Taming The Ringmaster Read online

  Taming The Ringmaster (Her Freaks Book Two).

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 K.A. Knight & Erin O’Kane, all rights reserved.

  Written by K.A. Knight & Erin O’Kane

  Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading

  Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services

  Cover by Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art.

  Contents

  Don’t Miss Out…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  K.A. Knight

  Erin O’Kane

  Also By K.A Knight

  Also By Erin O’kane

  Don’t Miss Out…

  Make sure to catch up on Rhea and her men’s adventures in these short stories (especially if you want all the steam)

  https://books2read.com/DTvolumeone

  Dedication

  For all those who have fallen into the darkness and clawed your way back. You are stronger than you ever know.

  The road smooths out under the wagon wheels, signalling the change from the rougher back road to the paved one that leads into the city. The clacking of the horses’ hooves against the concrete is a welcome variation from the rattling of the wagons that have seen better days on the dusty, barren land we have been travelling across.

  Poking my head out of the window in the side of the wagon, I spot the sign proudly welcoming us to “Last Stop.” To my disappointment, there isn’t much to see yet, just the same barren land on either side of the paved road, but the sign fills me with hope.

  “What have you heard about the city?” I ask curiously.

  Bringing my head back in, I sit in my seat and face Alcide, where he watches me from the opposite bench. Rex is riding with the animals, Nixon is to my left, and Blain and Jesse are in the next carriage.

  “Not much, other than they have more wealth and food than they know what to do with. It’s a mecca of a kind, people always want to journey here, but afterwards you don’t hear much. Maybe they find peace, maybe they don’t, but I guess we are going to see,” he says matter-of-factly.

  His words from our last show ring in my head. He mentioned a storm, and even now his eyes are shrouded with doubts and worry. What’s my strong ringmaster so scared of? The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever it is...it isn’t good. I’m about to ask why we are still journeying to the city when it’s obvious he has worries about what we’ll face here.

  “It will be a place of choices,” Nixon declares, his voice ringing with knowing. When I look over in question, he gives me an unreadable look. Sometimes, I don’t think he even knows where the words and feelings come from, but they are always right. I wonder what choices await us? For a girl who was a slave, with every decision made for her, choice can only be a good thing. Right?

  We sit in silence after that, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I’m hoping this will be good for us. More money means more visitors, and that can only help our show, right? Worry worms through me, but I force it away, trying to be positive. It’s no good going into the city already judging it. Life always finds a way to give you the unexpected, and it’s usually what you need.

  “We’re here,” Nixon announces, and I lean over him to look out of the window again.

  My mouth drops open in awe, my eyes widening and my breath nearly stopping. It’s...imposing. A giant, rough grey wall rises as far as the eye can see, appearing to touch the sky. As we move closer to the large gate, I start to see the tops of buildings. Guards await us, standing outside of the metal entryway, their eyes harsh and postures rigid. At their sides, I spot the weapons of old...guns, I think they were called—to protect its inhabitants, or to keep people out?

  The wagon stops and Alcide forces a smile. “It’s show time,” he declares, before sliding across the bench and opening the door. He gets out in one smooth move and I follow after him, with Nixon hot on my heels. I see the change happen in Alcide as he puts on his ringmaster facade, stepping confidently towards the guards who are eyeing us with suspicion.

  “I am Alcide, of Alcide’s Circus. We were invited here to perform.” His voice is strong, demanding, as if he belongs here, and none of his previous apprehension is visible. Extending his arm towards the guards, he holds out a cream envelope I have never seen before. The guard takes the letter and scans it before handing it to his colleague. I can’t read what it says from here, but I can see the paper is creased and worn, like it has been opened and folded countless times. How long has he had this?

  Shock courses through me. When Alcide mentioned coming to the city, he didn’t say we were invited. Why would he keep that from us...from me? I throw him a look, but he purposely averts his gaze and I make a mental note to ask him about it later. We are a family and we promised to tell each other the truth, no matter the outcome. I push these thoughts aside, knowing we need to focus on getting into the city right now. I’ll deal with Alcide later.

  The guards watch us as one of them brings a radio to their mouth and speaks into it. Not two minutes later, I hear the noise of cogs and machines and the gate starts to open.

  “You’re expected. Your...circus, can head to the grounds we have cleared for you, but you are required to meet the Masters before you perform.” With no other words, they back away, watching us carefully as Alcide nods and makes his way to the wagon. I watch the huge gates roll open for a minute before turning and joining him. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  Once back on the wagon, we start to move again, heading inside the city. It’s slow going, and when I glance out of the window, I spot the crowd of people littering the sides. People working, living, and everything between, I realise.

  “It might be faster for me to walk to see the Masters and then meet you at the grounds,” Alcide suggests, avoiding our gazes and looking out of the window.

  “You don’t go alone,” I state, my voice coming out stronger than I intended. I shrink a little bit when his eyes lock on me. He is silent for a moment as he weighs my words before nodding sharply.

  “I won’t be, you and Nixon are coming with me.” He knocks on the carriage door and it comes to a stop. Jumping out onto the paved street, he straightens up and leans back in to offer me his hand. I take it slowly and step out into the bustling street, with Nixon following closely behind.

  “Wait here, I will let the others know, cariño,” Alcide orders, as he kisses my hand before moving to the next carriage, which has been following us.

  I wait there with Nixon, fighting the urge to fidget, but no one pays us any mind. It’s as if a circus rolling into their town isn’t unusual to them. Apart from one—a young boy sitting on the dirty ground. His big, blue eyes are locked on me, and if I wasn’t scanning the crowd, I wouldn’t have noticed him, he blends in that well. His skin is a dark brown, brushed with pale dust from the street. His hair is black, the dark locks a tangled mess on this head. And his only clothing are shorts made of rags. I see the scars raised on his skin and my heart pangs in pain for this young boy. Scars like that only come from being beaten. If it wasn’t for my own abilities,
I would be covered in the same scars. Frowning when I spot his ribs sticking out and the cracked quality of his lips, I lean back into the carriage and grab my own rations. I know a starving child when I see one.

  Stepping through the crowd, I crouch before him when I reach him. Nixon doesn’t try to stop me, just follows silently behind me. The boy doesn’t flinch or run away, just stares with eyes that know too much, and are too knowing for such one so young.

  “Here,” I offer softly, thrusting the water and food at him. He eyes them before looking back at me.

  “Why?” One word, one simple question, but it shatters my heart because it holds so much distrust.

  “Why not?” I counter.

  He slowly reaches out and I spot a black mark on the inside of his wrist. It appears to be a tattoo, a symbol of two swords crossing. I lean closer to get a better look, but he snatches the food from me and moves back before I can.

  “Thank you, your kindness will not be forgotten,” he replies formally, before rushing away.

  Frowning, I stand up and look over my shoulder to see Alcide and Nixon waiting for me, both watching the boy and me.

  “Come, we better not keep the Masters waiting,” he calls. Nodding, I give the crowd where the boy disappeared one last look before walking back and taking his offered arm.

  A guard waits for us, his expression blank but his eyes sharp as he watches us walk towards him. Without a word, he turns on his heel and leads the way through the city. It is nothing like Cinders or even the other villages we have performed in, all of which were much bigger than where I grew up. This city has buildings and more people than I can count. The people openly wear jewels and clean clothes, which look like they haven’t seen any wear and tear or wars. Even the shops are open and clear, selling things I can’t even begin to name or describe, but if you look closely, under all the brightness and show of wealth, it seems...off.

  Children are quiet, often dirty, and I spot the odd beggar here and there before they are quickly ushered away by guards. It’s not the fact that there are beggars that disturbs me. In our fucked up world, beggars are the norm, so I would expect to see them, but I only see them because I am looking for them. Everything here is all so...controlled. Beneath the beauty hides a darkness, I know that more than most. Could Last Stop be the same? Or is the richness of this city a true paradise?

  The guard leads us through the streets at a breakneck pace, and I find myself having to concentrate on walking rather than on looking around. We make so many twists and turns, that I know we’d get lost trying to find our way back. Maybe that’s what they intended.

  We follow the guard as he marches through a bustling square, where a water fountain and statue stand proudly in the middle. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful and I want to stop to admire the craftsmanship, but we swerve around it, stopping before a towering building, which proudly boasts “City Hall.”

  “They are waiting inside,” the guard states, watching us as we climb the stone steps to the wooden doors. Glass, unbroken and clean, allows us to see through the doors, and I spot more guards waiting inside.

  Nixon opens the door and holds it for us as Alcide leads the way. Another set of doors with golden inlays stand open, and we are stopped by two guards who, upon our entrance, immediately step forward to block our path.

  “You must be scanned for security,” one announces on the left, his eyes hard and cold.

  “Scanned?” I echo, but Alcide gives me a tight look and steps forward, blocking the guards’ view of me.

  “Of course.” With a flourish, he bows, pulling off his hat as he dips low. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve thought he’s just an eccentric performer, which is probably exactly what he wants them to believe. The distraction works and their attention moves off of me and lands on him as he effortlessly works his charm.

  “This way,” the guard orders, and we’re shuffled to the side where a strange contraption awaits. The technology here is strange.

  A guard sits to the side facing a monitor, his eyes focused on it with rapt attention. I reluctantly drag my eyes back as Alcide steps up to the towering silver machine that stands before us. It’s tall and rectangular, like a doorway, but it’s freestanding and has a blinking green light at the top. The guard gestures Alcide towards the machine and he walks through to the other side, the green light still flashing brightly.

  “Next,” the guard calls, and the attention is once again on me.

  Alcide turns and faces me, giving me a nod as he waits on the other side. I step up to the machine and blow out a breath as I step through. A small alarm sounds and I look up in horror to see the light flashing red. My panicked gaze meets Alcide’s, as two guards step up to me. Am I in trouble?

  “Please step through,” they order, and I do as I am told, my gut clenching in fear of the unknown.

  He stops before me and holds his arms to the side. “Please hold your arms like this.”

  Again, I do as I’m told and he steps closer, pulling a silver wand from his side. He hovers it over me, starting at my head and working down to my neck, chest, and arms, until he waves it around my middle where it bleeps. He continues down to my legs and when no other sound emits from the machine, he hovers it over my waist again.

  “Please untuck your shirt,” he demands, watching me closely.

  My cheeks flame and I hear Nixon move behind me, but I hold up my hand to stop him, knowing he wants to protect my dignity. I pull the hem of the red, gypsy style top out from my tight, black leather trousers, exposing the tanned skin of my waist. The gold chains hanging from my waist sway as the guard waves the wand again. When it hovers over the chains, it beeps.

  “That’s fine.” He waves me away and I pull down my shirt, tucking it in again before joining Alcide. I breathe a sigh of relief before looking at the machine with interest, realizing it must have detected the metal in my clothing.

  I turn in time to see Nixon tilt his head down so he can get through the machine. It doesn’t bleep, but I doubt they would’ve scanned him with the wand if it had. As he comes through, the guards actually take a step back. Sometimes I forget how massive he is until other people react. He’s just my gentle Nixon, but they only see his hulking size.

  “Fourth floor, first door on your left,” one of them calls, before going back to watch the entrance.

  We all turn, looking for the stairs, when a man in a black shirt and trousers waves us over to a silver door. He presses a button in the wall next to it and we wait in an awkward silence. I start to fidget as unease courses through me, but I freeze when the doors open to reveal a small room. The man steps inside before gesturing for us to join him and I cautiously follow. As we all shuffle around the tight space, I end up squeezed between Alcide and Nixon.

  The doors close and then the room suddenly jolts, moving upwards. My eyes widen and I suck in a breath, reaching out to my men as my stomach flips and my legs turn wobbly. The whole world feels as if it’s moving around us.

  The box slows to a stop and as the doors open, I rush forward with a relieved sigh. Once again on solid ground, I give the moving room a dirty look. Alcide grins, his expression full of amusement, as he and Nixon step out to join me. We watch as the doors shut once more with the man still inside, presumably returning to the floor we just left.

  Turning to the hallway, our boots meet soft carpet as we follow the directions the guard had given us. Paintings adorn the walls, all depicting men in suits looking away into the distance. To me, they just look bored, but what do I know about art?

  Artificial lights shine down on the dull corridor and the door we arrive at is a deep brown with a golden handle. The amount of technology astounds me again. In Cinders, we mostly used candlelight, since the power was never reliable that far out into the wilds.

  “Should we knock?” I whispered, looking around anxiously. It reminds me of Frederick’s house to a degree, and that in and of itself makes me want to cringe and abandon my newfound conf
idence, and retreat back into that meek little slave I used to be.

  “No, they invited us.” Alcide sniffs, standing taller as he tugs his jacket straight. He grins down at me, but he can’t hide the worry in his eyes.

  “Rhea, I know it will be hard, but for our sakes, please try to stay quiet. These men won’t be like us, they won’t see you as anything else but a slave and a woman, it could put you in danger,” he explains and I nod. I know exactly the type of men we are about to see, but Alcide is wrong—whether I speak or not, they will see me.

  I point out as much. “Even if I don’t speak, they will notice me, and if they want to hurt me badly enough they will, slave or no slave, woman or no woman. They are rich, that makes them powerful and power is heady. It makes them think they are on top of the world. Whether I talk or not, I have no protection from them. But for you, I won’t,” I offer, and look back at the door.

  “Sometimes, I forget how far you have come from being that slave we brought home, Rhea. I fear you’re right, but let’s not provoke them.” He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, before letting go and opening the door without bothering to knock.

  He steps into the room like he owns it, and I follow after him with Nixon barely a step behind me. I make sure to hide behind Alcide slightly without looking like I’m doing it on purpose. I know how to play invisible, and I hope it will come in useful now. A table is all that fills the room. It’s long and the same kind of wood from the doorway—dark and expensive. Six chairs surround the table and only three are filled, all of which by men. More paintings fill the wall, one of the city itself after the wars. Two windows frame that painting, looking down onto the city. A silver chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and I take it all in before focusing back on the men who called us here. The room is opulent and the obvious display of wealth here when the world is suffering fills me with anger, which I have to stifle. These guys are obviously in charge of the city, and I could create a lot of trouble for us if I start causing problems.