Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,76

an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe he cares. Besides, the man you call Moe is currently in the dungeons awaiting trial in the arena.”

While this was disconcerting, it was far better than a report of his execution. Having fought against Moe herself, she knew that unless he had to face multiple heavily armed opponents, Moe would be the victor in any fight. Fortunately, Pelarus could have no inkling of the speed with which Moe could move. Although since he undoubtedly wanted Moe dead, he would see to it that the odds were against him.

“And when is that to be?”

Jaquet’s brow rose ever so slightly. “We have not been granted that information.”

“Some help you are,” Klara muttered. She plopped down in a nearby chair with no regard for how dirty her clothing might be. If these three were supposed to be looking after her, they could damn well clean the furniture. Or give her cleaner clothes. The Zuterans themselves looked neat and tidy. But then, they’d probably never had to live on the street with barely enough water for drinking, let alone washing. “Okay then, if you aren’t going to tell me anything useful or help me escape, I’ll take that bath—minus the anointing with oil. Oh, and some clean clothes while you’re at it.” A thought struck her, triggering another shudder. “But no lacy, see-through shit. If I’m going to be faced with You-Know-Who, I’m dammed well going to be dressed decently.”

Jaquet tilted her head, a bemused expression on her pale pink face. “I do not understand.”

“I want something your grandmother would wear. Nothing sexy or provocative. I’m not giving him any ideas in that direction—and a dark cloak if you’ve got one. The longer and thicker the better,” she added, remembering her own cloak, which had undoubtedly been reduced to ash in the fire that destroyed their home.

Home.

She’d never thought of their hideout as being a home, and yet it was. And her gang was her family, despite their disparate origins. Being parted from Moe was like an open wound, but she missed Temfilk, Nexbit, and the Racks dreadfully. Pelarus would only say they were unharmed, but where were they?

Jaquet bowed. “We will do our best to acquiesce to your requests.” Her tone sounded pretty doubtful.

Klara tried another tactic. “You said Moe is in the dungeon, but what about the rest of my gang? Pelarus said they were unharmed, but do you know where they are?”

“I would assume that they are also imprisoned in the dungeons.”

The Zuteran’s careless response made Klara long to choke the life out of the tiny woman.

Better not. Playing on their sympathy would be best.

“My poor little Racks,” Klara lamented. “I can’t stand the thought of them being mistreated.” That they’d been abused as pups would have been obvious to anyone. It had taken a long time to win their trust. The amount of damage that could occur in a short time as prisoners would take months, perhaps years to overcome.

If I ever get the chance to be with them again.

Pelarus had her over a barrel, and he knew it. She wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize the safety of her friends. The mere thought was appalling, but she was going to have to cooperate with Pelarus. Up to a point, anyway.

Of course, she only had his word that any of them was safe. They could already be dead and she would never know.

The other thing was if Moe had to fight in the arena, would she ever know the outcome? Would she even be allowed to watch? Did she want to be?

Of course I have to be there. That’s the plan. Being captured was an eventuality they’d anticipated and planned for. She had a part to play in this rebellion and an obligation to uphold.

Even if it meant having to watch Moe die.

“You will simply have to believe what the Master told you.”

Jaquet’s smug reply had Klara gritting her teeth, but she managed to turn her grimace into a smile. “I guess I will, won’t I? Just wish you’d stop referring to Pelarus as the Master.” Shaking her head, she rose from the chair in one swift motion. “Never mind. Let’s do this bath thing.”

With a curt nod, Jaquet led the way into the next room in the suite. Medras and Verdal brought up the rear like a pair of guard dogs.

The sitting room was posh enough, but the spacious bathroom took Klara’s breath away. The walls and floor were covered with tiles of