward. I imagined kicking him when he was down, and it warmed me only a little. I was far more concerned with what Cal intended to do with Stella.
    Bob walked past the prisoners to a stainless steel cart. Shiny instruments—scalpels, plyers, knives, metal knuckles—were laid out along the top. Rope and other, larger, weapons sat on a bench behind the tray.
    “What are these for?” Bob, as usual, asked the dumbest question possible.
    “Simple. Annie here is Gavin’s little sister. Sin, you already know Stella’s father, Mr. Rousseau. And, Red, this is Twila, Brianne’s mother.” He bent over and patted the woman on her cheek. “Sorry for the less-than-flashy introduction, but you understand, don’t you?”
    She stared silently, her mind far away from the fort and the cold stone beneath her feet. She and the girl must have been taken while they were sleeping. The girl wore a pair of too-small pajamas and the woman was dressed only in an oversized t-shirt.
    Cal grinned and straightened. “I knew you would. We’re going to have a round-robin of bouts amongst the Acquisitions. If your Acquisition fails the match, you will have to harm their family member. The more creative the harm the better. So, really, if you think about it.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Your Acquisition could lose, but you could still win if you really go to town. The rest of the rules don’t even apply, since their relatives aren’t truly Acquisitions. Maim them. Do whatever. Just do it with flair is all I ask.”
    “Ingenious.” I could appreciate his brutality, though I still wanted to grab the closest knife, gut him, and make him chew his own intestines.
    “Well, thank you. Means a lot coming from you.” Cal grinned and headed back the way we came.
    The child shivered and huddled closer to Brianne’s mother. Bob ran his hand over the implements, eagerness in his eyes.
    “Let me go. Please, I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.” Stella’s father clasped his hands together, the