by RJ Metcalf
Holden waited until they were out of the mess and walking down the wide ramp before grinning at Raine like he was a used airship salesman. “Well. We finally get the She-Bear to join us. You’ll find we have the finer things in life here. Our work is essentially saline and rock salt production, and we enjoy the benefits that General Titus gives his highest fighters.” He rolled his eyes in the direction of Artemis’s studio. “But you’ll get to experience all that later. In the meantime, welcome to my level.”
“Hold up, boss,” one of the men sidling up next to Raine protested. “She should be initiated in.”
Ice shards prickled Raine’s lungs at the leer that all the men turned on her. All but Lynx. His jaw set, eyes narrowed. She lifted her hands as if she could ward off four burly fighting men by herself, when aching from her fight with Lynx and everything her body had experienced in the last day.
“No. That wasn’t part of the deal.” She struggled to put iron in her words, fear squeezing her throat. Not again. Her body was hers, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it be used by anyone else again. Doubly now, as they’d undoubtedly want her awake for whatever they’d do to her.
Lynx pushed past the one who’d spoken and came to Raine’s side, looming over her. His face was unreadable as he wrapped his arm possessively around her, pulling her against his blood-stained side. The sour scent of sweat washed over her, and she tried to not gag. He squeezed her closer and thumped his chest with a fist.
Holden’s eyebrows shot up and he crossed his arms. “You think she belongs to you, huh?”
Lynx nodded, and Raine tried to shrink away from him, but his grip tightened. He shot her a hard look. Lynx stared at Holden, moving only his left hand in what had to be prisoner sign—some garbled mess of slang and actual sign language. She angled herself just enough to try to make sense of what Lynx was saying, then shrank back, her palms sweating. While she didn’t want to be raped by Holden and all his goons, nor did she want to belong to Lynx.
Maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t had the idea of rising to the top through the pit fights. If she hadn’t, she never would’ve gotten in this situation.
Holden’s snort popped through Raine’s haze of regret. “Fine. Take her. But don’t kill her.” Greed curled the edge of Holden’s lips. “I expect her to earn us quite a bit of goods with her skill.”
Lynx turned, pulling Raine with him, his fingers gripping her upper arm tight enough that she was certain she’d have marks in the morning. His long strides made it difficult to keep pace as he all but jogged down the ramp to the chorus of Holden and his men’s knowing laughs. Nausea swam in Raine’s stomach with each footfall.
Lynx led her past the cells that lined the open shaft, cells just like the one she’d had down below. Cells that she desperately wished she could claim as hers, slamming the bars between her and all the men here.
He didn’t slow his break-neck pace as he entered into a cavern similar to the one that Simon and the others called home. This one had doorways with what looked like cells carved into the walls, a few of them even having dusty curtains covering the doors, giving a sense of privacy with each. Luminary crystals that held more charge than the ones down below lit the room, showcasing the wealth of pillows, blankets, a stack of books, and even a cask of what was likely water. But the rooms held her attention. They had no bars, but they were the closest thing to safety she could hope to achieve here. Hope and dread stuttered in Raine’s chest. Maybe, with time, she’d earn something like that for herself?
Lynx guided her to a cell in the corner of the room, and she stumbled as apprehension tightened the muscles in her legs. Lynx caught her and dragged her, his touch suddenly gentle, as if that would ease the panic choking her. He pushed her into the room and shut the curtain behind them, enveloping the room with a stifling darkness that matched the black terror in her heart. She curved her fingers into claws. He’d take her down in just seconds with his strength, but he’d have a memento first.
He let go of her, and the sudden loss of contact stunned her. She dropped into a crouch. “If you even think you’re going to have your way with me, let me tell—” A warm pinkish light flared into existence, and she blinked away the brightness.
Lynx’s room consisted of a narrow bed carved from the wall, a stack of four books, a single pillow, several blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed, and several changes of clothes against the wall. A bowl carved of salt held bandages, and a cistern of water sat next to it. Lynx stood by the doorway, his hands held up in a similar posture that she’d used earlier to ward off the unwanted advances of Holden and his goons. Concern etched a line across his brow, and a frown pulled at his lips.
Raine backed away, hating that the bed was behind her. What was he thinking? That if he showed kindness, that she’d be willing? He was wrong. Dead wrong.
Something akin to sympathy shone in his eyes and shook his head once, twisting his hands together and pointing to her.
Surprise rooted Raine to the floor and she blinked at him. So he actually knew sign. But that didn’t mean she’d simply trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt her. Lynx kept his gaze on her as he shifted from the door, sliding his back against the wall as he sat next to the closed curtain, still preventing her from leaving, but moving with the exaggerated slowness of someone trying not to spook an injured and frightened animal.
His hands moved again. “You know sign?” She nodded once and his expression somehow softened and simultaneously hardened. He moved his hands again. “You different. What happen?”
“I …” Raine backed into the wall opposite him, the bandage of her back cushioning the impact. Whales. She’d forgotten to have Artemis change it out earlier. She swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
“Yesterday morning,” Lynx pointed to his eyes, then her. “You had fire. Now gone. What happen?”
Kindness. It was kindness that oozed from the man sitting across the floor from her. And respect. She could see it in how he looked at her. Not like she was a piece of pretty (albeit dusty) flesh. Rather, like she was a person.
“Simon used me. He, he raped me.” Hearing her own voice, so small, so broken as she spoke the words aloud made the nightmare that much more real. She dropped her gaze to his white-covered boots. “And I don’t know how. But he did.”
In this one thing, she was grateful for being stuck in the Hollows: she’d never have to see Papa and tell him what happened. Anguish twisted in her heart, and she curled over, struggling to breath. She’d never have to tell Ben that she’d failed to use what he taught her, that she hadn’t had the time or the strength to fight off her attacker. That she hadn’t even had a chance, because her attacker was a coward who used a drug to get what he wanted but didn’t deserve.
She’d never have to face them with her shame, because she’d never see them again.
She trembled on the bed, overwhelmed with the grief, fighting to bury it deep down, where it wouldn’t bother her anytime soon.
Lynx didn’t move for a long minute before wiggling his foot to get her attention. Anger blazed in his eyes, though his expression stayed gentle. He pushed one fist over the other, then lifted his hand to his mouth.
She shrugged and cleared her throat from the thickness coating it. “I’d guess it was in the water.” The fear that had rooted in her nerves slowly receded as she talked. It was foolishness to trust him, but his pretending to care right now was the key to unlocking her armor. Hurt swam under her surface, and his quiet warmth provided a measure of comfort she’d never imagined possible from the champion. She glanced up, her voice hardening. “What are you in for?”
“Liar label me traitor.” Lynx’s expression twisted into the first flash of true anger that she’d witnessed. She scooted back as if she could melt into the wall in the face of it. He noticed and reined in his fierce scowl. “Outside. What happen?”
Raine’s words died in her mouth. Did he know she was Void Born? Had he heard the rumors about her in
regards to the barrier? She eyed him, and he watched her, eyes narrowed and yet open with the hope of news. He had to have heard all those things by now. It had spread like wildfire through the prison.
“The barrier is down,” she started. His jaw ticked and he nodded, gesturing for her to continue. “My group, we tried to stop it from being sabotaged, but we were too late. War is inevitable at this point.”
“What happen in Aerugo?”
“Aerugo?” Raine hesitated, trying to remember what was going on when she and Ben had left the city of Lucrum. “I heard a rumor when I was in Antius that Prince Weston was engaged to the Princess of Doldra, but her father was going to try to stop that.”
Lynx’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened in a show of surprise that was almost comical on the fighter. His jaw snapped shut and his brows furrowed in confusion. “Engagement? How happen?” He frowned in confusion and shook his hand like he was erasing the question. “Wait. Her father?” His signs slowed to enunciate each word. “Slate Stohner dead. Prince Brandon dead.”
Raine shook her head at his words, surprised at how easy this conversation was after all she’d been through. “No. Brandon’s alive.” She gave an awkward shrug. “He was traveling with us.” She almost said Ben’s name, but her throat closed in grief, and she changed the direction of her words. “Brandon left us to go back.”
Lynx stared at her. A thousand emotions flashed across his face, in his eyes, his posture. A single tear rolled down his cheek, creating a trail in the dust on his skin. “My prince, alive?”
Raine gawked. “Who are you?”
“Andre Catalina. Many year back, I bodyguard for Prince Brandon.” Lynx’s hands flew through the signs.
Prince Brandon’s bodyguard? It made since now, his fighting prowess, the dignity that Lynx wore like a second skin, how he never seemed to fit in with the brutes. Raine rubbed her cheek. Maybe, just maybe, switching levels was a good thing.
“I next work for Lord Everett, train Prince Weston, his bodyguard. I hid knowledge Jade princess. Everett angry. Send me here. Not allow me talk.” Lynx opened his mouth, and Raine understood why he never spoke.
It was hard to speak when one’s tongue was cut out.
Andre. Ben had mentioned him.
Hope was a little flame that threatened to snuff out with a single blow, but had the potential to grow into an inferno. But she wasn’t sure if he was the same man that Ben and Jade had known. “I’ve seen you fight. I know you’ve seen me fight. I surprised you out there, today. Somehow. How?”
“Where you learn sword fight?”
Raine frowned. “I had one sword master as a little girl who taught me. Then it was just whoever I could learn from as Papa and I moved.”
“Teacher name?”
“Master Vivone.” Raine watched as Lynx’s expression turned to something almost bittersweet. He nodded to himself, closing his eyes, a small smile softening the grief that aged his eyes. She cocked her head. “Did you know her?”
Lynx shook his head. “My … partner. In Doldra. Her teacher same. Vivone. I recognize same technique.” He gave her a genuine smile. “You, her, similar. I glad you lived.” He swept his hand in a circle, encompassing the room. “You stay here, with me. I not touch you. You sleep. I keep you safe.”
Raine tensed at that. She was exhausted, but she wasn’t ready to entirely relax her guard around him. Not yet.
As if he knew her thoughts, his smile dimmed to self-depreciating. “You same age, my niece. I protect your honor like I protect her. Promise.”
“I have no honor left,” Raine replied, the words bitter in her mouth. “It was stolen.”
Lynx’s hands started moving before she even finished speaking. “Stolen not same as given.” His eyes blazed. “You have honor.” He nodded, emphasizing his point. “And you strong. But warrior need sleep too. Tomorrow new day. Live for that.” He pointed to the pillow and blankets on the bed. “Use those. I stay here. Promise.”
Despite everything, she had to trust him. She couldn’t sit up much longer, now that the adrenaline had coursed from her system and bled into the floor along with her terror and concern. She was drained. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. She needed sleep, whether she wanted to agree with him or not. And he’d treated her well thus far, and if he was the same Andre that Ben spoke of, she’d be as safe as he claimed.
And if not, well, it’s not like she even had the energy to fight him right now.
She dragged herself up from the floor to the blanket laid out over the hard shelf of a bed and let herself drop onto it.
Lynx’s sympathetic smile was the last thing she saw before she passed out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christopher
Christopher shucked his rain-sodden coat off his shoulders and hung it on the coatrack by the front door of their safe house. He tossed his hat on the peg above his duster and turned to find Victor leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he watched Christopher.
Victor’s brow furrowed. “Back so soon?” He pointedly looked at the darkened window. “It’s barely eight.”
“Yes, and they dismissed half the servers for the night, because we have an early morning,” Christopher responded, exhaustion adding a bite to his words. “Brandon gave control of his military to Aerugo. No one else has followed his lead, but everyone is considering it.” He walked past Victor and to the fireplace, warming his frigid hands. He shivered as the heat chased the chill further into his system and away from his fingers. Prince Brandon’s speech this morning felt like a lifetime away, and yet it echoed in Christopher’s mind, like one of the wind-up records that Lord Sephirn had back home.
“Beneath my hatred for my circumstances and those who put me there, I cared for the lives I saw. My people will be among the first to suffer.”
Christopher didn’t necessarily hate his own circumstances, nor did he hate the Elph who held rank above him. He glanced at Victor from the corner of his eye, observing the Elph as he stared out the window, rain lashing ribbons of water against the glass. Victor had been better to him than Lucio, a fellow human. But Christopher had to admit, deep down, that the idea of freedom ached in his bones. Freedom to have a future beyond a soldiers’ life. To take Pamela, retire together. To find the orphans that were so much like himself, give them a home that didn’t require a trial of fire, blood, and death.
His heart twisted, thinking of all the new orphans that this war would cause. Like the child at Kelstone that the prince—no, king now—had protected. This was the aspect of war that Christopher hated the most. The innocent lives affected by those around them. It was good of the Doldran king to think and act as he was, putting his people’s safety first, but it wouldn’t be enough. They’d need help from the inside, insight into the Elph strategies and what Victor had planned if they were to stand a chance against the northern armies that the Antian Princess Abigail so feared. But such a wish was impossible. War, death, and slavery would spread, and now he couldn’t deny the churn of his stomach, the unease.
He’d brought down the barrier. Because he had orders, yes. And because he’d believed in the mission. But being on this side of the barrier, listening to the southern Elph and their concerns, the humans on this side, and their fears. It was tainting his perspective.
If only he could take it all back.
Christopher’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head, banishing the thoughts. Nothing good would come of his second guessing.
“Christopher.” Victor pivoted on his heel. Hatred danced in Victor’s dark eyes like black flames. “I have new orders.” Victor strode toward the hallway and barked out, “Pamela! Rachel!”
The sound of scrambling preceded both women hustling out of their room, Rachel being the only one dressed in work clothes, and Pamela padding out barefoot in her sleep shift. Both saluted.
Victor paced away from them, arms clasped behind his back. “I’m not going to let Everett keep control over more military might. That would be a detrime
nt to our goals.” His lips twisted in a soundless snarl. “And Jade has taken to that spawn of Everett’s too.” He turned and pointed to the women, then to Christopher. “Assassinate Everett, Weston, and Violet.”
Christopher’s arm tingled as he saluted, the heat of the fire washing over him, pushing away the ice in Victor’s voice. “Now, sir?”
Victor rolled his eyes. “Obviously. I’m not talking about next week.” He held up a copy of the newspaper that was now circulating the entire city like wildfire. “To have the entire Windsor family found killed right after my leak became public? If we play our tiles right, the other leaders may even blame Doldra for retribution.” He wiggled his fingers at Rachel and Pamela, the scar on his palm flashing briefly with the movement. “You two, go in as prostitutes. According to our dear, ever-so-helpful General Titus, Everett already has plans for tonight. Intercept and take their places. Everett and Weston have a weakness for flesh and that will make getting close far too easy for your skills, I’m sure.”
“Yes, sir.” The two chorused. They immediately turned back to their room, discussing their plan. Christopher watched them go, his jaw tight as he listened to them bantering over the sudden mission. This wouldn’t be the first time Pamela had been used like this for a job, but it didn’t make it any easier for him, knowing that to some degree, she would have to bed someone to kill them.
Rachel tugged out the braid in her hair as she walked, “Who do you want? The Lord or the Prince?”
Pamela’s laugh rang out in the hallway. “I know you’ve always wanted to bed a prince. You can take the easy mark.”
Victor waited for their voices to die down in their room before he ordered Christopher. “Do whatever you need to get to Violet, whatever you think will work. She’s smarter than her husband.”
“Yes, sir.”
Victor turned away, then spun on his heel and snapped his finger. “And get Kaius. We need to find out what he knows from what the Antians are planning, and he hasn’t come by yet.”