by Kelly A Nix
Sloan drives a powerful jab at Prince Truin’s face in the same instant that Trikk lashes out at his gut. In an impossible maneuver, Truin crouches low to dodge Sloan’s attack and block Trikk’s punch. Sloan responds by diverting his momentum into a double-fisted slam toward Truin’s head. Anticipating the adaption, the youngest heir grabs Trikk and pulls him into the path of Sloan’s strike as he rolls away from the colliding younglings. Sloan grimaces in sympathy when his fists slam against the side of Trikk’s face, and the royal guard crumbles.
“Oops. That’s got to hurt.”
Truin jumps to his feet and launches toward his preoccupied friend. Sloan spots the hybrid’s movement in his peripheral vision and twirls to block Truin’s powerful spin kick with both elbows, leaving his stomach vulnerable. The prince shows no mercy with a follow-up sidekick to Sloan’s gut. The older youngling groans but doesn’t succumb to the pain. Instead, he growls and takes his revenge with a kick to Truin’s head.
Knowing his friend’s temper, the prince anticipates the heedless attack and dodges. He dances under Sloan’s outreached leg and pops up next to the taller heir’s shoulder. Truin relishes the expectant victory as he swings his arm to strike Sloan across the neck and send him into unconsciousness. To the hybrid’s surprise, Sloan deflects the attack and slams his foot against Truin’s knee. Sloan smiles in satisfaction when the knee buckles with a loud crack, and Truin cries out. He stumbles to the ground and kneels on the only good knee remaining, then Sloan backhands him across the face.
“Looks like I’m winning,” Sloan says. He spits blood from his busted lips while one eye swells shut. He stares down at his friend’s bruised face and smirks at the blood gushing from Truin’s nose.
Snarling, Truin prepares for the inevitable follow-up punch and refuses to falter from his kneeling position. Sure enough, Sloan swings his second arm in a full arch with as much force as he can muster. At the last minute, Truin deflects the attack toward Sloan’s torso and leans outside the arc of the swing. Sloan’s arm collides with the prince’s defensive block enough so that the smaller heir can snatch the outside of Sloan’s attacking arm. Holding tight, Truin slams the palm of his free hand into Sloan’s elbow and smirks when the joint snaps. As Sloan cries out, Truin pulls him down and into his elbow jab. After a vengeful crunch from his friend’s nose, the royal youngling releases him.
“Who’s winning now?” Truin says. He snorts and wipes the dripping blood from his face. His exhaustive panting sprays red drops across the white floor, adding to the faint orange stains. From his kneeling position, Truin watches Sloan roll onto his back to stare up at him. The larger youngling tries not to move his injured arm while he rubs the blood from his nose and struggles to catch his breath.
“I’m willing to concede to a tie,” Sloan says. He flashes a bloody smile, and Truin chuckles. While the chatty heirs recover from their beatings, Schinn walks over to Trikk and kicks him awake.
“Are you still alive?”
Trikk groans as he regains consciousness. Facedown on the ground, he takes a moment to gather his senses before rolling over to a sitting position. Trikk touches the side of his face that Sloan damaged, assessing the damage.
“Who won?” He asks.
“Not you,” Sloan says.
“Thanks to you.” Trikk swivels his head around and grimaces from the pain of it. Sloan chuckles at his comrade’s discomfort and can’t help but jeer him further.
“I bet that hurts.”
Trikk glares at him but doesn’t bother responding. He learned long ago that feeding into Sloan’s games only results in more aggravation.
“It’s a tie,” Schinn says.
“Again?” Trikk presses his lips together at Prince Truin. “There are no ties in the Gridiron. Only victory or death.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t in the Gridiron,” Sloan says.
Schinn shakes his head and frowns at Sloan before offering a helping hand to his fellow guard. Trikk accepts and climbs to his feet. Moments later, Prince Truin leans against Trikk as he stands on one leg. Sitting up, Sloan twists and pulls at his injured arm until the elbow joint pops back into place. The room echoes with the dark heir’s grunts of pain.
“What’s the latest on Blue?” Truin asks Schinn. Sloan jerks his head up with interest.
“The other day, we may have had a breakthrough,” Schinn says. “But it’s still hard to tell whether she’s going to keep it together through the Tournament.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Truin spins to face Sloan. “You said she would be an asset. So far, she’s been more trouble than she’s worth.”
“She and Jeqi are the top fighters at Sula Academy. I might be able to take them one-on-one. But put them together, and there’s no competition. And that’s before Atae could shift. Once she gets that under control, they’ll be unstoppable. You want their help.”
“If she can get it under control,” Schinn says. “I’m not sure she can, definitely not by next week’s round.”
“Just get her through the tournament,” Sloan says. “Then you’ll have six months to work out the kinks before the Gridiron.”
“Solum should work with her after the tournament. He’ll be able to reach her in ways that I can’t.”
“No,” Truin says. “Mother said that Solum’s looking for a reason to pull her from the Gridiron. I’m tempted to let him.”
“You should. She’s unpredictable.” Schinn jerks a hand through the air in front of him. “Atae is far more skilled in combat than I would have ever guessed. But between battles, she’s easily distracted and emotional.”
“Distracted by you, maybe,” Sloan says.
“What of her beast?” Truin asks. He glances at the entrance of the room where Marqee shuffles in to join them. Sloan lifts his uninjured arm as a silent greeting.
“Her beast is a distraction at all times.” Schinn shakes his head. “She’s getting better, but I’m surprised no one has noticed.”
“Is that why she keeps zoning out?” Sloan asks. “Sometimes, even in the middle of a conversation.”
“Yes.” Schinn nods. “We only have to deal with our beasts’ urges and emotions. She has to deal with that, plus conversations with her.”
“I take it we are talking about Atae?” Marqee asks as he joins the group. He motions to Sloan’s injuries. “Looks like I missed a fun scrap.”
“Where have you been?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment.” Marqee smiles as his dimples crinkle across his cheeks. “Is she getting any better at controlling her shift? She almost took Sloan’s hand off the other day.”
“A little,” Schinn says. “Maybe.”
“Well, what’s the deal? You said if Atae submitted to Sloan and accepted him as alpha, he would be able to subdue her beast,” Marqee says. “When he tried that, she shrugged him off like he was nothing. I’ve never seen another Kaji not respond to Sloan’s beast like that. He’s way too scary to ignore.”
“Yeah, it just seemed to piss her off and make things worse,” Sloan says.
“It’s because both she and her Beast are extremely dominant. That was our breakthrough today. Until she can prove to her beast that she is stronger, they are going to keep fighting each other,” Schinn says.
“Again, this seems like a lot of work for one little hybrid,” Truin says. Schinn throws his hands out toward the prince, imploring him to listen.
“We don’t need her. If we let her enter the Gridiron with an uncontrolled beast, we will get her killed. She deserves better than that.”
“We’re not doing anything that she hasn’t asked for. She wants to fight in the tournament and the Gridiron. We’re merely helping her do it,” Marqee says.
“What she wants isn’t necessarily what’s good for her,” Schinn says. Sloan snatches the silver heir’s collar and jerks him close with a growl.
“Atae and Jeqi are the best fighters at Sula Academy and deserve a chance to fight at Prince Truin’s side. We n
eed them as much as they need us.”
“Even if that chance gets Atae killed?” Schinn asks. He pulls free of the dark heir’s grasp and averts his gaze.
“Sloan’s right,” Marqee says. “We need all the help we can get, and Atae and Jeqi are very good. More importantly, they’re loyal to Prince Truin.”
“What do you mean?” Truin asks.
“I guess none of you’ve been on KIC lately,” Marqee says. Sloan shrugs and twists his lips into a sneer.
“Why would we? We all have lives.”
“Well, let me show you one of the empire’s top ten most popular channels as of last week.”
Marqee hustles to a small control panel hidden in the wall next to the room entrance. After using his visor to select a few options, the room dims, then a giant hologram forms around the younglings. Truin, Trikk, and Schinn wait in silence for Marqee to rejoin them, while Sloan makes impatient noises and grumbles at his slow packmate. Marqee tries to ignore him but can’t help an amused glance as he passes. The hologram displays a list of channels available for selection. The dimpled male searches for a moment then selects the Skiska and Frack channel.
“Ugh, the gossip channel? Just kill me now,” Sloan says. Schinn glances at him as though considering his request. Sloan arches a daring eyebrow, and the silver heir swivels back to the materializing hologram.
“This is a clip from yesterday’s upload,” Marqee says.
Skiska and Frack appear in large boxes for everyone to see. Only their faces and torsos are visible to the camera, and they bicker back and forth without shame. Frack flails his arms about to accentuate his claims, and his wild, silver hair adds to his hyperbole. Next to him, Skiska’s calm, round face and short, red hair seem tame. Frack’s deep-seated eyes widen with excitement as he finishes his latest rant.
“I’m telling you that the Royal Gridiron will be the most horrific one in Kaji history!”
“I think you might be right about that, Frack,” Skiska says.
“The Royal Gridiron?” Schinn asks. Marqee pauses the recording long enough to answer.
“That’s what they’re calling Truin’s Gridiron.”
“Well, it makes sense. I mean, your loving mother did turn it into a giant Royal Brawl, complete with defenders and challengers. Too bad, the challengers are going to outnumber the defenders by like a million to one,” Sloan says to Truin.
“Well, aren’t you a ball of starlight today,” Marqee says. “You’ve been in a bad mood since Atae skipped your sword match in favor of session with Schinn yesterday.”
“Pff, like I care,” Sloan shrugs. “It’s just that she is awful at swordplay, and we were finally making some progress. She’s got the memory of an insect. You miss one session, and it’s back to square one.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be at today’s lesson.”
“Good.” Sloan turns back to the hologram, ignoring Marqee’s amused grin and Schinn’s suspicious frown.
“And I think today’s guest will also agree,” Skiska says when the recorded hologram continues. “Please welcome Royce, an heir to the Levia crest.”
Royce’s sharp features and shoulder-length, silver, and red hair assembles inside a holographic box separate from Skiska and Frack. Her voice is smooth and slips from her dark lips like music as she offers a charming smile
“Thank you for having me. I’ve always admired your channel and passion for truth. It’s rare in today’s society, Sula’s society.”
“Sula’s society? We’ve heard that term quite a bit recently. Specifically, since Prince Truin’s pledging ceremony, at which he announced the Royal Gridiron. What does it mean?” Skiska asks Royce. Frack interrupts with his loud opinion.
“I can tell you what it means. They’re talking about this strange peace with the Camille. No one trusts it.”
“Well, not quite, Frack. But I like your enthusiasm,” Royce says. Her chuckle makes Sloan’s skin crawl. “Sula’s society refers to this unnatural integration that she’s forced upon the Kaji. Yes, our economy has benefited, and our ties to our allies are stronger than ever. But it’s at the expense of our society and culture.”
“Are you claiming that the Kaji are changing?” Skiska asks.
“Yes, little by little. I believe that if we continue Sula’s society as it is now, generation by generation, the Kaji will grow soft and weak. Look at the number of hybrids among my younger brother’s class at Sula Academy.”
Sloan growls and clenches his fists. His sister tilts her head upward and stares at the audience with her silver gaze on fire.
“For the first time in history, Planet Kaji’s latest generation consists of just as many hybrids as purebred Kaji. If something isn’t done, you’ll see the same thing throughout the empire.”
“Exactly. It’s not right, I tell you,” Frack says. “These hybrids will claim citizenship in the Gridiron and start demanding the Kaji change to accommodate their non-Kaji halves. The Setunn especially. Those religious zealots are already making noises. What happens when the Faithful show up and want to compete for citizenship?”
“Well, that’s definitely a frightening thought. But aren’t you being a little harsh on the hybrids? If they are strong enough to earn citizenship, don’t they deserve a voice?” Skiska says. She eyes Royce with a dubious frown, but the silver heir’s charms break down the co-host’s defenses.
“Skiska, ever the voice of reason. I was hoping you’d ask that question. The hybrids are inherently weaker than the purebred Kaji. A few have slipped through the Gridiron, not because they are strong, but because we have allowed them to live. We forgot the threat they pose against our society. We allowed them to live as babes, and now they’ve grown into parasites that slowly destroy the Kajian way of life. My generation must step forward and accept the heavy mantle that our elders failed to bare. We must purge the Gridiron of hybrids. No more will gain citizenship. No more will gain a voice in our empire. Not a drop of tainted Kaji blood, Ru-Kai or not, will walk away unharmed. Only the pure will survive. Together, we can destroy Sula’s society and rebuild the empire to its former glory.”
Marqee pauses the recording with Royce’s face twisted into a maniacal grin. All five younglings gape at the giant hologram while the shock of her words sinks deep.
“My sister…” Sloan says. “That malicious bitch has lost her mind.”
“Sane or not, she’s gaining a lot of support. You won’t be the only target in the Gridiron,” Marqee says.
“You mean the Royal Gridiron?” Truin says.
“Shouldn’t we speak out against her?” Schinn asks. “Try to garner our own support?”
“No.” Trikk speaks for the first time in a while, and everyone stops to listen. “We cannot stop her from speaking. We cannot stop her from gathering supporters. We can only prepare. Because in six months, we must stop her from taking the throne.”
“No pressure, though,” Sloan says to Truin. The prince snorts at the dark heir and shakes his head. Trikk stares at Truin with a stern expression, and the royal heir stands straighter under his guard’s expectant eye.
“You are Ru-Kai. You have the support of an empire if you can prove yourself worthy. Destroying Royce and all of her followers in the Royal Gridiron might just do it.”
“If not, it’ll be one badass way to die,” Sloan says with a crooked smile.
Chapter 35
This time when Atae and Jeqi arrive at their assigned position within the tournament arena, Marqee and Sloan are waiting for them. Marqee flashes his dimpled smile at Jeqi, and she returns it with a small blush before looking over the arena. Atae is too distracted by Beast’s flight-or-fight urges to notice the exchange. When, what feels like, the millionth wave of adrenaline and anxiety blasts through her psyche, Atae groans and rubs her eyes in frustration. She follows Jeqi up the small dirt ramp that leads to their translucent energy dome, where both Marqee and Sloan wait. As always, the moment they step through the energy field, the cameras activate, an
d Atae feels like an insect under a magnifying glass.
“You look like you need to meditate some more,” Sloan says.
“You know what? I think you’re right,” Atae says. “I’m going to stand way over there, so you stay here and practice the art of silence.”
Atae shuffles over to the edge of the dome, but instead of closing her eyes to meditate, she examines the arena. Thirty energy ramps lead to base camps that carve into the arena walls. Outside the bases, the dirt and gravel floor dips into a giant bowl-like valley with the white energy platform from round two at its epicenter. At the top of a massive pile of rock and dirt, the platform towers above the rest of the arena like a glowing lighthouse. Atae wonders what part the energy disc will play in this round.
Atae asks Beast to assess their competition as each base fills with its assigned pack. She complies, happy to keep an eye on their enemies. With Beast distracted, Atae takes a deep breath and revels in her reprieve from her counterpart’s never-ending pressure. She mulls over everything she’s learned about Beast over the past several days.
How can I prove to you that I’m strong enough to protect us? she asks.
You cannot because you are not. I am strong. I am Kaji.
I got us through that maze, even when you were trying to get us killed. I’m the reason we made it through.
Lies, Beast says. She slaps Atae’s mind with a red whip. I kept us alive. Jeqi helped more than you.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Without our packmate, you would have failed. We would have died.
Atae snorts at Beast’s melodramatic statement. No one died in either round of the tournament. But is she right about Jeqi? Is Atae leaning on the blonde too much? Jeqi has been an excellent packmate since Beast’s appearance. Even before that, she was there to comfort Atae in the wake of Kandorq’s attack. Jeqi has always been a good friend. But maybe that’s the point. Perhaps it’s time for Atae to stand on her own, at least long enough for her to show Beast that she can. Atae swivels to watch her makeshift pack and finds them chatting about last night’s hilt session between Sloan and Atae.