"You think someone's strong because they have all the answers or because they know what they're doing?" he asked, and she bit into another slice, her eyes unblinking as she stared at him and chewed.
"Because they know what they're doing."
"Wrong," he said. "A person's strong because they take advantage of what's in front of them. What do you have in front of you?" he asked, and she looked up at his computer, her forehead lining in a crease, but he sighed again. "Not literally, Phoenix," he said, a sharpness, an edge to his voice when he spoke. "You have slaves with more answers than you do, you should be using them."
"I am."
"You're not. How does Belfire know the things he does, did you ever stop to ask him? What's in all this for him? What deal did he make with me? What does Cassie think? You aren't asking the right questions."
She stared at him a moment, slowly chewing on her food. "Why would you tell me that?"
"I never said I would and it's not me you should be asking. The point is information is useful, but knowing who to ask and what to ask is more important."
She cleared her throat, her voice a little tight, a strange burning in her stomach when she said, "He doesn't like to talk about it."
"What do you care about what he does or doesn't like?" he shook his head. "If he knows something you want to know, figure out a way to get it out of him."
"I-," she started, but then she shook her head. "What's a show?"
"Hmm…" he hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against his chair. "A show is a show."
"You want to use me in one?"
"You are the show," he said. "Took you too long to figure that one out, you're wasting time."
"You could just be clear."
"I don't have to be anything," he said, those eyes flicking open, those Implants flickering. "You understand how this works by now, we're not equals."
She almost didn't ask, but she wanted to and only he could give her the answer. "Why didn't you tell me about the first Fight?"
He let out a soft sigh then, closing his eyes and sinking a little lower in his seat. "That's part of it," he said. "The point is to see who can train their slaves better without using the Fights to scare them. Everything falls on the Trainer, and the Master to know which slaves to buy."
"Were you going to let him pick me?"
He didn't answer, not for a long time, his face so blank and slack she almost thought he was asleep. "There are rules," he said finally.
"Just answer the question."
"What does it matter, hmm?" he asked, his eyes flicking open. "He didn't pick you."
"Were you going to let him?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "You're a Fighter, you fight if I tell you to fight, that's the end of it. Don't get confused, Phoenix, we all have our jobs. You're just here to do yours. What's gotten into you?" he tutted, crossing his legs, his face scrunching up in a scowl. "If you're getting scared, tell me now and don't waste my time."
She didn't know what to say to him, she didn't even know why she'd asked when she knew it didn't matter. A part of her was hurting, a part of her that had started to feel a bit stronger, a bit braver, but then she didn't know what to do about it, so she shook her head, her eyes flicking up to the screen, her forehead lining in a crease.
"If," she started, but that was all she could say before she had to clear her throat. "If you want me to do something like that, you have to give me time to practise. I haven't used my crossbow in a while."
"Now you're finally starting to think straight," he said, reaching out for another slice of fruit from her plate. "You'll get a few hours every other day to work on it," he nodded, and then his eyes flicked to her. "Eat up, Phoenix, unless you're done."
"I'm not done," she whispered. "You can't-," her eyes flicked down to her plate then, her voice so quiet when she said, "You have to eat slow if you're hungry."
He didn't say anything for a while, but then he sighed, sinking a little lower in his chair and closing his eyes. "I gave you light stuff for a reason, Phoenix, just eat what you want."
The next day she didn't wake to the alarm, but to the ring of metal hitting metal. She went so stiff, her head whipping up just enough to peek over the back of that sunken sofa. It was only a House-slave, his eyes going big and wide as he froze, his hand trembling as he went to pick up that knife. She heard a tut then and she turned, spotting that House-slave who had come for her before, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the boy, her head jerking to call him away from setting the table. He was so quick, coming to stand by her at the end of the room, their hands clasped behind their backs, their heads bowed, and Phoenix didn't know what to do then, sitting up so she could keep watching them.
There was a hiss, not from behind that wall where she'd left her boots by the step, but from beside that large bed, the Master stepping out from behind a door, his face buried in a white towel. He sighed, tossing it onto the bed and that boy darted through the open door, the girl following behind the Master without saying a word.
"Enjoy your nap?" he asked, a sharpness, an edge to his voice as he walked across the room, but he didn't wait for an answer.
He pulled out his chair, sighing as he rested his knee up against his desk and stared at the screens. He only wore a pair of white trousers, his hair still wet and glistening, two more Implants on the back of his shoulders shining in the early morning sun. That House-slave poured a drink, putting it on his desk beside him with a little bow, and Phoenix could see it steaming, almost like it was a cup of boiling water, her forehead lining in a crease as she watched it. Master Gabriel sighed, rubbing at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose and then he waved the House-slave away, rolling his chair out and walking to the table.
"You can stay here if you're quiet," he said, his eyes flicking to her, and she stared at him a moment, watching him lean against the table and eat a slice of fruit.
"What makes the most sense?" she asked, but she didn't expect him to laugh, a soft, quiet laugh and he shake his head.
"For me or for you?"
"For everyone."
"Hmm," he hummed. "I have a lot to do, Phoenix. It only makes sense for you to stay if you can keep quiet long enough for me to do it."
She stared at him, her forehead lining in a crease. "I know how to keep quiet," she said, but she didn't expect him to laugh again, a short, quiet laugh, before he took a sip from that steaming cup.
He jerked his head, calling her over to the table, licking his fingers as he finished up that slice of fruit. It was a strange thing to see so many different kinds of food in one place, that crease on her forehead growing deeper and deeper the longer she stared at it.
"You can pick two things," he said. "What do you want?" Her eyes flicked to him and then back to the table, that crease grower even deeper. Her hand reached out, going to grab at the fruit, but then she heard him laughing. "You're really bad at this too. Take that one," he said, pointing at something small and round, something that looked almost golden and thick.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Just eat it."
She glared at him a moment, her fingers a little slow to pick it up. It was light, much lighter than she had expected, but the taste, somehow it was so crisp but soft, somehow it was sweet and salty all at the same time. Her eyes went wide, her fingers darting to her lips to wipe the flakes off of them, her forehead lining in a crease as she stared at what was left of it, and she heard him laughing again, a soft laugh, a quiet laugh.
"It's-," she shook her head. "It's like bread, but it's not."
"I wouldn't exactly call what you think bread is bread," he said. "Try that one."
She looked at what he was pointing at, another one of those golden, round breads, but with something white on the top. Her hand was a little quicker this time and she let out something like a hum, something like a yelp when she bit into it and felt something thick come bursting out.
"It's sweet," she said, her eyes so wide, her finger wiping the cream from her lips.
"Hmm," he hummed, taking it off her and finishing it off. She was almost sad, her mouth still watering, her eyes still wide, but then he said, "That one."
She tried a few more things, her hands always quicker, her eyes always darting around the table to see what was next, but then she pointed at his cup and asked, "What's that?"
He held it out to her, his face so blank and slack, his head tilting to the side as he watched her. So slowly she took it, watching that steam billow off that dark brown surface. It looked almost like a stew, a runny stew, one with not much meat or vegetables and a lot of water. She didn't know what she expected it to taste like, but her face scrunched up in a scowl, her eyes shutting tight for a moment and then she said, "It's bitter."
"You get used to it," he said. "You'd probably like it better with milk."
She watched him pour some in from a small jug, her forehead lining in a crease, her eyes flicking to his face to check for any signs of a trick before she took another sip.
"It's better," she shook her head. "But it's still bitter."
"You don't drink it for the taste," he said. "Not in the beginning anyway." She watched him pour more into another cup, blowing into it before he took a sip. "Just finish that one, I don't like mine with milk."
"What is it?"
"Coffee."
"Coffee?" she asked, looking back down at it, that crease in her forehead even deeper. "This is coffee?"
"Hmm, don't get used to it either. I won't be sending any downstairs for you."
She stared at it again, shaking her head when she said, "That's alright."
He laughed, finishing off something she had left behind and licking his fingers. "I said you could pick two. That was one, you can take one more."
"I'm full," she shook her head.
"You shouldn't be," he said. "But I'll leave it here, make sure you take something before lunch and there's something else," he said, a sharpness springing to his voice. "You fell asleep at my desk last night. You can't do that, what if word gets out that I let you near my computer? It's one thing that I let you when there's nobody here, but what if we'd both fallen asleep, hmm? The House-slaves are in here first thing in the morning. It only takes one of them to see you and then the whole house will know. You need to think ahead."
She stared at him a moment, before she nodded. "I will," she said, and he nodded too, not saying anything, not even making a sound as he walked over to his bed and threw on his white robe. "What are the ones in your shoulders for?"
"Why would I tell you that?" he asked, shaking his head, his voice soft and light.
"How many do you have?"
"The right amount," he said, pulling out his chair and sitting down. "I usually eat lunch when Emery sends everyone in. Do what you want, but make sure you're nowhere near my desk when they come back to set the table."