Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,5

nowhere near ready for that.

The most we’ve done is practice with apples, and I’ve only just started being able to finish without huge bruises all over my body.

“I’m not… We’re still practicing.”

Maxim turns and looks between Denim and Conrim. Denim scratches his chin and takes a breath, as if he’s about to speak, before he finally finds his words. “Sir, if I may, what if she—”

“You may not.” Maxim cuts him off with a raised hand. “Tell me. What do you think is more valuable, the price on this girl’s life, or the money every customer he sends this way spends?”

Denim looks down at the ground, and it becomes clear he won’t respond to that.

Maxim smiles and focuses his eyes back on me. “It’s time for you to earn your keep. Ensure they are not bored. And if you dance well, perhaps you’ll live long enough to earn it again.”

With that, he turns his back and storms away, probably back to his box to watch me and see what will become of his most expensive investment.

I stare blankly between Denim and Conrim, hoping one of them will tell me what to do. A look of pity grows in their eyes, and the longer they look at me in silence, the faster my heart beats and the heavier the weight in my stomach becomes.

“Conrim, go and find Romanov. Tell him the plan has changed.” Denim says the words without taking his eyes from me, but Conrim nods and goes to do his bidding.

“I’m not ready,” I tell him.

Denim nods. “I know.”

“He would… he doesn’t care.” I’m talking about Maxim, and I don’t know if I’m saying it for Denim’s benefit or my own.

The words hurt more as the reality settles in.

He doesn’t care if I live or die.

He would sacrifice my life to prevent one man’s boredom.

I guess it is my own stupidity that makes this hurt as much as it does. I thought I was special. My whole life I’ve been treated as if I was special.

The exception.

Maxim doted on me more than the rest. He made me the star of the show. And not only that, though he treated all his girls well when it came to material things, he gave me something even more valuable.

He gave me time.

Maxim taught me how to read and write himself. And when I got too curious even for him, he paid for a tutor. An old one who still had knowledge of the old world.

What girl who is destined to die in the middle of a ring needs a tutor?

He called me the carnival’s daughter, and because he doted on me so did everyone else. And I never questioned that. I always knew the day would come when someone rich enough to afford me would walk through the door, but I never thought he’d see me dead before that happened.

Denim interrupts my thoughts by placing a hand on my shoulder.

Denim, who is the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.

While Maxim taught me things and spent time with me, there was no tenderness or love there. Denim—though I couldn’t describe him as overly loving or tender—was always just present.

“Just remember your steps. I have seen you practice. Listen to the music and let it guide you,” he says.

I nod. I know what to do; I just don’t think I can do it.

I was never one of those girls who were born to dance. Dancing, for me, brings back memories of only pain and suffering. Of being made to do it until I dropped from exhaustion and my feet were bleeding and sore.

There was never a choice, and there was always something I would rather be doing instead.

Tonight, I was supposed to be strapped to a revolving disk while Romanov threw daggers at the spaces between my limbs. A routine we’ve done hundreds of times.

All I had to do was lie there and look terrified.

Scream a little.

Flinch every time one got too close.

It was methodical and pre-determined. The wheel spins at a certain rate, and Romanov knows exactly what beat to throw, ensuring he’d never hit me.

Now, it’s the same concept. It’s all done with beats of music. Except tonight I won’t lie there and look pretty.

Tonight, I will dance for my life.

The sand shifts under my feet as I walk out into the center of the ring. I remove the long black skirt of gossamer silk that would only act as a target, and now, standing in just a corset and