13. Fun House Night

13. Fun House Night

Skylenna

“Join the fun! Run, run, run! Our soldiers wait! Run, run, run! The Ringmaster calls! Run, run, run! Only corpses are late!”

Dessin keeps a hand on my lower back as we follow the prisoners back to the circus stage. The speakers blast a child’s creepy song that, I suppose, is meant to get everyone in the mood to participate in Fun House Night.

I want to cover my ears.

“It feels like I’m walking to my own funeral,” Niles deadpans.

“We find Helga Bee first. She can at least give us some insight on what to expect,” Dessin instructs us calmly.

We file toward another entry to the stadium. The doorways are open enough to see the glimmer of golden light and hear the unsettling music, a combination of trumpets, violins, and an old organ. But worst of all, the muffled chatter of more human beings than I have ever heard before in one central setting.

“Do you think anyone dies from these little shows?” Warrose leans close to Dessin’s ear so the others can’t hear him.

“Maybe.”

I have to hold out hope that we’re far too useful for the Mazonist Brothers to dispose of us in a cheap, gory circus. We’re weapons. Why would they be so careless with us?

“I think they’re trying to scare us into submission,” Dessin mutters under his breath.

“Hmm?”

“The Mazonist Brothers. Think about it. What better way to ensure our loyalty? Make the alternative to their plans for us seem so much worse. Keep us in this deranged slice of hell long enough, and we’d do anything for them to stay out of it.” Dessin strokes my back as he whispers in my ear.

“I was literally just thinking about the Mazonist Brothers and why they would risk our safety like this,” I muse, savoring the way his lips graze my hair. “Can you read minds now?”

“We’re back to that theory, huh?”

I shrug.

“It seems we’ve been together long enough to think on the same frequency,” he adds.

Something about that idea puts my mind at ease. We’re growing closer in ways neither of us understand. It feels like he covers my weaknesses, and I cover his. Where one of us ends, the other begins.

“You think they’ll be watching this Fun House Night?” I ask.

He nods, watching the line file through those grand double doors into the blinding light. Nerves prickle over my bruised arms, twisting my stomach like a ribbon into a bow. Theoretically, we may be safe from dying here, but not from suffering. And what about the others? Ruth and Niles would mean nothing to our captors. In fact, they may act as further incentive to do their bidding.

“Focus on getting through tonight.”The voice is back, so real I can feel the tingle of her breath on my cheek.

“You still aren’t going to tell me who you are?”I ask in the stillness of my own thoughts.

“No. At least, not until you need that answer desperately.”

I arch my eyebrow. What’s that supposed to mean?

“Will you help me keep them alive?”Even in my mind, my question is shaky and rimmed with alarm. We’re two steps away from walking through those doors. Into an arena of Vexamen soldiers waiting to be entertained.

With an edge of old wisdom, she answers, “Always.”

Dessin squeezes my hand once before we take our first steps into the giant room of chaos, beaming golden bulbs and a darker shade of red, like dried blood, coloring every surface.

An announcer’s voice blasts through the stadium of people, echoing across the high ceilings, zinging from wall to wall. I follow the sound to a tall, lanky man standing on a raised stage, surrounded by a ring of fire.

“That’s the Ringmaster.”

I nod, waiting to share that bit of information with Dessin.

The Ringmaster is dressed in a glamorized military uniform. Dark red tailcoat with gold trim, a glittering sequined vest, golden chains, leather gloves, and an obnoxious top hat.

“Tevezuíez dulesev nad pöxex ra sïs hogrsás? Bixex nuei bäship Demechnef qeinx ta hues mäh?”His tone reaches the audience, and they laugh, then boo.

Ruth moves close to us to translate. “But shall I switch to the new language of our sister country? That way our little Demechnef guests may understand me?”

Dessin rolls his eyes. “I’m going to guess not.”

The Ringmaster makes another joke, pulling another laugh from the stadium.

“Best to leave them in suspense then,” Ruth deciphers, gawking out at the crowd unnerved.

“Does anyone see Helga Bee?” Dessin asks us.

I search the lines of prisoners filing around the stage, looking up at the ceiling with dread. No sign of her round, blushing face. Come on, Helga Bee. We need you.

We follow our lineup of prisoners toward the edge of the back end of the stage. The crowd throws things at us, not the other prisoners, but us specifically. Handfuls of popcorn. Rotting fruit. And some kind of sludge. They scream at us in outrage. The name Demechnef pops up multiple times.

“I’m not going to repeat any of what I’m hearing.” Ruth lowers her head.

“Don’t make eye contact with them.” Dessin turns to us quickly, jaw set in authority. “We don’t know how interactive they can be.”

I blow out a breath. I want to be strong for my family, I do. But my body is still so stiff from the swelling and bruises. The black sludge Ruth brought me helped with the pain, but I’m still aching and unable to move swiftly.

The Ringmaster yells something final, the beaming lights flash, the music shrieks to its highest volume, and the stadium ignites in wild energy to cheer on the show.

“He says, ‘you know the rules. Deserters will be thrown in the Vex-Reaping! Behold, the Swinging Pit!’”

“But we don’t know the rules.” This may be one of the first times I’ve heard fear in Niles’s voice. He doesn’t usually show negative emotion. Merely covers it up with humor. But that golden face is missing its charming smile. He stays close to the group the way a child would cling to its mother’s leg.

“Did you think they’d give us a manual?” Marilynn snaps at him, irritated and overwhelmed.

“Everyone watch what the prisoners in front of us do. We’ll learn the rules that way.” Dessin scans the stage, studying it thoroughly.

But we need more than to watch. I have to keep us all alive. Dessin and I are safe due to our value to this country. Our family isn’t.

A forty-foot ladder rises from openings in the stage floor, stretching to the glowing ceiling. My eyes follow its length, searching its surrounding area for a purpose.

“Look at the bars,” Dessin says, pointing upward. “They look like swings.”

A stomach-wrenching terror swells and expands in my core. Heights. It has something to do with being at least forty feet above the stage.

One by one, inmates climb to the very top, as if it’s routine, a regular occurrence in their week. The first five hesitate, looking down as if waiting for something to appear.

The stage floor unlatches mechanically, parting right down the middle. It looks like a large pool. Dark water. And for the view of the stadium, it has a glass outer wall so the audience can see inside. A rumble of boots stomping on floors erupts through the crowd. They roar with anticipation. Shout words I don’t understand.

And the five inmates jump away from their ladders, spreading their arms out to latch on to the brass swings six feet in front of them.

My stomach drops as a heavier prisoner slips, plummeting toward the water with a garbled cry. But it’s strangely quiet as he breaks the surface of the water. I lean forward to see his body floating. No struggle. No attempt to tread water, paddle his way to the edge of the stage, or scream for help. Instead, for a few long seconds, he looks like he’s enjoying himself.

Dessin nudges me to look back up at the other prisoners holding onto their swinging bars. It looks harder than it should be. They’re slipping, gasping, making an impressive effort to wrap their fingers around the bars.

“I think they’re trying to swing to the next set of poles, but they’re fighting to hold on,” Dessin whispers to the group.

Jolting my body upright, the man in the pool lets out a childlike cry. A feeble sob. He thrashes through the water like it’s made of mud. His words come slurring past his lips in a rushed attempt to call for help.

“He’s calling out for his mother,” Ruth tells us cautiously. “He keeps saying, ‘you’re not a pet. Don’t obey them.’”

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?” Warrose growls from behind us.

But Dessin and I are at a loss for words. I’m only sprinkled with an ounce of relief when two prisoners swing to the next bar and fumble to the ladder at the end of the stage. They whoop as they descend, flipping off the crowd of Vexamen soldiers.

“So that’s the goal? Make it to the next set of bars, then to the last ladder?” I ask.

“That’s the goal,”the woman in my head answers.

I balk at the sudden intrusion, forgetting she is still here.

“I’m more concerned with the pool at the bottom.” Dessin watches two more prisoners plummet to the water, having the same reaction as the first.

“Tell your friends it’s an oil from their Raven Bone Mines. It seeps into your skin and pulls you into your worst nightmares.”

I blink, process the faceless, nameless thought. They’re going to think I’m insane.

I repeat her words exactly, pausing at the end to wait for the questions that are bound to surface.

Dessin turns to face me with an even expression. “How,” he ponders in disapproval, eyes tracing over my face. “Skylenna, we just got your body temperature back to normal. You can’t go into the void now.”

I shake my head. “I’m not.”

He narrows his eyes, looking back at Warrose.

“She has another card to play, doesn’t she?”

It’s silly, the way a fire in my chest flickers to life with pride. I was never the one with impressive traits to show off. I was the one to cower behind Dessin. To watch his work in admiration.

“I heard a voice when the Blood Mammoths hunted me through the prison. It knew things. Guided me while I was blind. And now it’s back, helping me to make it through tonight.” It sounds…nuts. Off the wall, feverish, out of my mind, in la la land crazy.

But Dessin lifts his chin, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Incredible,” he whispers.

“This may be the only time in my life I will blindly follow someone who hears voices in their head,” Warrose states.

“Wrong.” Dessin steps forward in line without looking back.

Warrose purses his lips. “Forgot you were here.”

The pool is now crowded with flailing inmates. Some of them are swallowing the oil and sinking to the bottom. Some of them are trying to reach for an edge.

I raise my eyes to the stadium of soldiers. They wear their plates of matte black armor, some with helmets, others with half their heads shaved in intricate designs. I follow the crowd to an organized row at the highest perch in the stadium. It’s hard to see that far away, but their faces are painted. Clowns and skeletons. Beasts and reapers.

“Those are the commanders and highest-ranking officers.”

“Does that mean Kaspias is up there?” I ask out loud.

Dessin follows my line of sight.

“Yes,”she says calmly. “Female inmates have the option to leave the Fun House and service the higher ranks in private rooms.”

I decide it’s best to keep that nugget to myself.

Dessin is next in line, looking up at the prisoner climbing above his head. A sentinel waits to give him the go ahead. My stomach coils painfully in a tight ball.

“Tell them the swings are greased. It’s easy to fall when you jump to grab on,”the woman whispers urgently.

“The swings are greased!” I yank Dessin’s arm, curling my fingers around his taut muscle. “Be careful. Please.”

Dessin stares into my eyes for what feels like an entire minute. I soften under his gaze, the one that sinks to the bottom of my soul like an old ship. It’s in this look that says all we need to communicate. He loves me. I love him. In the moments where we couldn’t deny our attraction in the asylum. In the days when only I was allowed to enter the thirteenth room. In the nights we’d spend under the stars. Not even death could keep us apart.

“Everyone hear that? The swings are greased. Don’t let go of it. We all make it to the other side.” And he’s climbing up the ladder now, taking my heart with him.

The sentinel makes me wait as he scales the ladder with speed and precision. His eyes are locked on that swing, watching inmates fall with screaming terror echoing in the stadium like a symphony of death.

Ruth squeezes my hand as he reaches the top, balancing on the balls of his feet, watching the swing move forward and back, timing it just right. His movements are methodical, perfect even. With a sudden stillness, the swing comes back toward him, and he leaps for it. A stellar presentation of his accuracy, so much so that the crowd goes silent. His technique is to jump high enough to secure his hands around the ropes of the swing that aren’t covered in grease. I pass that information on to the others.

Warrose squeezes my shoulder as I start my climb. Nerves bundle together in my chest at the soreness in my limbs. Even with that concoction I drank earlier, my joints are screeching in misery. Muscle cramps in my thighs, but even worse, the shoulder that was dislocated is swelling, throbbing, growing weak from the exertion.

And I’m only climbing a tall ladder.

Fuck.

“Breathe.”

Dessin makes it to the second swing but doesn’t fling himself to the end. He waits, hanging from the ropes as I step up to the top.

His gaze insists that he’s not moving until he knows I’ve made it to him.

The crowd fusses over this, shouting and throwing things. But I fight to tune it all out. I have to jump at the right moment. I have to place my hands on the rope instead of the bar.

My heart dances under my chest, stomping around with building anticipation. The swing falls away, then comes back.

I squat low, then explode upward toward its brass bar. The stadium is muted around me as I soar through the warm air. My hands stretch out, aiming for those ropes. Dessin’s voice blasts through the wall of my concentration.

“Hold on!”

But the moment my hands lock around the swing, gravity pulls me down, pounding into my wounded shoulder like a hammer. That sharp spike of torment makes me shriek, flattening my lungs. Tears crowd my eyes. And the distress comes in sporadic waves. I lose all control over my hands, only caring about making that paralyzing sensation disappear. It blisters under my skin, crackles along my bones. And I must let go, I have to—

Defeat alone forces a cry of frustration from my lips as I watch the stadium move around me in a blur of reds and glowing light. Cheers and loud music spiral back into my ears, briefly distracting me before I see the sheen on the surface of the dark oil pool below me.

It’s cold, thick, and heavy. I sink to the bottom with the cruel gravity that drags me down. I spin around, wafting my hands through the syrupy goo, unsure of which way is up and which way is down.

I’ve failed! I couldn’t even hold on for two fucking seconds!

A whoosh of oil rushes over my body, and suddenly there are hands gripping my waist. Strong arms lift me, pushing me up above his own body. Why am I surprised he would dive into this unknown pond of poison? Why am I elated by the idea that he’d give up certain safety to be with me?

Breaking the surface, I wipe my mouth and nose first, frantic to suck in air.

“Swim, baby! We have to get to the edge before—”

It’s the Raven Bones Mine oil. It works so fast we don’t have time to escape it. My nerve endings tingle, my brain fills with a misty fog, and it’s as if I’m plunging from a cliff or a mountain top. My stomach dips. And Dessin grabs onto me, his strength bruising me in an effort to not let this separate us.

I blink away the solid layer of oil, shake my head from the hit to my equilibrium. But I’m no longer in the stadium. No longer in the prison.

I’m on that fucking beach.

My toes sink into the sand.

My arms prickle with goose bumps against the briny ocean breeze.

“No!” I scream.

I can’t go back to this day. I won’t.

The beach erupts in a battle of clashing swords and the grunting of grown men. I can’t escape what appears right in front of me, Dessin holding those two babies. Locking eyes with me.

“Dessin, behind you!” I bellow. Not again. This can’t happen again!

The tip of the sickle rips through his flesh, breaking the bone in his chest. Once silver, now glossy with blood. I howl at the sight.

And it happens all over again. He crashes to his knees. I fall to him, bracing his full weight in my arms. I can’t rid the burning scent of coppery blood and sea salt from my nostrils.

This show of utter horror can’t get any worse. I just have to survive what I’ve already done once before. He’s mine, God! Please, don’t take him away from me!

“Let me help!” Ruth begs, rushing to my side.

This isn’t right. This isn’t how it happened.

She drops to a knee in front of me, pressing her small hands to Dessin’s wound to help stop the bleeding. Those soft brown eyes peer up at me, shining with fresh tears.

“Ruth, no!” Warrose roars from several yards away.

Her head slides off her body, thumping to the sand as her frame sways for a moment.

“Oh god!” I screech. “Ruth!”

Thick ropes of blood spew from her gaping neck. And then she simply falls forward, landing on my leg. Her head is facing me. Eyes open. Mouth parted.

My Ruth.

My soul sister.

Gone, without a moment to say goodbye.

In a frenzy, I try to gather her head in my hands, and try to piece her back together. I wail as the tears spring from my eyes. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead.

Dessin chokes and gargles on his own blood in my lap.

“Somebody help us!” I blubber, holding them to me the best I can.

“Skylenna!” Niles shouts from behind me. “We have to get him out!”

No. Not Niles.

I turn in time to see the fire consume every inch of his skin. His screams pierce my ears, surging through my body until his pain is my own. But he doesn’t put the fire out. The flames grow bigger, higher, sending smoke signals to the clouds.

And DaiSzek is caught between the burning stakes, he’s

“Can you see me now?”A voice made of iron, silk, and old wisdom breaks through the storm of my trepidation. I look up through my tears, searching through the battle raging on before me.

“Focus, Skylenna,”she purrs.

I blink the tears away, squinting to see past the blood.

“In the trees.”

There. A tall, lean woman. Glowing bronze skin, long coffee-colored hair, and white paint drawn in beautiful streaks across her face. She nearly blends in with the trees with her red leather attire, corset, gold buckles, and belted straps from her neck to her ankles.

“Are you—the voice in my head?” I ask between sobs.

She nods once.

I’m suddenly made aware that nothing here can hurt me as long as I know it isn’t real. A cool shower of respite coats my skin.

“You can pull Dessin and your friends out of this through the sound of your voice. Be their anchor. Find the light in this darkness.”

I exhale slowly. I think of the warm memories. The bright beacons of light that have guided me through hard times before.

I remember the day Kane took me to the Red Oaks on the hottest day of the year. We swam in the lagoon, ate fruit on the bank. I was nine and he was twelve. It was the first time he kissed my hand. I felt the thrill of freefalling into a pool of pure, uncorrupted happiness. After blushing and turning away, I brought the top of my hand back to my own lips and kissed the same spot.

His eyes widened.

And I said, “It’s like we actually kissed!”

Kane threw his head back and laughed. “When we finally have our first kiss, it won’t be through your hand, Skylittle!”

I thought about that moment every day until I lost my memory.

Through hazy clouds and slow motor functions, I have the sensation of my mouth back. Only now, instead of the beach, I’m sitting in the Red Oaks.

“Dessin? Can you hear me?” I call out to the soothing winds.

His arms still hold me in the oily pool. We tread the thick liquid together, blind and stuck in our own minds.

He doesn’t answer.

“Reach him with your light,”the woman says.

“Remember when we first met in the asylum? Everyone told me to be afraid of you. They warned me countlessly. Even Niles and Chekiss. But when I looked into your beautiful brown eyes, I was almost embarrassed at how far from fear I strayed. I felt lightning pass through me when I shook your hand.”

I hesitate before I continue. We’re swimming in oil. And Dessin is making no attempt to respond to my call. Is there a chance this is…Aquarus?

After a long pause, I say, “I’ve been waiting to see you again since our time in the bathtub. You saw me at my worst, Aquarus. I’m sorry for that. But do you remember how we drank, and you told me all about your time in the inner world?” I feel silly speaking to the empty forest of red oak trees. There’s a chance it’s not even

“Little siren?” His husky, deep voice seeps into the wind around me.

“I’m here. Follow my voice,” I say with a smile.

“I’m confused.”

“I know. But as I speak, I want you to feel me in your heart, okay?” I don’t wait for his confirmation to continue. “When we were in that tub, I flirted with you.”

“With your foot,” he drawls.

“Yes.” I grin. “I liked you.”

His presence seems to move closer somehow. “Do you still?”

“I do. You were there for me, comforted me, even though I’m only a human to you. Even though you hardly knew me.”

A large man steps out from behind a cluster of trees, pushing the red leaves away from his face. He’s over six foot seven, broader and more muscular than any man I’ve ever seen. His hair is long and golden, tied in a few braids down his back. Arms and chest covered in a beautiful art of blue tattoos.

“Aquarus?” I step forward.

He nods, studying the length of my body with cerulean eyes.

“We’re in the Vexamen Prison, fell into a pool of drugged oil, and are pretty much hallucinating right now. I’m not exactly sure how we’re sharing a hallucination, though,” I breathe out.

“I don’t need an explanation to have time alone with you,” he says, low and twisted in the northern accent. “And I’m not surprised we’ve found ourselves in another human lodging of imprisonment.”

I laugh, blushing as he takes another step closer.

“I think we need to have positive thoughts in order to get out of here. I’m worried our friends would have jumped in after Dessin and me.”

He lifts his chin in understanding. “I see.”

“What are your happy thoughts, Aquarus?”

“The sunset glimmering off the ocean surface.”

“And?”

“Coral reefs at dawn.”

“Go on.”

“The way a shipwreck ages beautifully over time.”

I watch him, imagining all the magical sights he’s visited in the inner world.

“The bathtub,” he says finally.

“The bathtub,” I repeat.

He nods, unblinking as he doesn’t take his eyes from me.

“Have you given much thought to it?” I ask casually, kicking my foot in the dirt.

“For the first time, I’ve been eager to come to the front again. Because of the bathtub.”

The wind, carrying the scent of cedar and rain, brushes his long hair over one shoulder. And if possible, he looks even more ethereal than he did before. His stance, those calm, watchful eyes. I’m drawn in like a moth to a flame.

With two cautious steps, I reach my hand out to touch his face. That square jaw and coarse stubble. A large, iron hand seizes my palm, plucking it between two of his fingers. He examines it carefully, like he’s never seen a woman’s hand up close before. My wrist rotates slowly in his grasp, and his cool fingers snake up my skin, caressing me like he’s never felt anything so soft.

I can’t help but gasp as he pulls me forward, gently placing my open hand over his cheek. Aquarus exhales, like he’s waited a lifetime to be trapped here, against my palm.

“You’re so warm, little siren,” he rasps.

My stomach swarms with rabid butterflies. His cool skin tingles my nerve endings, sending a rush of adrenaline down to my lower belly.

In the distance, a murky hole opens to us. Flickers of light, brief roars of a cheering audience. Aquarus barely glances at it.

I narrow my eyes through the opening, catching a glimpse of Warrose holding Ruth in the sheen of the pool of oil.

“Warrose!” I scream, trying to break through his drugged haze. “You have to think of happy memories. You have to pull Ruth out of the hallucinations with positive thoughts!”

I don’t know if he hears me, but we need to try to get back.

“Aquarus, if we don’t make it back in time, we might drown.”

Even though he doesn’t believe he can drown, he shifts anyway, kissing the palm of my hand before entwining his fingers with mine, and running toward our way back to reality.

~

Warrose

The oil doesn’t work onme the way it does the others.

Maybe it isn’t only native to Vexamen. I used to have to trudge through oil in a cave to get to the Nyx-Neruvian Bats. They used to suck me into horrendous hallucinations, but after fifteen or so forced trips from Demechnef, I grew a tolerance. But that’s only half the battle. It numbs the part of your brain that can take action. That motor function where you can command your body to swim your way out of it. All I can do is hook my arms under Ruth’s and hold her to my chest while I kick my legs to keep us afloat.

“You have to think of happy memories. You have to pull Ruth out of the hallucinations with positive thoughts!” Skylenna screams at me in a slur.

Hope spikes through my chest, flipping my heart upside down. I wasn’t sure how long I could hear Ruth scream, feel her shudder in horror at whatever she’s seeing behind her lids.

“Ruth,” I say calmly, even though I want to shout, curse, beg, grovel. Anything to make her feel better. “It’s Warrose. I’m here.”

She continues to thrash in my arms, sloshing the oil around in greasy waves.

The crowd cheers as another inmate sinks to the bottom, drowning in what I can only imagine is an excruciating death.

Happy memories. Do we have any of those? I don’t know much about her past. And we don’t have great ones together.

Uhh, okay, let’s try this.“Think of the time you yanked me in that river, remember? I was pissed, you were stubborn. I yelled at you. You yelled back.”

She cries out in pain, and it feels like someone jabbed a knife in my back.

Fuck.

I suck ass at this. I’ve never been great with my words. With trying to make someone feel better. When Kane cried after training, I would pat him on the back and say, “There, there.”

You have a beautiful voice, Warrose.

The idea sizzles to the surface of my brain. The room is so loud with people drowning, soldiers chanting, no one else would hear me.

I start to hum the beginning of a song. A tune my father used to sing to my mother about the queens of Alkadon. It’s originally about one blue-eyed, blonde queen who ruled beside four kings. But I change one small detail.

“The queen of kings, only one, must she be if there were none. Born in forest, filled with stars, her beauty radiates through her scars.”My voice vibrates my chest into her tense back. She whimpers at my words, stirring slightly.

“Her blood is to rule, her heart is to fight. But when men bring darkness, her brown eyes bring light.”

Find your way back, Ruth.

“My queen is ruby, shining in red, but did you know how hard she tries not to lose her head? Kings are cruel, conjuring war, drawing blood, and craving more. But our brown-eyed queen will outlive the sun, for her reign of peace has only just begun.”

My father said five hundred years ago, she was the only ruler who outlived the other four kings. They tried time after time to behead her, but the people’s love protected her.

“Warrose,” Ruth croaks, her hands tightening around my wrists.

“I’ve got you,” I say huskily in her ear. “I’m not letting you go.”

“I shouldn’t have jumped in,” she groans, letting her head fall back against my shoulder.

I’m just thankful Niles and Marilynn made it across. I know Dessin would have a heart attack if he had to worry about saving everyone. The moment Ruth saw Skylenna fall, she scrambled up that ladder so damn fast. She wasn’t thinking clearly. But fuck, it was brave. Fierce. And kind of funny that she thought she could be of any help to them in here.

“I can see again.”

Thank God.

“Good, I’ll swim us out of here the moment my brain is able to speak to my body again,” I grunt. It’s getting harder and harder to keep us above the pool of oil, but I won’t let her drown. I don’t care if that means letting her use my body as a human floating device.

“You followed me in,” she states with a heavy tone. “You didn’t have to jump in after me.”

“I did.”

She sighs, and it almost looks like her eyes are glossing over with tears.

“I fucked up.”

“I know.”

“I thought that I’d be able to swim fast, help Skylenna before the oil could mess with my head. I-I messed up, Warrose.” Her voice is a shell of a whisper, weak, gentle. Filled with embarrassment.

I don’t say anything. But my arms pull her closer to my chest, hugging her in my only form of comfort.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she sniffles, tightening her grip around my wrists.

“I’m dead weight for the group. I’m going to get someone killed. I’m usel—”

“Don’t finish that statement,” I growl.

“It’s true.”

Fuck, she’s trying so hard not to cry. The knot in her throat thickens, straining her words.

“Look how much you’ve helped. We’d be sitting ducks without someone to translate. We wouldn’t have gotten that bowl of soup from Kaspias without you.”

The pool of oil sloshes around us in waves, slapping upward against the backs of our heads, splashing over our chins.

“You want to know what the audience thinks?” she asks me with a mocking tone.

Not even a little bit.

“They’re yelling at me to join the higher-ranking officers in private rooms. It’s the only way a female inmate can escape the Fun House Nights. By servicing a commander with our bodies…”

I spit out a trickle of oil that slips past my lips. “Fuck that idea right up the ass.”

“Maybe I should take the offer. That way, none of you have to worry about keeping me alive.” She says it like it’s an option, but I know the notion is making her cringe.

A slow, creeping rage blisters under my skin.

“I could—”

“Ruth, my little rebel, if you offer another horrible fucking idea while we’re in here, I’m going to drown myself.” But the damage is done. I can’t get the goddamned image out of my mind. Ruth (wearing her pathetic excuse for a uniform) in a private room, with wild Vexamen soldiers. No. Fuck no. Christ, why would she think that’s any better than this? I’d rather save her ass here than imagine her small, delicate frame under a demented member of this country’s armed forces.

“You’re growling,” she comments.

Am I?My chest expands as I take a steadying breath.

A man next to us howls like a dog, sobbing as his eyes gaze vacantly at the ceiling. The crowd rumbles, stomps, waves their arms in the stadium at something the announcer says.

“Please keep that thought as far away from your brain and mouth as it can get, okay?” I try not to sound too demanding. But if I come across as a dick? So be it. She’ll never make good on that dumb ass suggestion.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

I roll my eyes as her body shifts backward, and before I can adjust, her ass is pressed firmly to my groin. My teeth grind to the point of pain.

“Aren’t I, though? It’ll do you some good to have someone tell you what to do,” I whisper in her ear. My cock throbs as she shivers against me.

“Should I call you daddy, too?”

Heat, blood, and energy completely abandon my brain to rush to my crotch. What the fuck is happening? Did that turn me on? Yes. Fuck, it really did.

“You can.” The words are sticky in my throat. We’re in front of a stadium filled with sadistic monsters, and I’m sporting a hard-on at the word Daddy.

“And I suppose you’ll have me bend over when I’m bad, too?”

Fuckkkkkk Ruthhhhhhhh.

Without thinking, I push my hips forward, nudging my erection against her ass, then like a psychopath, I wrap my hand around her narrow throat. She goes completely still, breath hitching in her lungs, goose bumps rising on the back of her neck. And to my surprise, she arches her back and ass against my hard cock. I lose all control of my body. I groan into her ear.

“Thank God, you two are alright!” Skylenna’s head pops up to the right of me, shocking my balls back into my body.

“Shit!” Ruth’s body jerks in my arms, but still, neither of us can move.

“Aquarus can swim now, he’ll get us out,” Skylenna explains, hair coated in oil, face glistening with sweat.

I feel completely emasculated as Aquarus drags us through the oil, heaving each of us on the stage with little effort.

Marilynn and Niles rush to our sides with towels to dry off the oil. My skin tingles and twitches as my motor functions start to work again. Without making eye contact, I slap Aquarus on the back and say, “Thanks, man.”

He nods, eyes clouding over as they dissociate.

“Niles and Marilynn are okay?” Skylenna asks, unable to see that they’re standing close by with the oil clouding her vision.

“Okay, look everyone, I was definitely going to jump—I mean, obviously, right? But then I had an irrational fear of the oil lighting up in flames and I froze.” Niles kneels beside Ruth, who is making disgusted faces as she wrings the oil out of her hair.

“And I told him we would only add to your plate if we jumped in, too,” Marilynn adds irritably.

Ruth rolls her eyes, feeling bad enough for thinking she could help.

The Ringmaster yells out an announcement, his words causing the soldiers to jump up in celebration. Behind me, the stage floors close over the pool. Sealing the prisoners inside who haven’t drowned yet.

I look up at Aquarus. “Looks like you got us out just in time.”

“What did he do?” The alter blinks in slight confusion, looking from me to the closing stage, trying to figure it out.

“Aquarus was able to swim through the oil before any of us could. He got us all out,” Skylenna says, stroking the back of his arm.

“Dess?” I narrow my eyes at him.

He nods once, looking up at the Ringmaster, who has begun a new speech.

“Ruth?” Skylenna raises her eyebrows for that very helpful translation.

“He says it’s time for the Vex-Reaping. And he’s explaining how this time, they won’t run out of oil…” Ruth’s eyes widen as she whips her head back to the stage. “Niles, close your eyes!”