Chapter Twelve
Etta stood outside, in the courtyard, her bow clutched in one hand. She fiddled with an arrow, placing it between the wood and string.
Her feet edged a little way from each other, making tiny footprints in the dirt beneath her. She twisted her body so she could see the target.
A round red dot in a sea of white.
Fingers curled around the string, she pulled back slowly, her elbow to her eye. Her breath beat against the outside of her thumb, flooding all around it.
One, and in, two, and out.
She flicked her fingers up.
The arrow shot through the air, piercing the air with a soft swoop. It hit the red dot right in the middle. Right where she thought it would.
Her palm stung and she brought it up to her face. The stitches that the medic had been forced to apply stretched across her skin. It'd been four days with hardly any improvement. It didn't rip apart when she drew back her arrow anymore. But it didn't go a couple of hours without bleeding either. She swallowed.
A slow clap erupted from behind her, and she turned to see it was the slaves. Four of them watching from the bars, their claps in unison.
Etta narrowed her eyes, letting her bow fall to her side.
She rolled her eyes, not wanting to look at them any longer. They were so skinny and titch. One of the girls didn't look older than twelve, yet she was holding a sword in one hand, and her other arm was bruised. To the point where it seemed to take over her skin.
She had to get away from them.
Etta found herself running, the bow still clutched in her good hand. She went for the kitchens, hoping that the cook would be able to cheer her up. Frederich was singing again, stirring yet another big pot of something, but with a boy in tow. The boy seemed to be sprinkling dried herbs into the mixture. It was Matilda's friend. Etta stopped herself just before the kitchen entrance, and took a moment to peer at them.
They were both so happy, the corners of their mouths pulling up into grins. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled like that.
The door creaked and Frederich's eyes whipped up. The boy looked too but no ounce of happiness could be seen in his face.
But he didn't say anything to her. Not like he would had she caught him on his own. He didn't respect her, that much was obvious, but he wasn't stupid enough to call her out in front of a paid worker.
She was in charge there. He knew that.
'What can I do for you, Miss Etta?' Frederich's bright red cheeks wobbled as he spoke.
The boy stared down into the pot.
'Nothing.' Etta looked from one to the other. She turned to go but a voice stopped her.
'She didn't deserve it.'
'Gorj...' Frederich growled.
She span back around. Gorj still hadn't looked up but she knew it was him who spoke.
'Ruth.' She didn't need to question it. She knew that was who he was talking about. He nodded.
She didn't wait. Her hand flew to his throat and she slammed him against the kitchen wall. He yelped and her insides curled.
'What?' She squeezed.
'Etta, leave him.' Frederich's rough hand touched her wrist. If it had been anyone else, they would've seized it. But he didn't. He just touched, lightly, like she was made of gold leaf, that ingredient that sometimes sprinkled her cake. She looked across to him and let go, and Gorj sank.
'Don't ever speak to me again,' she said, resisting the urge to kick the boy on the ground.
She swung round and stomped from the room.
Passing through the atrium, she tried to hold in her tears for a little while longer. She'd wanted to crush every word inside Gorj's throat.
The door to Drax's office was open.
And voices flooded out of it.
One word of all stood out to her.
Matilda.
She stopped her stomping, then figured she should probably keep going and then tiptoe back. She did exactly that and ended up outside the atrium door. There was no guard on watch and he or she would probably be back soon. But Etta was too enthralled in their conversation to worry about that.
'It is a dead end then?' Margaux's voice rang out across the room. She must've been confident that no one would dare listen in or know what they were talking of.
Drax made a disgruntled noise but Etta knew it was him. 'Hmph.'
'Maybe we should accept that she is gone.'
'No.'
Etta leaned closer, her ears hanging on their every word. She was sure she'd heard Matilda's name being spoken, sure that was who they were talking about.
'We've had escapees before. We will again.'
'Never one this important!' Her brother cut her off with a thick snarl.
'So what do you suggest? Have every guard in DeMarcus out looking for her? It's been four moons. She is gone.'
'That is exactly what I am suggesting.' She could hear Drax pacing, his boots against the cold stone floor. 'Nobody can know she was ever here.'
'No one can know that we didn't recognise her, Drax. We are supposed to be...'
But Margaux trailed off. Etta's stomach dropped as she realised that the Drayton was looking straight at her. Her beady eyes connected with Etta's, who slowly started to back from the door. She turned on her heel and rushed, hearing her own boots clacking around the corridor.
'Lanista!' Margaux roared, opening the door fully. Drax stood just a little behind her. The roar was something else, if Etta hadn't have turned so quickly she would've thought it'd come from Drax's mouth. The soles of her feet were stuck to the floor, every muscle in her legs heavy. Stopping her from moving, completely terrified.
'Get back here,' the Drayton growled. 'Now.'
Etta thought about what Margaux had said to her in the infirmary, like it was swarming around her mind. She was stuck there until they disposed of her. They could twist every last will out of her until there was nothing left. They enjoyed keeping her broken,
Well.
She wasn't done yet.
With her chin lifted, she walked towards the now empty doorway, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.
'Speak.' Drax's harsh short word sent a bubble through her belly. But she didn't care. The dull ache in her hand reminded her just how much she didn't care.
'About what?'
'You know very well, you dirty eavesdropper.' Margaux's eyes seemed to flash red. 'You and Matilda. Where is she?'
Etta shrugged. 'Why would I know?'
Drax's fists were balled as his chest rose slowly, his nostrils wide, absolutely livid.
'Do not speak to your superiors in such an impertinent manner.'
She looked down at her hand, the gauze protecting her stitches slowly dampening with dark red blood. She swallowed.
'Sorry, sir.' She wasn't sorry at all and she hadn't managed to keep the bitterness out of her words.
'You took extra care with this one, didn't you, lanista?' Margaux raised her drawn on eyebrows, peering over her glasses. Her ruined fingernails rested against each other in the middle of her chest. Etta couldn't read her. Her blank expression, the light crinkle in her forehead. Nothing. Not even the smudged lipstick on her bottom lip blemishing Margaux's usually perfect features.
'I needed her to win.'
'No.' Margaux spread her fingers out on the table, sighing as she looked down at them. 'No, Etta. You liked her. You don't like anyone and you liked her. Why?'
'I didn't like her.'
'Liar.'
Etta hung her head for a few seconds before looking Margaux straight in the eyes and shaking her head, her lip as straight a line as she could make it. She took in a big breath before speaking.
'I don't know where she is. She left me to fight and murder Ruth. I do not like her. I never want to see her again. Okay?' Oh god, she could feel it. At the top of her nose, back of her throat. That tingle in her teeth. She turned, her hand on the door, not wanting them to see her anger. It wasn't the normal type either, not accompanied by the hot burning that made her feel invincible. No, instead she felt the tears build up, like any second they'd spill from her displaying just how weak she really was.
'Don't you find it odd, Drax, that Etta displayed affection towards this girl, the first affection we have ever witnessed, and then on the morning of the girl's certain death, she goes missing?'
'Yes, Margaux, I do.'
Etta breathed, watching the blood from her bandage smear on the door handle. They didn't suspect her. They couldn't. If they did she wouldn't be standing there and they sure as hell wouldn't have waited four days to accuse her of it.
'So kill me,' she mumbled. She turned, slamming her hands down on her thighs forgetting the sting in her bloodying hand. 'That's the penalty for freeing a slave, isn't it?'
Drax's pupils dilated had so much that his irises were disguised. 'Death is too good for you.' He was demonic.
'What do you want from me?' She wanted to scream it at them. Wanted to etch it onto the table, the walls, their skin. Wanted them to feel each word as the shrieked it. They had to know, had to hear, had to be wrong and her right. But she hadn't screamed like she needed. She'd barely uttered it.
'The worst.' The corner of Drax's mouth curled, a dimple showing in the side of his cheek. 'We want the worst of you.'
She smirked, her own actions catching her off guard. 'Well, you've bloody got it, haven't you?'
The air between them died. She pulled her bow over her head and threw it to the side so frantically that the Draytons didn't have time to react. She shook off her quiver, spilling arrows to the floor. She grabbed her sword last, letting it roll around in her palm for a second as she dropped it with a clatter to the stone.
'You've got it.' She breathed. 'I am your prisoner and you have created the worst of me.'
The Draytons passed bored glances to each other. Margaux's eyes then flicked up to Etta's and held there while she spoke.
'What makes you think you could survive on the outside, Etta?'
Etta blinked. That wasn't what she had expected.
'The world is full of people surviving.' Etta shivered at the thought. 'I'm no different.'
Margaux snapped her eyes back to her brother's.
'Shall we test that theory?'
Etta swallowed. What? Test what theory? Her mouth opened and closed again. Her gaze dropped to the weapons on the floor and for a second she couldn't remember how they got there. She looked back up again, to Margaux, to Drax, and back to Margaux again.
'We need to find that girl.' Margaux tapped her fingers on the table. 'You're so eager to get out there, find her for us.'
'Why would you trust me?'
'Trust you?' The Drayton scoffed. 'Oh no, my dear, we don't trust you. I don't think for one second that you'll do anything but bring her back here. That's not because I trust you. It's because you belong here, with us, with yourself. It's different out there. If we hadn't provided for you these past eleven years then you would've starved.' Margaux sighed and flexed her fingers. 'I've told you before but I'll say it again. You will die here, Etta.'
Etta was stumped. They wanted her to go after Matilda and bring her back to them? They thought that would be something she'd do?
'No.'
'You want to leave, don't you?'
'Yes, but...'
'And this is a way for you to prove to us you can survive, isn't it?'
'Yes, but...'
'And you will be able to return that treacherous rat to us. For if it weren't for her, you wouldn't have had to fight Ruth. Kill Ruth. Murder her in such a way that her own mother wouldn't recognise her.'
Burning hot anger rushed through Etta's veins. It was true but she didn't want Margaux using that as a reason to do their work for them.
'And if you like your taste of the outside world, we'll let you live in it.' Margaux pressed her palms together. 'You will still work for us but you won't be confined here.'
Etta let her mouth hang open. It had to be joke, didn't it? No way would they just let her walk out of there. They'd drilled that into her for a long time and Margaux had reminded her that she would die there. The underside of her wrist seemed to itch and she looked down at the tatty rag that hung there.
'And all I have to do is find Matilda?'
'Yes.'
In her eleven years in the Establishment she'd learned not to ask questions. Never to doubt the Draytons. That what they did was right. Always. But she couldn't help the niggle in her chest and her mouth seemed to be working without her brain.
'Why? Who is she?'
'You do not need to know.' Margaux dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. 'You can start in the morning.'
And she was shunned from the office.