Read Online The Gladiator Prince by Minnette Meador - Free Book Online
Authors: Minnette Meador
Tags: Romance
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she stared at the compound and knew why. If her father knew what had transpired in the bathhouse, they would hunt down Thane’s children, slay them before his eyes then crucify him.
A deep chill rushed through her neck. Would her father do that?
Down to the very morrow of her bones, Phaedra knew the answer; of course he would. No one betrayed Abella and got away with it. It is why she kept Bahar’s secret so close… it was why he must never know about the vow to her nurse Althea.
Suddenly all the petty reasons, all the childish anger leaked out of her like honey from a comb. She could never betray Thane, not in her wildest imaginings. It confused her, but made the commitment no less compelling.
Setting her jaw, she walked quickly. She decided that she would say nothing to Abella and wished to the gods that Hasani would find her pleasing. In the aftermath of Thane’s seduction, that prospect did not seem as appealing as it had.
When she reached the back wall of the house, music chimed from the banquet room and Phaedra knew the men feasted to the upcoming nuptials. Peaking from behind some bushes, she spotted Agatha, the head slave, outside sweeping out the only entrance. Phaedra watched until the woman disappeared into the house. She then quietly crossed to the door.
Looking both ways, she stepped cautiously into the atrium and found it empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she dashed up a wide staircase then into her cubiculum .
Someone had lit the fire, and several lamps hung along the wall, making it a welcome place. Pulling the curtain tight, she stripped off the thoroughly soiled tunic and scoured her skin from the basin on her vanity. When she hauled her legs up and examined them in the bronze mirror, she saw a disaster of scrapes. Deep bruises marred the delicate white flesh of her arms where the Iberian had squeezed her. It took her forever to get the tangles out of her hair.
Half an hour later, scrubbed, dressed in a warm nightgown and her hair brushed, she sat on a bench next to the balustrade of her balcony, with her head leaning against the wall, listening to the rain pelting down in worn puddles in the gardens. The air smelled of washed foliage and musk. The quiet music from somewhere deep in the house mingled with the spatter of rain lulled her, and she came to a final decision. She would marry Hasani, make him a perfect wife, take Bahar with them to Egypt and there, live as a queen. She would have many happy fat babies, beautiful dresses, servants to grant her deepest wishes, and warm desert nights serenaded by Greek and Egyptian musicians.
A sound startled her, and she came out of the dream, but before she could utter a sound, a hand materialized in front of her and clamped itself against her mouth. Someone threw an arm around her waist, yanked her back into her chambers and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could scream, Bahar’s face suddenly appeared above her out of the darkness. All the lights had been extinguished.
“Quiet,” he hissed, turning his face toward the door. Phaedra had never seen her brother this agitated.
“What is it? What is wrong?” she bellowed, but he lifted the back of his hand as if to strike her, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
Grimacing, Bahar took her hand and pulled her through the room and out into the hallway, glancing from side to side and listening intently. Then, apparently when it was safe, he pulled her down the flight of stairs and back out into the night.
When they were well out of earshot, Phaedra refused to go any further and planted her feet, pulling Bahar back.
“What is going on?” she demanded, loosening her hand from his grip.
He scanned the darkness then motioned her to follow him into the woods.
After several hundred feet, he stopped abruptly and for the first time in years, Phaedra watched in horror as Bahar put his back to a tree and sank to sit, sobbing.
She went to him at once, shaken completely. Bahar never sobbed, never
A deep chill rushed through her neck. Would her father do that?
Down to the very morrow of her bones, Phaedra knew the answer; of course he would. No one betrayed Abella and got away with it. It is why she kept Bahar’s secret so close… it was why he must never know about the vow to her nurse Althea.
Suddenly all the petty reasons, all the childish anger leaked out of her like honey from a comb. She could never betray Thane, not in her wildest imaginings. It confused her, but made the commitment no less compelling.
Setting her jaw, she walked quickly. She decided that she would say nothing to Abella and wished to the gods that Hasani would find her pleasing. In the aftermath of Thane’s seduction, that prospect did not seem as appealing as it had.
When she reached the back wall of the house, music chimed from the banquet room and Phaedra knew the men feasted to the upcoming nuptials. Peaking from behind some bushes, she spotted Agatha, the head slave, outside sweeping out the only entrance. Phaedra watched until the woman disappeared into the house. She then quietly crossed to the door.
Looking both ways, she stepped cautiously into the atrium and found it empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she dashed up a wide staircase then into her cubiculum .
Someone had lit the fire, and several lamps hung along the wall, making it a welcome place. Pulling the curtain tight, she stripped off the thoroughly soiled tunic and scoured her skin from the basin on her vanity. When she hauled her legs up and examined them in the bronze mirror, she saw a disaster of scrapes. Deep bruises marred the delicate white flesh of her arms where the Iberian had squeezed her. It took her forever to get the tangles out of her hair.
Half an hour later, scrubbed, dressed in a warm nightgown and her hair brushed, she sat on a bench next to the balustrade of her balcony, with her head leaning against the wall, listening to the rain pelting down in worn puddles in the gardens. The air smelled of washed foliage and musk. The quiet music from somewhere deep in the house mingled with the spatter of rain lulled her, and she came to a final decision. She would marry Hasani, make him a perfect wife, take Bahar with them to Egypt and there, live as a queen. She would have many happy fat babies, beautiful dresses, servants to grant her deepest wishes, and warm desert nights serenaded by Greek and Egyptian musicians.
A sound startled her, and she came out of the dream, but before she could utter a sound, a hand materialized in front of her and clamped itself against her mouth. Someone threw an arm around her waist, yanked her back into her chambers and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could scream, Bahar’s face suddenly appeared above her out of the darkness. All the lights had been extinguished.
“Quiet,” he hissed, turning his face toward the door. Phaedra had never seen her brother this agitated.
“What is it? What is wrong?” she bellowed, but he lifted the back of his hand as if to strike her, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
Grimacing, Bahar took her hand and pulled her through the room and out into the hallway, glancing from side to side and listening intently. Then, apparently when it was safe, he pulled her down the flight of stairs and back out into the night.
When they were well out of earshot, Phaedra refused to go any further and planted her feet, pulling Bahar back.
“What is going on?” she demanded, loosening her hand from his grip.
He scanned the darkness then motioned her to follow him into the woods.
After several hundred feet, he stopped abruptly and for the first time in years, Phaedra watched in horror as Bahar put his back to a tree and sank to sit, sobbing.
She went to him at once, shaken completely. Bahar never sobbed, never
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