by T. C. Edge
"Come in, Dom," he heard the voice inside say.
He opened the door up and saw Kira sitting up on her bed. He moved in and shut the door behind him.
"You knew it was me?"
She shrugged.
"I know your smell, and your step," she said. "Usually, the scent of wine is a good precursor to your arrival."
She smiled, and Dom's resolve weakened. He headed quickly for a table at the side of the room and poured two further cups of wine. He left the flask there, already half empty, and moved over to the bed. He set a cup in her hand, their fingers touching briefly, and a shiver faded up his spine.
"So, it's official then?" Kira asked calmly.
Dom looked at her.
"Did you...hear my conversation? With Rufus?"
She shook her head.
"No. Just...why else would you be here?" She took a sip of wine. "I suppose this is to help relax me, right?"
Dom nodded.
"When will it happen?"
"Tomorrow. Midday."
Kira's eyes shifted, though Dom didn't notice. He was having trouble making eye contact with her.
"Well, no point in delaying the inevitable," Kira said. Her voice maintained a brightness. It only deepened the shame in Dom.
"I wanted to tell you personally," he said. "And, um, tell you how sorry I am..."
"No need. No point."
Dom drank more wine. His head was muddying already.
"I wish I could take it back," he murmured. "All of it. My life has been a lie. All I want to do is make things right."
Kira reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. It drew his eyes up to hers, shining with a fierce green.
"If you want to make things right, then you have to look forward," she said. "It's too late for me. I know you can't help me, Dom. And I know that you want to."
She smiled, and his heart was racing. He wandered now into her eyes, and saw right through into her thoughts. The urge to see deeper inside her took hold, and through he went, so eager to see if she truly hated him for what he was and what he'd done, if this facade of hers was just a lie.
He scanned her outermost thoughts, and what he saw set his heart clattering at a more ferocious pace.
Because Kira's mind was bent on escape.
He saw it so briefly, before withdrawing. A plan that involved Merk, so frightened now in this city, so fearful for his safety, and Gwyn and Finn too, Kira's allies in the cells. He'd told Merk of the secret passage in a drunken state, and now the old caretaker was set to use it. He would summon Gwyn and Finn from the cells, sneak them past the guards, and together the four would escape the city overnight, freeing all from the spectre of death, always stalking their step.
He saw it in a flash, and then he withdrew. His eyes flicked away and he began drinking his wine again, hiding behind the rim of the cup. And hidden, his thoughts now took a turn. A turn that considered it all in one, sweeping motion.
And a question rose.
Maybe, he wondered, he should let it play out.
Kira could hear the hammering in Dom's heart, and feel the sudden web of electrical impulses rushing through his head as they made eye-contact. It happened quickly, too quick for her to prevent it, and yet she knew at that moment that Dom was using his telepathy.
She'd spent time around such people before, many times in fact. One of her closest friends in Haven was skilled at manipulating minds, and over the years she'd learnt to shield her thoughts from such intrusions, only show off those that she wasn't trying to hide.
Her guard, however, had dropped. It had done so only briefly, but it had been enough. As she sat there on the bed, she knew Dom had passed through the veil, and her thoughts, right now, rarely moved off from the tantalising prospect of escaping that very night.
She had her confirmation, now, that it would have to be that night. She'd thought all day about it, and had spoken a couple of times with Merk too. The old man, though clearly anxious, remained on board. If she failed to escape tonight, then she'd suffer her execution tomorrow.
There was no other chance.
And here she sat, her thoughts betraying her before the very man who controlled her fate. As he raised his goblet to his mouth, and hid his eyes from Kira's supreme sight, she knew he'd seen something to incriminate her. She knew, by the hammering of his heart, and the pattern of waves in his head, that her escape plan had been discovered.
And she had only herself to blame.
A sense of panic now began to poke away at her, and her thoughts started flowing in search of a solution. She had two options now. She could either ignore it, and pray to the heavens that she was wrong, and Dom hadn't searched her thoughts at all. Or she could accept that her instincts, and her senses, were correct, and bring her clandestine plot into the light.
She battled for a second, and Dom reappeared from behind his cup. Their eyes linked again, and both of their expressions had changed. Kira's leonine eyes were narrow and already pleading. Dom's expression was soft as the truth dawned. He couldn't hide it. He knew. Kira knew he did.
They sat for a second in silence, and their eyes shifted away. Yet Kira's peripheral vision was good enough to keep watch on the man, his brown bulbs clouding a little as they, too, considered his next steps.
It seemed a stalemate was on, neither willing to acknowledge what the other knew. And those short moments seemed to stretch on for hours, Kira's fate riding on the mind of the young man who'd brought her here to die.
Time was up, and she needed to act, to take a chance and appeal to the young man's good heart. She'd screwed this all, not only for herself, but for Merk, Gwyn, and Finn too. They'd put their trust in her, and she'd failed them, betrayed them with her inability to control her thoughts. She'd become too comfortable in Dom's presence.
She no longer saw him as her enemy.
"You know, don't you?" she asked. Her words cracked the silence open. Dom's eyes gently swivelled, turning to her.
He nodded, almost begrudgingly, as though he didn't want to accept the truth.
"Please don't blame the others," Kira said. "Don't blame Merk. I gave him no choice. I forced him to do it, in exchange for me saving his life. He was duty-bound to help. Don't punish him..."
Dom shook his head.
"I won't," he whispered softly. "And I understand it all. I place no blame on anyone. I had..." he drew a breath, hesitated, but went on. "I had considered helping you leave here anyway."
His words lit a fire in her. She leaned forward a little.
"You did?" she asked, her voice girlish, innocent. Her expression that of a helpless lamb, needing to be saved.
Dom smiled at her, unable to resist her charms. Or so she hoped.
"Rufus advised against it," he said. "It's...it's he who's set to carry out your execution tomorrow."
Kira frowned, her initial reaction that of hurt and confusion.
"I didn't know he felt that way. I thought..."
"He doesn't," Dom assured her. "He likes you, Kira. He wants you free from here too."
"Then why?" she asked, before realising she didn't require an answer. She nodded, her green eyes shading dark. "Your mother. This is her doing."
"It's all her doing," said Dom. "That's the only reason Rufus has advised against helping you. He believes I need to stand up against her, end her reign. He thinks that helping you will deny her this prize she so desires. And that will haunt all of us here. And perhaps the whole city too."
Kira listened, and her brief hope began to fade. Maybe Rufus was right. Maybe her leaving would doom many others to a terrible fate. Maybe...maybe she had to stay. To see her punishment fulfilled.
Dom was watching her again. He was reading her again. His heart was breaking again at what he saw.
"You're so brave," he whispered. "I've never met a girl like you, Kira. And here I am, just a coward, only now beginning to stand up to my mother when it may already be too late. I feel ashamed of myself." He gazed at her, and reached out
to touch her cheek. "How can I let you die," he said. "How can I live with that..."
Kira was now torn. Torn by saving herself, and saving others. It was a state she'd lived in her entire adult life. Each day for many years now she'd been willing to give up her life to ensure others survived. And though stolen from that world, she'd entered another. Unwillingly, yes, but her instincts remained. This city, like Haven, was sick, ruled by a despot even worse than what she knew. Could she leave, now, and let the city suffer? Could she continue this persuasion of Dom, knowing he might crumble, knowing that, if he did, the city's best chance of finding a saviour might crumble too.
And in that moment, she knew that this was about her. That the Empress cared only about seeing her killed. And that, if she gave herself up, she could at least save Merk, and Gwyn, and Finn. She could make sure Finn returned to his village to protect his people. She could get Gwyn back to her mother, and Merk back onto the sea.
If she accepted her fate, and died tomorrow on the sand, she could save her friends, and perhaps many others too.
So as Dom's fingers graced her skin, she reached up and took his hand. She felt the pulse of energy run through him, his heart skip a beat. She smiled and looked right to the depths of his luscious brown eyes.
"I'll die tomorrow," she said, no doubt now clouding her mind. "I see I have no choice in that now. But promise me, Dom, that you'll set my friends free. Promise me you won't punish them for this."
Dom's eyes were threatening to water. He blinked, and turned his gaze down as Kira's remained resolute.
"I...I can't do this. I can't have you die out there," he whispered.
Kira's grip on his fingers tightened.
"You have to," she said, her fate now accepted. "There's no other way, Dom. Set Gwyn and Finn free. Let them get clear of this place. Help them, and Merk, or just turn a blind eye to their escape. Your mother won't care so much about that, as long as she has me. I will give myself to her. I'm the prize she wants. Just help my friends, Dom." She drew his eyes up. "Help my friends, and help your city. Don't spare another thought for me."
She reached out now, letting go of his hand, and gripped his chin instead. She straightened his face up, right ahead of her, and drew him into a kiss. It was brief, firm, their lips melting into one before being stripped apart.
She pulled back, and smiled.
"Promise me, Dom. Release my friends before they have to fight again. Tell me you will."
Dom's eyes wavered, the taste of Kira's lips still on his. Yet there was no changing her mind now, and he knew, deep down, that she was right.
He'd kill his mother for this. He'd strangle her with his bare hands. He'd take the life from her, see it leaving her cold, dark eyes.
His thoughts seethed, and his face shaped into a grimace.
"Promise me, Dom," whispered Kira again, so calm now, so accepting. "I need to hear it. Say 'I promise'."
Dom's eyes worked to hers, linking for the final time.
He nodded, and said, "I promise."
And as he stood to leave, a tear built and left his face. And a darkness enveloped his heart.
77
The morning was the clearest, sunniest, most glorious of the long, hot summer.
The storm had now long gone, and had left behind a wondrous show of weather, as if guilty for what it had done over the previous two days. The puddles and flooded streets had been dried off by the smiling sunshine, and all over the city a flood of excitement took its place as the games looked set to finally resume.
The schedule had been arranged the previous night, and that morning the rumours were spreading. Kira, The Red Warrior, so popular among the people, was set to exit the games and see her life taken for a terrible crime she committed upon Master Lucius. She'd attacked him, blackened his eyes and broken his nose during an otherwise cordial visit. And now she was to be put to death.
The whisperings that morning fluttered across Eastside, the people quite aware of Empress Vesper's dislike for the red-headed girl from across the sea. They'd seen her face upon the screen as Kira dismantled Redmane, and all now suspected that any wrongdoing, any crime she'd committed against Lucius, had been set up or grossly exaggerated to guarantee her death upon the sand.
The excitement that swept through the air, therefore, was somewhat muted by this affair. When talk of The Red Warrior dominated any discussion, that discussion became gloomy and knowing. The people nodded to one another, quite sure of the treachery that had been going on behind the scenes. Their favourite gladiator was to be killed, and there was little anyone could do about it.
As the stadium began to fill that day, pockets appeared in the upper tiers, empty seats here and there that spoke of the city's chagrin. Some were making a stand, perhaps, unwilling to witness the execution. They may, perhaps, arrive later in the day, but would miss the early exchanges.
Yet there was something more at work, and it was the trouble in Southside that was to blame. The larger pockets of empty space in the cheap-seats of the upper tiers made clear the lacking importance of the games. Those caught up in the trouble, or else too frightened to leave their homes as it played out across the clustered lanes and alleys around them, had lost all interest in the warrior race.
It had acted as a distraction for many years, devised largely as a means of placating the masses. But now, across the Tiber, there was something far more important to concern them, and the Imperial Games were not enough to turn their heads any longer.
Within the stadium, Dom had taken his place. His face was cast in shadow, his muscles stiff and head heavy. He'd endured a long night of soul-searching, and had drunk to excess. The result was a grim figure, sitting to the left of the woman he would happily die in order to kill.
His thoughts were arranged in a horrible configuration that morning, as the time ticked closer to midday. He didn't look at his mother once in the eyes, though not in order to protect his thoughts from her psychic incursions.
No, he didn't care if she should look at him and see that he wanted her dead. She must have known it by that point, and by the framing of his body as he sat upon his chair, refusing to engage with any of the luminaries gathered within the box.
There were, in fact, only two people he'd inspected with anything more than a fleeting glance. One was Ares, who hovered near his mother, perpetual in his protection of the most terrible of women. Dom would have to devise a way of weakening her grip on him, of making him see the light. Yet already he was seeing the slight cracks appear, thin fissures of doubt that he might just be able to exploit.
But not today. Today, he'd sit, he'd grin and bear it. He'd shut his eyes when the time came, and not witness Kira's death. He wasn't willing to see her life stripped short, her beautiful face losing its vigour. He would turn away, and fixate on something else as the execution took place - revenge.
The other person to draw Dom's eye was Lucius. Some of his well practiced swagger had returned, after abandoning him entirely in the throne room the previous day. He did it to maintain a well manicured personality and character among the city's aristocrats, and to keep his spirits up in the face of his father, sitting in his usual place of prominence.
Lord Pontius' expression rarely dipped or changed. He was in complete control of his emotions, and so difficult for Dom to read. Yet Dom knew Lucius had an ingrained dislike for his father, for his refusal to respect him, and for what he had forced him to do so long ago. Lucius, perhaps, was redeemable. He was a slave to his father's rule, just as Dom was his mother's. And behind his swagger, so much self-doubt remained.
And for what was about to happen, Dom didn't hate him. He could spare none from the demon who greedily demanded it all.
The clock ticked on relentlessly. Dom sat, shaded from the sun, wishing to drown his mind in wine but refusing the urge. He needed to be sober in the days to come. The battles still set to fight required his full attention. Rufus had told him that.
So he drank water instead, and waited.
And down below, he knew Kira was preparing to spend her final moments in fear. She was alone down there, Dom's other fighters back at the ludus. No one to talk to. No one to tell her goodbye, or comfort her as the precipice drew near.
And though the thought sent a throb of grief through Dom, he didn't perhaps realise that it was just what she wanted. Kira had been a lone wolf for some time. And her death, when it came, was always set to be a lonely affair.
The cell was empty.
There were no weapons for Kira to choose from. No swords and scimitars, no throwing knives and spears. She was dressed in her red robes and armour, but nothing more. She would step out there, defenceless, and greet her punishment as only a warrior-girl like her could.
She sat on the bench, alone, and kept her thoughts steady. She was glad, in a way, that it would be Rufus to carry out the deed. She'd see her life end with a friendly face before her, a man she'd grown to like and respect, who she knew would take no pleasure from the act. Vesper, perhaps, had arranged it to try to make it worse. Maybe for Dom, it did, but not for her. She could think of nobody better to see her to the grave, to ensure that her death was as quick and painless as possible.
Her thoughts were steady, her eyes dry. She'd never get to see home again, but at least, by losing her life here, she might help protect others in this foreign land. Dom had made his promise to see Finn and Gwyn free, and old Merk too. If she had to die for them all to live, then that was about good enough for her.
She heard movement, footsteps close by. By the murmuring in the stadium above, she knew it was time. Two guards appeared, wandering from the side. They opened the gate and allowed her through. She didn't hesitate or wait for the call, but merely stood and began walking, knowing there was no point in delay.
She thought, as she walked, about her home once more. About Haven, her life there, her friends, and her war. They caused a slight waver in her, a pulse of grief to spread. She banished the thoughts that would only weaken her, and steadied her mind on the task at hand.