The Colosseum

Proposition

Ezra

She enters cautiously, like the Dining Hall is a minefield. For her, it is. Depending on where she decides to step in this conversation, this place could either blow up or become a safe haven.

I didn't bat an eye during the duration of Deveraux's interviews, even when Ten announced his plans to kill me and steal my crown if he won. I didn't care about his opinion enough to feel endangered. Not to mention, I'm the one who determines his fate, at the end of the day.

However, I did find myself lingering on two moments when the girl was speaking. The first was when her somber face twisted into disgust and betrayal – an expression I frequently receive from my own family – as Annette Stryker flashed on the plasma screen. I can see the similarity in their expressions, but the ways they deliver them are quite different. When Annette appears intense, it's because she's on edge or angry. When Kova looks like that, it seems to be because she's analyzing her surroundings – I saw that behavior both in her fight and on the stage. My curiosity lies in what about Annette triggered Kova's discomfort. Is there a relation between them that I'm unaware of?

There are many advantages to solidifying a connection to Kova – I can use her as leverage if she proves valuable to Annette, and she can be like my spy to update me on what Ten is planning. What pushed me to make the decision was unexpected, and admittedly a bit impulsive. When Kova ditched her last name, she claimed it was because the people who were supposed to love her left her. It reminded me of something I once said of my own situation. The people who should have loved me pushed me around like dead meat. I jumped at the opportunity to interact with someone who understood what I felt, but the instant I sent the invitation out, I regretted it. I should've turned over my options a bit more. Any decision based on emotions is always a dangerous one. I can't let her know that. I'm commencing this agreement, and I need to make her shiver in fear at how well I can play this humanoid game of chess.

I've ordered Leon to wait outside the door when Kova arrives. She needs to get the impression that I'm a king who needs no protection, even after Ten's unorthodox threat. As the invitation instructed, she left promptly from Deveraux's show, not even bothering to change out of her obnoxiously flashy clothes. The chandelier's firelight glistens off the gold in her hair, her gaudy necklace, and her long earrings, taking my attention away from her accusatory glare for a flitting moment. When I refocus on that glare, I wave a hand across the long table. "Sit," I order.

Not removing her dark eyes from me, she seems to float to the chair set for her, but doesn't seat herself. "I prefer to stand."

Getting up, I stride her way, making my steps slow but powerful. By matching her glower with my own gaze, I assert that I'm aware how she feels about me, but that it doesn't faze me. The closer I get, the more I can visibly see her fear intensifying. Sweat beads along her collarbone; her lower lip quivers ever-so-slightly. I don't pause to wonder why I'm looking at her collarbone or lips, but assume it's a subliminal notion that I'm targeting the spots that are vulnerable on her – the parts that I can easily reach out and damage if necessary.

Though she's clearly terrified, Kova doesn't back down when I invade her personal space, giving us but mere inches between our bodies. "You can't possibly eat while standing," I hum, cocking my head to the side and at the covered dishes on the table. Pulling out the chair, I repeat myself – which isn't something I like to do. "Sit."

Seconds tick by like eons, her harsh expression reminding me of Annette for a beat. But as her line of sight changes from my left eye to my right; to the scar running through my brow; to the food on the table; to the only door in the room, I scold myself. She's weighing her options – not ignoring me to spite me. This isn't Annette Stryker. This is a different being altogether. I'd be better off not underestimating her. Receding her standing position, Kova reluctantly accepts my offer and sits down. She notices that at my chair, there's not a plate or silverware. "You're not eating?" she dubiously inquires.