Page 79 of The Gambler's Prize
“You didn’t mean to.”
“Even so, I did it. And you thought I did it on purpose. You know what they say?” He gives me an unusually piercing look. “You should judge a man not by how he treats his equals, but by how he treats his enemies and people under his power?”
I take a moment to digest that mammoth sentence. “Yes?”
“Well, you passed that test,” he says.
“I really don’t think I did, Florian.”
“Think about it. Even when you hated me, you treated me well. You didn’t make me work any harder than you. You gave me a plenty of food, a bed… there was a point I was afraid you would make me sleep on a pile of straw on the floor.”
A guilty laugh escapes me. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, this isn’t helping.”
He strokes my face, gazing into my eyes. I think I could stare into those blue depths for years without getting bored.
“It should make you feel better, Grimes,” he says, sending a shiver up my spine as he says my name. “I ruined your life, and still the worst thing you did to me was, what, make me dig foundations? Sorry, but you lack the evil imagination I’d expect from a proper villain.”
I blink away an irritating moisture at my eyes and try to join in with his kidding.
“So you’re saying that I didn’t scare you?” I say.
He giggles, and it’s like music filling my dingy, bare bedroom. “Maybe at first, you did. But I soon realized your bark was worse than your bite.”
He smiles wide, holding out his arms to me, decadent and expecting to be spoiled. I obediently rush to embrace him. Never mind all the Boss talk, I’ll jump to attention at his slightest invitation.
“Listen, I have an idea,” I tell him.
I get out of bed and go over to my desk, my legs heavy with sleep and the remembrance of last night’s pleasure. I open a drawer and take out a couple of pieces of paper. The contract of Florian’s indentured servitude, the one I ripped up. I haven’t thrown away the pieces yet. I wasn’t sure what to do with them. But now I have the perfect idea. I grab a box of matches and a big fireproof bowl. Florian watches me curiously, propped up on his elbows. I strike a match and light the papers on fire. It takes a moment to catch, then flares up and quickly burns down to nothing. Just ash.
“Why don’t we put the ashes in two lockets?” I say. “As a symbol.”
“A symbol of what?”
“That every day you stay with me is because you’re choosing to, not because you have to.”
Chapter 32
Grimes
Florian and I sit at the kitchen table wearing nothing but underwear. We don’t need to get dressed for breakfast anymore and I can run my eyes over his lean, muscled torso anytime I want. That doesn’t mean the novelty has worn off. When he speaks, I have to ask him to repeat himself because I was too lost in admiring his physique… and the love bites I’ve Ieft all over it.
“I said, what are we doing today, Boss?” Florian says.
He must have some plan in mind. I can tell by the hopeful look in his eyes. Also, he has the local newspaper all ready beside him, just like when the fair was in town. I don’t make all our decisions of course, but when he acts like this I know he wants me to take over. However, he’s still a spoiled little aristocrat at heart. He wants me to take charge, but to decide in accordance with his wishes.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, laughing to myself because I already know his next line.
“It’s up to you, Boss.” He gets all demure, eyes downcast and dark eyelashes bushing his soft cheek, looking so beautiful it breaks my heart. I run a finger over his cheekbone and he looks up at me, hitting me with his sunny smile. That smile alone is enough to melt every care in my tired muscles.
“What have you got in mind?” I say. “Come on, out with it.”
He opens up the newspaper and and points to a page. There’s sketch of a very stylish-looking man with long blond hair and a big, smug smile. Underneath, the headline reads “Famous Rhennian hair stylist Rab Backman in Galbrava for one week only!”
“I was thinking I could use a haircut,” Florian says, though I’ve already gotten the drift. “Rab is the best hairstylist anywhere. I used to visit him all the time back in Rhennes. I miss him.” A wistful note creeps into his voice. As usual, I long to ease his pain and bring back the happiness to his face.
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll take you into town after breakfast. We’ll go before it gets too hot.”
Florian’s eyes light up, the wistfulness vanishing. And then his gaze gets mischievous.
