“What makes you say that?”
Maya sat back on her haunches. “You are acting different. Less closed in. More at peace, if such a thing can be achieved here.” She paused, then said, “You are like the champions’ monebi. The ones weaned off their drugs. They smile like you. They own a peace the others can’t gain. Just like you.”
Over the past few nights, 901 had healed. He had been excused from fighting, from leaving his cell. But I was still delivered to him every night. It was later than usual and I was collected first thing in the morning. There wasn’t much time for talking, but when I walked in the cell, he would immediately hold out his hand. I would take it as he guided me to his bed. We would fall asleep facing each other, until the drugs struck my veins and pulled me under. I would always wake later, flush against his chest.
Safe.
“Miss?” Maya pushed, and I cleared my head once again. She was watching me expectantly. Maya’s shoulders sagged. “You like him.” It wasn’t a question. She knew it to be the truth.
Dropping my head to run the water through my fingers, I said, “I like him very much. More than I fear I should.”
“Miss, you cannot pursue anything with 901.”
My stomach fell at the urgency in her quiet but hurried tone. “Why?”
“Master,” she whispered, then glanced back to the door. When she faced me again, the blood had drained from her face. “Master can’t think you have feelings for 901, or 901 has them for you.” I sat patiently, waiting for her to continue. “He has given you to 901 because 901 showed interest in you. I watch Master, miss. I watch his every move, to protect you.” Her small hands gripped the edge of the tub. “He is obsessed, miss. I don’t think you realize the extent.” She looked down, then took a long breath. “I … I have followed him sometimes. To see where he goes at night when you are with 901.”
“And where does he go?”
“To the champions’ quarters, miss. He watches you being taken by 901.” She looked away, a sad expression spreading on her face.
“What are you not telling me?” I questioned.
Maya slumped back. “He often goes to the monebi quarters afterward.”
I stilled.
“He takes a mona, one with dark hair and preferably blue eyes.” She stopped talking after that. I stood from the tub and wrapped myself in the towel. I sat down opposite Maya and took hold of her shaking hand.
“What, Maya? Tell me.”
“He hurts them,” she said almost inaudibly. “He punishes them as he takes them. Beats them, lashes them, all while calling your name.”
Every muscle in my body drained of energy. “He does what?”
Maya suddenly leaned forward, gripping my hand tightly. “You can’t like 901, miss. Master wouldn’t tolerate it. The last High Mona—”
“What?” I pushed, jerking her hand. “What have you discovered?”
“I asked around, miss. I asked the other chiri. One of them confided in me that the High Mona, the one before you, the one Master never looked at like he does you, he had her killed. He hurt her for days and days before she died, because she had affection for a warrior, a warrior Master made her visit … just like you and 901.” Maya’s fingers shook. “She risked her life to visit him in secret. Her chiri helped her in leading the way. She was killed, too.”
“No,” I said in a hushed voice. My heart thudded too loud and too fast at the thought of the female before me. My heart squeezed in understanding. She had found a male she wanted to be with, one he forced her to be with, then killed her. It was too cruel.
“And the warrior?” I questioned. “What happened to the male?”
“The next night Master entered him in a championship match.” Maya’s dark eyes never moved from mine. A cold trickle dripped down my spine, a stark realization hitting home. “901,” I whispered. “He fought 901. 901 killed him.”
Maya nodded. “He wouldn’t have known. To him he would have been just another opponent.”
“But 901 is undefeated,” I concluded. “Master knew he had sentenced him to die.”
Maya nodded slowly. “Miss, you must keep your emotional distance from 901 until Master believes there is no threat. If he believes you have feelings for each other”—she shook her head, her face paling—“there is no telling what he would do. Master is unpredictable, and he is deadly. I fear that the way he feels toward you, the compete fascination, the obsession he has for you, will make him that much more cruel.”
“I understand,” I said. And I did. Maya checked the time and got to her feet. “Miss, I have to get you ready. You are to attend the second and final show fight with Master tonight.”
As her words left her lips, my legs grew numb. Maya crouched down. “What, miss?”
“901 is fighting again tonight,” I said, and watched Maya’s expression reflect one of worry like mine. “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t see him hurt like that again.”
“You must,” Maya said, and cupped my face, wiping away tears I didn’t know had fallen. “You must act as though he means nothing to you.”
The sound of guards approaching pulled my attention. I had just risen from the floor, guided by Maya, when the door to my room slammed open. Fear ran through my veins like ice, sluggish and slow, when Master walked through. He was impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place. But the hard glint to his eyes told me that tonight I was dealing with the Master that liked to cause pain. The Master that liked to be cruel. The one that liked to make you scream.
I froze when his eyes collided with mine. Master, cool and controlled as always, made his way to me. But I saw his cheek twitch with each step; it betrayed the anger simmering beneath.