They’re gorgeous, so breathtaking in their savage beauty that tears sting my eyes. They could kill me without blinking. I sink down on the stone, propping my back against it, and slowly lower some of my mental defenses. On the ledge, the large black draken shifts, as he feels the brush of my mind.
That, more than anything, convinces me they’re psychic. I’m not as strong as Juhan, but I can test an animal’s psyche without them being aware of it—unless that creature is also psychic. I wait, holding my breath, until he relaxes again and then I lean my head back, wrapped in my jacket and their minds and try to sleep.
My eyes hurt when I drag myself from the draken’s cave. Kristoff is waiting, looking disgustingly well rested. He grins at my glare, and offers me a mug of coffee. It burns my tongue as I swallow but the jolt of energy is so welcome I can ignore a burnt tongue.
“How did it go?” Kristoff asks.
“They’re psychic,” I say, then bite my lip. It’s such a wild theory I’m not sure how he’ll react.
He frowns, a worried edge seeping into him. Behind me, in the tunnel, the burst of emotion makes one of the draken shift in its sleep. I pull him away from the cave, back toward the still sleeping jakta. “Did you Speak to them? Brielle, you can’t do that. Not until I’ve gotten this cleared by the Ja, and we aren’t there yet.”
I brush aside his words, and he stops, pushing me into the rock. My wings crush painfully and Kristoff stares at me, fiercely. “No. Listen to me. I can’t protect you from him if Catelyn or the others catch you speaking to anyone psychically. You screw this up, he’ll make you an example as bloody as the one he made with Kathryn.”
“Who was Kathryn?” I ask softly.
“Catelyn’s sister. A year older, and the Ja’s favorite. He had her slaughtered on the sands—it was worse than fodder. I won’t be responsible for that.”
I give him my best smile, forced past the sick feeling in my belly. “Didn’t realize you cared so much, Kristoff.”
“I don’t,” he snaps. “But I won’t be branded as a problem because you took too many liberties. I have my own problems. You can be a glad and die that way, or you can keep your thoughts to yourself, and we’ll keep trying this.”
He strides past me, and I stare for a long moment, furious. His psyche is thick with fear and anger. I should call to him, tell him I didn’t touch the draken’s minds, much less speak with them. Instead, I let him fume as we cross the jakta in silence broken only by the hissing of the geysers outside the walls, and a vulture screaming overhead.
I wonder what carrion it will feast on today.
When we reach our room, I’m in as bad a mood as Kristoff, and I stalk into the shower as he throws himself down on the bed. I can feel Jemes on the other side of the door, wondering and waiting—a touch of hope in him tells me he wants me to come to him, tell him where I’ve been. I want to tell him, a fact that scares me.
I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to need anyone.
“Brielle!”
I jerk as my name echoes across the sands, and my opponent—an Eleyi by the name of Lars—punches me in the side of the head, pulling the blow just a little. Spots blossom across my vision, and without hesitating, I lash out, catching his jaw with a vicious left hook that sends him sprawling on the sands.
Primus is watching me, and I turn to him. He’s blank—Primus is always blank. The only time I’ve ever felt a hint of emotion from him was when he fought Prator in an exhibition match before we began training the day after arriving. It was a vicious display that makes me queasy just thinking about.
“Prator wants to see you. Kristoff, escort your trainee,” Primus barks out.
I can feel the gazes of Others as I make my way off the bloody field. Kristoff is waiting, sweating from where he’s sparred with Kevan.
“What do you think it is?” I ask, and he shakes his head, his mouth pressed in a grim line.
The noise of the practice field fades as we head to the dining hall, circling to the back of it to the separate building I have not been inside. It’s a gorgeous structure, with lean classical lines and vibrant green vines climbing the columns. Juhan would love it.
A few slave girls are polishing a marble floor. I glance back and realize it’s real marble they’re kneeling on, not the synthetic substitute that most use. Another girl—a pretty one with downcast eyes—meets us.
“Follow me, sir,” she says, addressing the floor. I’m not sure how she sees Kristoff nod, or maybe she just assumes that we will. Either way, she turns gracefully and climbs a curving stair to a short hall. There are only two doors here, and she taps on the first. There is a soft murmur of voices, and then the door slides open.
I’m surprised to see Argot sitting on the edge of the desk. From the tension that fills Kristoff, he’s just as surprised.
“Ja Argot,” he says immediately, bowing a little. I mimic him, keeping my gaze on the ground. It’s safer that way. Not that being the object of Henri Argot’s attention is ever truly safe.
“Brielle has done surprisingly well, Kristoff,” Prator says and I risk a glance at him. He’s studying something on a tablet. They actually file reports on the trainees, documenting everything from our injuries to our matches. Henri is too mercenary to not know, in writing, who will make him the most money, and who is good for nothing more than fodder.
“She has, sir,” Kristoff says cautiously.
“Primus can’t decide if she’s glad material. And I’m wondering if she’d be good with the beasts or if she’s too savage. The report says she’s savage.”
“Is being savage a bad thing for a gladiator?” Kristoff counters and Argot laughs.
“Of course not. But she’s unpredictable.” He pauses, and I feel his gaze on me. It takes every ounce of self-control to not shudder. “What do you suggest we do, Kristoff?”
“Sir?” he asks, startled. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Catelyn says you have an idea, but she can’t get an image of what. You do have a plan for this slave, something more than simple gladiator fights. What is it?”
Kristoff lets out a frustrated breath, anger and betrayal filling his psyche. “I wanted to test it further before I brought it to you,” he mutters. Then he quickly outlines his mad plan, the one that has become less mad as I have gotten used to it. “She’s an Eleyi—she’s good working with the beasts, and it’s why you bought her. But she’s got enough fire for the gladiator ring. What if we did both? Mounted her on the draken so she was untouchable?”
Argot tilts his head, listening to Kristoff lay out his plan. “You think she’s strong enough to control the draken?”
Kristoff nods firmly. “I think so. I can’t say for sure; I haven’t had a chance to gauge her psychic ability for myself. But she’s strong, and I think she can handle the draken.”
“She cost me a good bit,” Argot says, casually. “If she dies, what of that?”
Kristoff is pale but resolute. “Take it from my emancipation.”
That gets Argot’s attention, and he narrows his eyes on my mentor, his mind a confusing blend of emotion. “You’re that confident in her?”
Kristoff nods and I feel a swell of appreciation mixing with my constant anger.
Argot is quiet for a long moment, and Prator shifts, watching me. “It’s not a bad idea, brother,” he murmurs. To me, he says, “Spread your wings.”
I do, knowing it’s not the best picture—my wings are dirty from sleeping on the draken’s floor, my clothes dingy from sweating on the sands, and a bruise is forming on my eye where I got hit an hour ago. But my wings open, and I almost gasp in relief as I spread them, the sensation so welcome, tears sting my eyes for a moment.
“Look at her,” Prator continues, his eyes hard. “She has a great figure, and she’s got that gorgeous white hair, those wings—put her on the big black. With her coloring, she’ll stand out like a diamond set on onyx.”
“Spectacle is expensive—is it worth the exp
ense?” Argot says, almost absently, watching Kristoff and me. I’m quiet and finally he nods. “Fine. We’ll try it. If she’s killed, it will cost everything you have, Kristoff. Are you prepared for that?”
He swallows hard, but nods. I wonder if he really is, and why he would risk something so important.
“I’ll talk to Primus. She needs to spend more time with the draken, and less on the sands,” Prator says.
“I want to continue training,” I blurt out, and all three look at me. It’s disconcerting, being the center of those heavy gazes. “I’m beginning to hold my own. If I’m going into the arena, I want to train.”
“You don’t decide what is best, Brielle,” Prator says sharply and I nod, dropping my gaze.
“I know. I just feel like it’s an opportunity—a backup, if you will. To further protect me in the arena. To protect your investment.”
Henri Argot stares at me, and it occurs to me suddenly that he is the dangerous one—Prator and Primus don’t matter, not when he’s staring at me with something I can’t read in his eyes. I am overly aware of the diamond at my throat, feeling it move with my breathing. But I don’t back down.
At long last, he shakes his head and a bolt of disappointment goes through me. “You’ll spend your time with the draken. When you have a handle on them, we can discuss returning to the sands. But for now, both of you should focus.”
Kristoff sketches a quick bow, and almost pulls me from the room as the brothers turn to talk of the upcoming games. I can feel the energy crackling off of Kristoff, and I plant my feet, struggling to keep him from pulling me along. I flare my wings, ignoring the pain screaming from the blunted tips.
“Stop it. What’s wrong?”
He sighs, running a hand over his hair. “Were you not back there with me? Didn’t you hear them?”
“Which part?” I snap.
He glares at me like I am an idiot and I touch his mind. Desperation, fury, hope and fear. “Argot painted me into a corner, Brielle. I couldn’t back down, not without looking like a fool and risking punishment. So he took his punishment in another form—my emancipation, if anything happens to you.”
“Why did you offer it?” I ask. I don’t want that weight on my shoulders, don’t want to disappoint someone else.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he answers, his voice dull. Then, softer, “Kevan is going to kill me.”
“You’re only at risk if something happens to me,” I say, shrugging as I start walking. “Nothing will. Those draken are psychic. I can handle them.”
He looks at me, doubt shading his eyes and souring his aura. I give him a tight smile and continue toward the training sands.
When I arrive, Petyr is being battered by Harris. I take my hurkya from Jemes, leaning against him, and nod at the pair. “Do you think he’ll ever start fighting?”
He shakes his head. “If he hasn’t yet, I highly doubt he ever will. Where were you?”
I glance at him, see the concern in his eyes. “Prator and Ja wanted me. To assess my potential.”
He twists, frowning. “I thought we had another few days before that?”
I grin, so false it makes my teeth hurt. “He makes exceptions for the truly talented.”
Jemes shoves me and I smirk. Primus shouts my name and I adjust my grip on my hurkya as I step on the sand. My whip hangs at my waist--the two weapons everyone has learned I prefer. Primus shakes his head. “Drop the hurkya, girl. You’re fighting with a pair of short blades today.” He tosses a set of daggers onto the sands, and I scoop them up, looking around.
“Jemes!” Primus shouts, and I sigh. This is only the third time I’ve had to fight Jemes, but both times were horrible. “Your weapon will be the net.”
Jemes steps toward it eagerly. He’s familiar with nets, a common tool on Sine, and I wonder if I have any chance to win this match. Maybe it’s best that I don’t. He lost our first two fights so spectacularly, it’s almost unfair to win again.
Not that I’ll throw the match.
The alarm screeches above us, and I slide to the side as Jemes throws the net in a glittering arch. It’s metal—my knives won’t cut me loose if he traps me. I clamp my wings tight to my back and wait as he gathers it in. I watch him tense, watch his eyes and test his emotion—nervous. No confidence. A heartbeat before he throws, I move, darting closer. The net sails over my head, and I lash out with the dagger, scoring lightly across his chest. It’s a bloody wound, but it’s shallow—nothing that will do lasting damage. But it’s first blood—a badge of honor and the first wound.
“First blood to Brielle!” Primus shouts and I grimace.
“Don’t beat me too bad,” Jemes mutters as I fall back, and I laugh at that. It startles me how happy I am—but this is the only time I forget Juhan’s absence. When I’m fighting.
He throws his net suddenly, catching me off guard, and I fall under the weight, the metal tangling around my legs. The more I fight, the tighter itwraps around me, and I’m suddenly back home, fighting a submerged net, screaming at my brother as slavers swarm closer. I panic and quit thinking, lashing out with my thoughts, screaming the one name that has always been synonymous with safety.
-Juhan!- I scream, and all around me, Eleyi flinch away, wide-eyed and afraid. Jemes’ knee is in my throat, and his voice is a soft and apologetic murmur under Primus yelling out the victor.
And a shrill whistle, a laughing Eleyi capering toward me.
Jemes stumbles back, and I push myself off the sands, meeting his suddenly confused look. “What did you do?” he whispers, terror in his voice, his mind. I feel my stomach twist, and I lean against him as I watch her.
“I screwed up.”
“Being in my office isn’t such an honor that you want to repeat it twice in one day,” Prator says, rubbing his eyes.
“She spoke. Spoke!” Catelyn says again, for what might be the hundredth time. I want to wrap my hands around her tiny neck and shake her until her wings rattle.
“Yes, dear, I did pick up on that,” Prator says dryly as he looks at me. “Do you want to explain to this bloodthirsty monster—and me—why you used psychic speech, knowing our rules?”
I don’t. I don’t want to share my brother with anyone here, much less Prator. But I don’t have a choice. “I was on the sands, fighting another slave—he was using a net and I got trapped in it.” I pause, force my tone to stay light. “When I was Taken, I was caught in a net. I wasn’t thinking—I panicked.”
“She called for someone!” Catelyn hisses and Prator gives her a hard look. Fuming, she subsides.
“Who?” he asks, and everything in me twists. I shake my head—I don’t want to answer, don’t want to give him my brother. His gaze is hard and pitiless, “I need to know. If you don’t want every Eleyi in the jakta punished, you’ll tell me.”
For a heartbeat, I consider letting it happen. The Eleyi are nothing to me—fodder who share a planet of origin. None of them even talk to me—I am too violent for my peace-loving fellows.
Then, I think of Juhan, and how disappointed he’d be if I were to sacrifice someone else for him. I answer. “My brother. My twin.”“
Prator’s eyes narrow and he straightens. “You have a brother here?”
“No, sir. He was sold to another at the same auction where Ja purchased me. I wasn’t thinking, and...” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”“
“Who purchased him?” Prator demands.
I glare, suddenly angry. “Does it matter?” I demand. “What difference does it make if it was a spoiled brat looking for a toy or a Ja looking for a gladiator? We’re still slaves.”
Prator stares at me, his gaze so cold I struggle not to shiver. “Yes. You are a slave.” His tone is thoughtful, so closed off I can get no sense of what he might be feeling. “You have been warned of the rules. And while I understand the reason you broke them, I can’t excuse it. You’ll be punished.” He taps a command into his tablet and looks at Catelyn. “Tell Primus to hold the slaves wh
en training is finished. She’ll receive ten lashes.”
She appears somewhat mollified and gives me a nasty, triumphant smile as she hurries out.
“Brielle.” I pause at the quiet command in his voice. He waits for the door to slide shut and stands, coming to stand close to me. “You need to be careful,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my skin. I shove down the urge to step away, to wipe the disgusting feeling away. “Catelyn doesn’t like you—she didn’t like you before Henri gave you to Kristoff. She’s vicious and feeling threatened. Quit putting me in a position where I have to punish you.” He touches my shoulder.
And now I do step away, and smile lightly. “It wasn’t my intention, sir.”
He watches me, and I feel the lust slip across his aura, so quickly I could ignore it if I chose. I wonder if he’s aware of the slip. A smile tilts his lips and I feel sick.
Of course he is.
“May I go?” I ask, hating the wobble in my voice.
Prator steps back, and I make my escape. But even in the harsh sunlight, I feel the heavy weight of his gaze and the intrusive presence of his desire.
Chapter 14
Juhan’tr
TIN DRAGS ME FROM bed while it’s still dark.
He throws a pair of loose pants and a tunic at me and groaning, I dress. There is a steaming carafe of coffee, and I pour a cup, dropping in a bit of nectar and cream before I sip it. Tin propels me out of my small room and down the hall. “First thing to start with is yoga.”
I swallow my protest—after last night, after the story Sadi shared, I feel like I should know how to protect her. And I could, right now, without training, I could protect her. But my psychic strength isn’t something I’m willing to flaunt. Not here.
Not for her.
For Chosi, I would. I would do anything for her—and that thought keeps me from balking completely. Because I am alone in a galaxy, a million miles from home, and my sister’s freedom is my responsibility. My vow. This may never help—but it certainly won’t hurt.
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 10