Etta

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Etta entered the dining hall, only one of the two long tables cluttered at the end. All the Draytons, lanistae, and three fighters sat, all looking at her. Jason had managed to get another fighter after his died in the last munera, unlike her, who'd been stuck in isolation instead.

It was Margaux who had spoken.

She refrained from sticking her hands in her pockets, as she usually got told off for that kind of thing. Instead she made her way towards the table. She shrugged off her bow and quiver, pulled out a chair, and plonked herself down on it. The only spare seat was next to Drax, and Etta felt uncomfortable. Like her whole left side was on alert.

A servant came up to her and asked her what she wanted for breakfast, but she waved him away.

'Eat,' said Drax, staring across the table, not giving her the pleasure of his eye contact. She curled her left fist and told herself not to punch him in the throat.

She asked for some toast and honey,

'Good girl.' He lifted his hand and brought it down on her back, exactly where her lines were. He knew. To the others it would've looked like a friendly pat, but Drax knew it sent pain through her body. She winced.

Margaux was in deep conversation with Ruth and Daryl. Well, just Daryl while Ruth picked at her food. She didn't acknowledge Etta as she sat down, or her sharp intake of breath as Drax stroked her back.

'Get off me,' she said, her tone low and barely audible over the clatter of knives and forks.

Drax's hand stopped, his thumb over a sharp line. He pressed and she arched forwards.

He was looking at her that time, his dark, almost black eyes, boring into her own grey ones. She held the side of the table in front of her, her nails digging into it.

Drax leaned in. 'You will not tell me how to act.' He pressed his thumb down even harder.

Her breathing quickened, sick churning in her stomach, and she turned her head. Drax let a cruel smile creep across his face and Etta thought about her nails in the wood, and not the burning sensation in her back. Her nails bent but she kept them glued to the table.

'What do you think, Drax?' Margaux interrupted.

Drax's hand dropped. 'Hm?'

'About Ruth gaining her freedom if she wins her next two munera'

Etta's head snapped up. What? That was what they got told when they joined, but it had never actually happened. When she was on her eighteenth, she never got offered that, it was never discussed around a breakfast table.

'Oh,' replied Drax, taking a sip from his chalice. 'Well, of course. Those are the rules.'

Etta kept quiet, anger building inside her. They were never going to let her go, surely. Ruth knew far too much, she'd accomplished so much. Though did she know as much as Etta? Probably not. They'd always withheld her freedom for unknown reasons. They couldn't just let Ruth go, could they? Her following didn't seem as strong as Etta's own, although she must've been liked. There were always cheers for her. But if they kept her on, who would she replace? There'd never been five lanistae in the history of the establishment. It wouldn't happen, it couldn't happen.

It looked as though Ruth knew that too, her gaze holding somewhere over Etta's right shoulder. Tuning out.

Everyone appeared to be ignoring her throughout the entire conversation. She scraped the top wood from the table with her thumb nail.