Free Tanys Gladiatrix (The Chronicles of Tanys Book 2) by Andrew Hunter Page B

politely at his own joke, flinching slightly at the Malchesse's dark look.
    "Quite so," the Duke said, "surely the word of this Tanys' skill must already be spreading throughout the city. She will be worth quite a lot of money tomorrow."
    Tanys' cheeks flushed hotly and her glare fell upon Haru'Luk.
    "I..." Haru said, "I'm afraid she's not..."
    "Of course," the Duke interrupted, "it is only good form that you offer the Malchesse first chance at bidding on her... given the situation."
    Tanys' fists balled tightly at her sides, and she trembled more with anger than blood loss.
    "That's really not..." Haru said.
    "Name your price!" It was the Prince who spoke. The pale satyr still sat, watching Tanys with his cold blue eyes. Tanys stared back.
    "My Lord," Haru said, "I don't know what to say..."
    "Thirty thousand would be a fair price, don't you think, Malchesse?" the Duke said.
    "A fair price," the black satyr consented, as though the words pained him.
    "I'll pay it then," the Prince said, "She's yours now, Malchesse. I expect that the next time I see her, she will have been taught her place." The Prince stood and swept from the room, leaving them all in stunned silence.
    "Certainly, my Prince," the Malchesse said, a cruel smile spreading on his thin lips, "It will be done."
    Tanys managed one brief look over her shoulder as the guards dragged her screaming from the room. Haru was watching her with an expression of utter helplessness as the Duke wrapped his arm around Haru's shoulders, laughing at some private jest.
Chapter 7
    Tanys awoke to the splash of cold water over her naked body. She was still chained to the floor of the stone cell where she had spent the past three days and nights. The brutally efficient Malchesse medic had erased nearly every trace of the wounds Brecia had inflicted on her body, though his groping had been far less tender than Danella's healing touch. It was not the medic that faced her now, empty bucket in hand, but Varkaa.
    "Did I wake you?" the scar-faced gladiatrix laughed.
    "I should thank you," Tanys said, "The sight of your face made me forget whatever nightmare I was having before this."
    Varkaa turned the bucket over, placing it upside down on the floor a short distance from Tanys and sat on it like a stool, her long legs splayed apart shamelessly before Tanys. "I'm happy you can still joke about your situation," Varkaa said, "It shows that you don't yet realize how fucked you are, and I wanted to be the one that showed you."
    Tanys struggled into a seated position, her wrists shackled to the floor between her legs by a short chain. She looked around the empty cell. "You didn't bring your dogs with you this time?" Tanys asked.
    Varkaa's eyes flashed. "It's just you and me now," she said, "I'll send the medic in later to fix whatever I break. He's quite good, you know... really enjoys his work."
    "If he's the one who fixed your face, I'd just as soon stay broken."
    Varkaa leapt to her feet, dealing Tanys a savage backhand blow across the cheek. Tanys strained against her chains, but they were too securely bolted to the floor. She braced herself for what was to come, her eyes focused intently on the opposite wall.
    "Well," Tanys said, "get on with it."
    Varkaa laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. The scarred gladiatrix set her feet slightly apart, her muscles flexed, and she began driving blow after blow into Tanys' unyielding body.
    Tanys pushed her mind down inside a tight cocoon of hate, the pain of the flesh held back by a red wall of rage. Varkaa's attacks came like buffeting winds that passed over and left her reeling. Varkaa's strikes grew stronger with the intensity of her frustration as Tanys showed no reaction to the brutal beating. Finally Varkaa sobbed in rage, smashed her fist into Tanys' head with all of her strength. It was the sound of breaking fingers that left the trace of a smile on Tanys' face as she slumped, unconscious to the floor.
    The sting of a damp cloth on her cheek