by Kelly A Nix
Maybe, I do need her help.
“I swear it’s true,” a muffled male voice says, followed by a light female voice.
“There is no way. Queen Sula would never do that.”
Atae lifts her head at the intrusion of unfamiliar voices. Jeqi steps around her comrade to investigate one of the tiny beams of light that shines through a small hole in the grimy stone wall.
“Maybe I should enter the Gridiron and defeat the prince,” the male voice says.
“It’s two servants in the kitchen. They’re alone,” Jeqi whispers.
“Then, you’d be king,” the female says. Atae cringes at the servant’s high-pitched giggle, but the male seems to enjoy the sound.
“And you’d be my queen,” he says.
Jeqi’s eyes widen when the female giggles again. The hybrid spins away from the two lovers and blushes.
“Oh, uh,” she says. “We should keep moving.”
Jeqi shuffles away from the wall, expecting her packmate to follow. Instead, Atae glances at the tiny hole in confusion.
“Why? What are they doing?” she asks. “If they’re plotting against Prince Truin, we should find out as much as we can.”
“I don’t think they are plotting anything.” She bites back a chuckle when Atae peeks through the hole for confirmation.
“Nope, definitely not.” Atae hurries away from the peep show, and in her haste, she bumps against a hidden switch on the far wall. The two hybrids watch in horror as a section of the kitchen’s stone wall slides open between them. Thankfully, decorative curtains hide the sudden gap, but the noise captures the servants’ attention.
“Did you hear something?” asks the female.
“Just the thumping of my heart, my dear,” the male says.
“What did you do? What did you touch?” Jeqi asks. She darts across the far wall, searching for the switch to close the hidden door, and Atae rushes to help her.
“I don’t know,” she says with a curse. “We can’t let them find us. They’ll think we’re peepers.”
“You think?” Jeqi says. She squeaks in triumph when she finds the switch and activates the door.
“There it is, again. I’m telling you I heard something.”
“It’s probably just some rodents. I often hear them running along the walls. I’m certain the palace is overrun with them. Now, where were we?”
The two hybrids hustle along as the muffled sounds of passion grow louder. Atae struggles along the dark path, and amused by her blind stumbling, Jeqi follows a few steps behind. Catching the chuckle from her packmate as she trips down a few unseen steps, Atae huffs.
“You know, you could lead the way. You’re the one with night vision.”
“I don’t think so. I’m enjoying myself too much. Besides, you owe me.”
“I told you. Sloan’s shifting was not my fault. Argh.” Atae stumbles to her knees against several ascending steps, and Jeqi glides past her.
“That’s not what I meant, but yes, it was,” Jeqi says. She doesn’t hide her amusement as she stops to wait for Atae to recover. Atae remains on the ground, leaning against the steps, and stares up at the blonde.
“How is it my fault that he can’t control his anger? A warrior is always clear-headed and doesn’t let frivolous emotions, like anger, cloud his judgment. He knows that.”
“His anger pushed his change to the edge, but it was your fear that released it.”
“My fear? But he was already shifting. And I wasn’t afraid of him.”
“You could have fooled me.” Jeqi frowns at her friend. “One moment, you were arguing with him like you always do, and the next, you’re scrambling away, like frightened prey. A lot of young Kaji have trouble controlling their shifts at times. Even Prince Truin had trouble yesterday when you angered him, but Sloan kept his shift in check until you became prey. What happened to you? I could smell your fear from across the room. Everyone could.”
Shame washes over Atae as she remembers the way Sloan’s eyes shifted to red and the icy fear that raced down her spine. She wasn’t afraid of Sloan. Atae knows that, but she was…is afraid of Kandorq. In that instant, Atae’s mind saw Kandorq’s sick, red eyes glowing with a predator’s need to hunt. And Atae reacted just like prey. Scared, weak prey.
“I wasn’t afraid of Sloan.” Atae sighs and climbs to her feet, wiping the dirt and cobwebs from her royal attire. When Jeqi tries to argue, Atae cuts her off. “I’m not afraid of Sloan or other battle beasts. I’m afraid of Kandorq and that damn Setunn.”
“I don’t understand. What do they have to do with this?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Atae stares down the dark path. “Maybe, it’s like this hall. I’m just struggling to get through to the other side, where I know there is an end to it. I know that, with time, I’ll get there. I know that when I do, it’ll be lighted, and I won’t be alone. I won’t be scared anymore. It’ll be like it was before, maybe even better. And to get there, I have to keep moving, but these damn steps and cracks keep pulling me down.”
Atae peeks at Jeqi, imploring her to understand, but she knows it isn’t possible. Atae wraps her arms around herself, squeezing tightly, as she whispers through the blackness and reveals the fear that plagues her mind.
“These memories or flashbacks, whatever you want to call them, it’s like I’m there, like I never left. Like this is a dream, and I keep waking up in that forest with him breathing down my neck and her stalking me. I just want it to stop, to end. I know it will eventually. I know that if I hold on long enough, I’ll heal. I’ll be back to normal. I just have to keep fighting.”
Jeqi watches her friend grapple with an internal enemy as Atae’s gray uniform, smudged with dirt and cobwebs, clings to her thin form. A stale breeze twirls the short, blue locks that frame the small hybrid’s frowning face. Her fuchsia eyes swirl with fear and shame, but Jeqi also sees just a hint of hope in Atae’s gaze. Hope that Jeqi can save her from the monsters in the dark. Looking at Atae now, most would see a scared youngling clinging to herself and unfit to wear the royal attire she dons. Jeqi sees a young female with the potential to influence the universe if only she could find her way out of this dark place.
Jeqi slips a hand over Atae’s upper arm and guides her through the dark path. She leads the blue hybrid up the steps and around the obstacles. After a few steps, Atae grabs Jeqi’s hand and clings to it, grateful for her packmate’s help. The blonde’s soft, silver tail wraps around Atae’s clinging arm, and she finds comfort in the loving embrace. They walk in silence until they see a light, shining at the far end of the path. Jeqi glances back at Atae with a teasing smile.
“You still owe me.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the throne room, and in front of all the heirs, you opened your big mouth.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I did kind of pledge our lives to the prince,” Atae says. She recollects Jeqi’s fury and Solum’s bafflement. “But weren’t you already planning to help Prince Truin in the Gridiron?”
“Of course I was. I just wasn’t planning on telling everyone where I stand on the matter. It’s called strategy.”
“Oh, we should probably talk about that.”
“Obviously,” Jeqi says. She grumbles at her packmate’s oblivious nature.
“Hey, how can you expect me to know these types of things? I’m a warrior, not a politician.”
“Shh.” Jeqi pauses to listen to a soft song echoing down the passageway. Neither hybrid understands the lyrics, but the sad voice reverberates into their souls. Atae sneaks closer to the source of the familiar voice only to have Jeqi grab her arm.
“Stop, it’s the queen.”
“I know.” Atae tugs her arm free. Both girls tread forward until the voice is right outside the wall. Luckily, several small beams of light reveal holes for the younglings to peer into the room.
Atae first spots the white, stone coffin carved into a warrior’s likeness, and then she notices the chamber walls, covered
in jeweled depictions of the warrior’s life from birth to death. One, in particular, catches Atae’s eye. It’s an image of the warrior fighting and losing to a horde of Gortox while a green-eyed, Kajian female escapes the battle. Atae remembers the story of a mighty warrior who fought off ten of the massive and grotesque creatures but later died of his wounds.
King Uta.
Atae’s eyes widen as they fall upon her mourning queen. Solis’ and Cerule’s light flickers through the crystal ceiling and glistens off the disturbed dust particles that float around Queen Sula. She stands at the foot of her mate’s tomb with a hand grazing the edge. Her eyes are downcast to his muscular form, carved into the coffin. Dirty and covered in cobwebs from the hidden path, Sula’s red and white hair hangs lifeless around her angular face. The red bodysuit that once hugged her strong form now bunches around her hunched body.
She doesn’t move from her slumped position when Solum slips into the crypt. The royal advisor grimaces at his intrusion and bows his head at his late king’s stone depiction.
“Why are you here? Why do you disturb me?” Sula asks. She scrunches her face, almost pleading for Solum to go away. He doesn’t answer but waits in silence for his queen. Atae watches her with a furrowed brow. How can this be the same warrior that stood defiant and strong in front of her people just a short while ago?
Why does she seem so defeated?
The moment the thought crosses Atae’s mind, Queen Sula lifts a longing gaze from her mate and settles a hardened stare onto Solum.
Not defeated then, just resting. Atae admonishes herself for ever doubting her queen, even for a moment.
Solum refuses to glance around the crypt at the images of his friend’s life, especially avoiding the green-eyed female in the last scene. Instead, he watches his queen slide to the head of King Uta’s tomb and run her hand over the carved depiction with nimble fingers. She caresses the side of his face and manages a tight smile at the memory of her lost mate.
“He was a strong warrior. He was courageous and stubborn and convinced of his own greatness. So much like our son. I know Truin will be a great warrior and leader one day. Not today, but someday. If he survives long enough.” Her voice cracks as she says the last few words. The fear of losing her child swirls in her amber eyes, and Solum can relate. But he knows who to blame for their current predicament.
“You’ve just ensured that he won’t,” Solum says. Sula gathers her senses and ignores the blush of embarrassment across her cheeks. Showing such weakness in front of anyone, even Solum, was a mistake. He watches her glare at him from across the room, but he refuses to back down.
“You’ve turned his Gridiron into a Royal Brawl. Now, it’s not just the crests that we have to worry about usurping the throne. It’s every citizen of the empire.”
“Yes.”
“The chances of him surviving are nil, never mind proving himself.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Solum growls and surges toward her with his arms thrashing out with each word. “Was it your intention to kill off your only son and the last remaining Ru-Kai? Another crest wiped out of existence? Is that what you want?”
“Enough,” she says. “I’ve ensured that whoever survives my son’s Gridiron will be the strongest warriors the Kaji have ever produced.”
“And if your son isn’t one of them?”
Queen Sula flinches away from Solum as though struck by his words. With her back to him, she raises a fist above her head, and it shakes from the emotions raging against her control. As though coming to terms with the consequences of her decision, Queen Sula lowers her unsteady hand onto her mate’s tomb and speaks in a firm tone.
“Then he is not fit to rule.”
“You’re sending him into certain death and condemning him when he can’t change fate,” Solum says.
“The Kaji don’t believe in fate. We aren’t the Setunn,” Queen Sula says. She flashes a melancholy grin. “We don’t believe in an afterlife, either. Yet, I still pray to Uta when I need guidance.”
“Did you pray to him when you decided to kill his child?”
“Watch your tongue, Solum. I am still your queen.”
“For now. What happens when your son dies in the Gridiron? If the Ru-Kai aren’t fit to rule, who is?”
“Whoever is strong enough to…to defeat him.”
“To kill him, you mean?”
“Yes,” Sula grimaces, “to kill him.”
“And Atae? What of her in your plans? Are you willing to sacrifice my daughter as well?” Solum steps back to distance himself from the impending answer, and Sula snarls.
“Careful, Solum. You’re treading on thin ice.”
“She’s chosen to stand by Prince Truin’s side in his Gridiron. Because of you, it will be a massacre. And knowing her, she’ll be running to the front line. How does your master plan work if she’s dead?”
“She has to be strong.” Sula slams both fists into the tomb. “They all have to be strong. Stronger than we are. Smarter than we are. They can’t make the same mistakes.”
“What do you mean, Sula? What are you not telling me?” Solum asks. He searches her gaze from across the room, but she reveals nothing to him. Sula lifts her hands from the stonework and smooths her outfit as she regains her composure.
“I am your queen, Solum. There are many things I keep from you. But understand this. I will always choose the Kaji. There is nothing I won’t sacrifice for my people.”
Solum stares at her as his loyalties collide. The surge of pride that swells within his chest at her proclamation is overwhelming. Every ruler should be this dedicated to their people. But at the same time, the pit in his stomach turns acidic. What kind of parent would sacrifice their offspring?
“What about Truin? And Atae?”
“That’s your task, of course. Don’t you remember?”
The cold stare from his queen reminds him of the night she called him to the throne room. The secrets she shared with him and the plans they devised; he remembers every detail. He remembers the task she set upon him. But how can he accomplish anything against these odds?
“I can’t save Prince Truin from this, and I’ve given my word that Atae could choose her Gridiron.”
“Now, I guess you have a choice too. Your honor or your daughter’s life?” She doesn’t bother hiding her humorless smile as she crosses her arms over her chest. He grinds his teeth at her dig but doesn’t take the bait.
“Neither. I choose to make sure Atae survives this shit storm you’ve created. I will do everything in my power to prepare her. I expect you to take her training with you seriously.”
“Of course, as long as you do the same with my son,” Sula says with a reassuring nod. “For your sake, I hope she gives you a reason to deny her entry. Your daughter’s quite impulsive, so maybe something will come up in the next six months. Maybe she’ll lose the tournament. Then it’s a moot point.”
Solum shakes his head, unable to find humor in her comment. “No, she’s far too skilled to lose. The tournament is just a formality.”
Queen Sula watches him salute her and turn to leave. She’s already returning her gaze to the king’s tomb and contemplating her recent decisions when Solum spins back to face her.
“You’re taking a big gamble here, Sula.”
“I know,” she says. “But the Kaji will be better for it. And so will our younglings.”
With a frustrated sigh, Solum storms out of the tomb. His mind reverberates with one haunting thought:
“If they survive.”
Atae watches her father leave and struggles with the emotions battling within her. She doesn’t understand how Solum can be so confident of her failure in the Gridiron.
At least he has more faith in me for the tournament.
Jeqi tugs her along the path toward the exit and away from King Uta’s tomb. As soon as they are far enough to avoid detection, Jeqi glances over her shoulder to Atae.
“You have to figure ou
t how to control your shift before round two,” she says. “If the cameras catch you shifting, it’ll be the perfect excuse to pull you from the tournament and the Gridiron. We have to compete with Prince Truin, or we won’t be chosen as royal companions.”
“More importantly, Prince Truin won’t have anyone to protect him if we aren’t there,” Atae says.
“Right. Any ideas on how to master your new skill?”
Atae considers the question as she follows Jeqi toward the light at the end of the path. It doesn’t take long to remember her recent run-in with Schinn.
“About that…”
Chapter 27
“I told you this wouldn’t work,” Atae says. She sidesteps Jeqi’s latest attack and falls into a squared defensive stance. She holds her arms up to guard her face and chest, watching Jeqi for offensive signs. The blonde hesitates only an instant before rounding her strike toward Atae’s new position with a feinted backhand to her face, followed by a real jab to the ribs.
“Why not? If you shift, you could easily beat me.” Jeqi says. Her blows glance off Atae’s forearm then an elbow. The Setunn hybrid follows up with a sidekick to her opponent’s unguarded midsection, knocking the wind from Atae’s lungs.
“Ugh!”
Furious for letting the attack breach her defenses, the blue hybrid growls at Jeqi’s smug expression and bouncing stance. The blonde waves her hands to taunt her packmate into attacking. Atae grinds her teeth, switches into an offensive position, and braces her legs for a charge. In the instant it takes for Atae to decide on her plan of attack and reposition, a sharp pain spears her arms and legs like an electric shock then disperses. Taught to block out superficial pain in the heat of battle, Atae barely registers the sharp pinch. She launches at Jeqi with a vicious roar as the muscles in her legs propel her body with such force and speed that Jeqi is caught off guard. The momentum of Atae’s attack, combined with the powerful punch, sends Jeqi flying backward onto her rear with a crushed nose.