Captive Danger

Today I thought I would link-up with RED Writing Hood.

 

 

This week's prompt...

write about a face to face meeting which,

for better or for worse,

doesn’t go as planned

 

Step into my world: Rome is a place of power and iron and war. Ionez, a captive from wild Britannica, has found nothing she can't outsmart. Yet.

 

            Word Count: 450

© Pure Grace

 

 

 

 

The hall was blacker than her room and it took a moment to let her eyes adjust. As she stepped forward, eager and daring, a black figure rose out of the gloom before her.

Startled, Ionez halted. A little snake coiled in her stomach, ready to spring. Before she could, a hand shot out a gripped her wrist. Turning her about in one smooth movement, the stranger pushed her back into Brixia’s room bodily. Fighting, Ionez jerked. The hand let go of her, careening her across the room.

Brixia scrambled from her cot and hastily lit a tallow candle. The pale yellow light filled the room and cast bizarre shadows upon the floor and walls.

Ionez rolled over, hands pressed against the cold stone floor. Cleopas stood in the doorway.

A small growl curled in the back of her throat. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Cleopas moved farther into the small room, seeming to take it over with his immense size. “A question more suitably put from me. Marcellus thought you might try something tonight.”

“He sent you!” her voice rose with frenzied anger.

“And well sent.” He folded his arms, looking down on her like to a child. “Will you tell me what you thought you were going to do?”

Ionez leapt to her feet. “I need tell you nothing.” She moved to return to her room, but Cleopas intercepted her.

“He will hear of it.”

“From you!” she spat. “Do you think nothing of your own countrymen?”

“I don’t know? Do you?” His brows rose slightly as she glared at him. “What were you doing?”

Ionez folded her own arms, her eyes shooting daggers. “I was going to wake Aelia,” she said bluntly.

Surprise blanketed his face. “For what purpose?”

She whirled on him, accusing. “Do you never want to fight? Do you never want to show them they can’t master you, Cleopas? Why don’t you show Marcellus he has nothing over you?”

Cleopas’s answer was well measured and quiet. “Because I know it will do no good. If I want to get out of here, the last thing to do is fight.”

“What other method do you propose?” she scoffed.

“I can earn money to buy my freedom.”

“In thirty years, when you are crippled and broken and no longer care for life!”

“At least I’ll have life.”

“Better death than that life.”

“Very well. You are free to choose your path. But remember, after tonight, you will no long be under Brixia or my protection.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Let’s hope so. Good night, Ionez.”