her hold me for a few moments, taking in the smell of her familiar sharp perfume.
As if she’s had an epiphany, she jerks me back and looks down at me. “He didn’t take you, though. Think about it, if he is truly as bad as they say, why wouldn’t he have just had his way with you? Or taken you away there and then? He didn’t, which means there’s hope. Maybe he changed his mind.”
I give her a smile that I don’t feel and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
She runs her fingers through my long messed up ponytail. “I’ll speak to Conrim as soon as this client is gone. He is usually quite knowledgeable, and I have a few juicy bits of gossip about Opal to trade him.”
Giving her a singular laugh, I release my hold on her. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says. “Now go. You don’t want to piss off Maxim any more than you have already.”
The cavern is still quiet when I arrive.
Normally, my mornings are spent alone in my room. I’m wakened with breakfast—apples, currants, and plums if the season is right, and the dried variety if it’s not—and then I’ll read for a while until the men fetch the tub of hot water for bathing.
By the time I’m ready for practice and show my face down here, it is closer to lunch than breakfast. Normally, the stalls are open and there are people milling around. The pups pester, begging to show you a trick in exchange for an earring or a hair-clip.
This morning there is none of that.
The lights are still off and there is only silence.
I enter the main tent. Denim is sitting on one of the benches, alone and apparently staring into nothing. I approach and sit down beside him, but if he notices me he doesn’t let on.
“Denny?”
I watch him in the veiled shadows. His jaw ticks just a fraction, as if he’s fighting not to answer me.
“You can’t give me the silent treatment,” I decide aloud.
He turns and lifts an eyebrow at me. “Your face is a mess,” he says, before turning back around.
“I’ve not had my bath yet.”
Denim nods once.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I’m ordered specifically not to tell you. I’m only to show you,” he says.
“Does it involve staring into an empty ring?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
He nudges me with his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have done what you did.”
I swallow. “I know.”
“Maxim is angry.”
That much was obvious from his reaction this morning. But I wasn’t thinking about that last night. And I especially wasn’t thinking about how Maxim being angry with me might hurt Denim. “I know.”
“If Baron hadn’t…” he trails off, letting the words hang between us like a heavy curtain.
“If he hadn’t what?”
“Never mind,” he says, shaking his head and standing up. “I speak out of place.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but the fact that he doesn’t want to say it means I want to hear it. No more burying my head in the sand. “Denim, please. Tell me?”
He shakes his head again, firmer this time. “No. Maxim was right. The only way I can help you now is to prepare you for what’s coming.”
Maxim was right about what?
But Denim is already making his way to the center of the ring. Clearly, the only hope I have of finding out what the hell is going on lies in following him.
“Remove your robe and stand right here,” he says, drawing a line in the sand with his foot before he continues on to the backstage curtain.
I do as he says, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
He’s acting the way he always does when I’m about to learn something new.
It’s like there are two sides of Denim, the one where he sits outside my door like an old faithful German Shepard, where he laughs with me and steals me treats from the kitchen. And then there is the other side. The side he’s showing me now. This one only comes out when there is a distinct possibility of me getting hurt. It’s like his way of disassociating himself from that.
When he returns from backstage I’m surprised to see he is alone.
“Where is Romanov?” I ask. Romanov is my partner. He’s the one with the real skill, mostly. He’s the one who’s trained to hurt me while at the same time ensuring I don’t die.
“Romanov is not part of this act,” he says. It’s then I notice the thick black straps