Tomorrow, it will end. It has to. I won’t let Prator kill him for sharing my bed.
“Can Miwya handle a phalanx?” He asks the question that has been burning at the back of my mind since the courtyard announcement.
My first thought is no—he can’t. Even airborne, even with his size and natural defenses, one draken doesn’t have a chance against ten trained gladiators.
Not fodder. Glads. I shudder. How do I tell him, after I promised to keep them alive? And if he dies in the arena, what happens to me?
That’s an appealing thought—a fiery death in the arena, one of the honored dead in truth. I let my eyes close, enjoying the fantasy. When I open them again, the light is off, and Jemes is snoring quietly, one arm thrown over my waist.
-You must come,- Miwya orders again, an insistent presence in my mind threatening to crush everything else. I shudder, and force myself to slide out of the bed. -Chosi’le!- he snaps, angry.
-Stop,- I throw back, fighting a headache. -I’m awake, dammit.-
He backs away mentally, and I can breathe again, think without the force of it making my teeth ache.
-You must come, little Le,- he says, softer now, a brush against my psyche. -Quickly.-
Prodded by his insistence, I slip into my leather leggings and tight-fitting shirt that comes only halfway up my back, leaving my wings free. I snag my whip, and slip from our room like a ghost, darting through the darkness. Pente’s second moon has not risen, and it won’t. Not until after the Eclipse.
The illusion of smoke and shadow is so strong I can’t find Miwya in the shifting darkness. I clutch at the rock wall. -Miwya? Where are you?-
Shadows slip, lighten, just enough that I can see the other five sleeping, and Miwya’s brilliant eyes. -Hurry, little Le. We don’t have much time.-
I almost ask why. The word hovers on the tip of my tongue, and I bite it down. Instead, I climb to his perch. He looks at me, his golden eye close enough that I can see myself, small and broken-winged, reflected in his gaze. -I need you to see something, before we enter the arena. Before you decide to warm Prator’s bed. You need to understand about us.- I nod uncertainly, and he ducks down. -Then climb aboard, little Le. I will return you before the Ja has reason to suspect we are gone.-
Fear floods me, the diamond at my throat an icy pulse. -Miwya,- I begin and he dips his head, turning to look at me.
-We have them, too, Chosi,- he says simply, extending his wings. I see the tiny chips of onyx embedded there, glittering and beautiful. I shudder, wanting to touch them.
-Hurry, Chosi,- Miwya says again. -The others won’t sleep forever.-
Without questioning him further, I climb up, settling in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Heat rises up from his scales, a comforting warmth. He gathers himself and launches into the air, catching at the rock. The tunnel is wider up close than I would have thought from the ground. Only once do I catch my breath and squeeze my eyes shut as I cling to Miwya’s broad back, praying I am not scraped off by the sharp rocks.
And then the night sky spreads before us, vast and sparkling with the light of a hundred thousand stars.
My brother is out there, somewhere.
If he senses my thoughts or sorrow, Miwya doesn’t comment. Instead, he pushes away from the cliff, the force snapping me forward and back.
-What are we doing?- I ask, watching the ground recede, trying not to focus on how much I want to be flying. Riding a draken is intoxicating, the feel of the wind rushing through my wings enough to make me dizzy with pleasure.
But it isn’t the same. It never will be.
-I want you to see something,- he says, veering to the right, circling above the sleeping jakta in a wide arch. -Argot allows us the freedom to fly.- He answers my unspoken question. -He didn’t, at first. But when the draken clutch became too sickly to fight, he revised our limited freedoms.-
I nod, settling against his scales as we soar, the steady motion of his wings and the wind emptying my mind. I am almost asleep when he speaks, a gentle presence in my mind. -I want to show you something we don’t share with Others.-
His mind is suddenly pressing, crushing against mine, and I bite back a gasp. -Let me in, Chosi,- he says, and there is no room to refuse. There is only the heavy pressure, and the stars high above me, fading against the growing darkness. I surrender, and he floods in. I can’t help my whimper, drowned out by the beat of his wings and the rush of the wind. Pain lances through me, blinding me to everything, and I cry out, a wordless shriek.
-Gentle, gentle, must be gentle. She’s so delicate. Natsu was right; she can’t survive this, I was wrong. Argot will kill me and it will all be for nothing.-
The rush of thought startles me, and I try to move. But I feel nothing, nothing but a small shift on my neck and a leap of excitement, a surge of hope. -Little Le?-
The thought echoes strangely. I feel it as my own, and I hear it directed at me. A shudder goes through me—through the draken. –Relax, little Le. I’m sharing your mind, but you are still you. I need you to see through my eyes.-
I open my eyes, and it’s unnaturally bright. I can see everything, from the sweep of wings in the corner of my eye to the jakta spread below us and the desert, stretching into the horizon like an unbroken blanket. A ripple of longing goes through me, even as I realize what is wrong with my view. I can’t see Miwya. I’m looking through his eyes, feeling the strange pull on his wings and the negligible weight of the girl on his back. I shake my head, focusing instead on his stream of thought.
There are no words, just an unnamed longing that steals my breath in its familiarity. An image forms in our mind: rocks covered in dozing draken, a spilling river, a herd of goats scattering as I swoop from the sky, plucking one easily and climbing back to the nest. A female is there, small and lovely, so lovely it makes my breathe catch. Kensa. The name rings through me, familiar as breathing, as foreign as Others. A scream pulls my—our—attention from the female, and I take to the sky. Jakta gladiators—two, three phalanxs. Coming up the glade, invading. We scream in rage as the first wave of glads attack. The fire we throw is melting off them, almost harmlessly, and we shriek our frustration. Above us, there is a sudden scream, painful and angry. Our head jerks up, and we slap a glad with the broadside of our tail, sending him off the mountain, then scramble clear, launching upward, suddenly desperate to reach Kensa.
I smell the slaughter before I reach the nest. I can smell the ash, the fires still burning, and the rich spicy scent of blood.
It’s a scene from a nightmare, the worst dream I could imagine. Kensa is lying in a pool of blood, her neck twisted away, so I can’t see her eyes. Another phalanx of gladiators has snuck up on us from behind, attacking her when she was alone and vulnerable and defending...I shriek as I see them handling our eggs. A laser hits me, and I stumble back a step, almost crushing the glads crowding behind me. I lunge forward, only to be hit again by the laser. Pain sears through me, but it’s nothing compared to the sight of Kensa lying so still. Too still.
I fall after the third blow, and I see her eyes, beautiful and furious, for the first time. The angle is wrong. The way her head is lying—it’s not right.
My gorge lurches, and I feel sick, furious, broken. I shriek again, so loud the rocks shake as I stare at my mate’s head, severed from her body.
A man steps away from the glads. He watches me coldly, toeing Kensa’s head aside. The shadows flare with my anger, but he holds something: an egg. I go still, watching him holding my egg. “This egg is the price of your cooperation. You have injured three of my glads. And I require payment,” Henri Argot says, and hurls the egg to the stone.
It shatters spectacularly, the tiny half-formed body curling in the fluids that should be protecting it, nourishing it. I can’t even scream as pain from the laser slams into me again and I crumple in wordless agony.
Argot stands over me, supervising the dismantling of my egg clutch, and I lie there helplessly as he steals everything I’ve eve
r loved.
With a suddenness that is startling, I’m separated from Miwya again, in my skin, his sorrow his own. I’m aware of the tears on my cheeks, stinging in the cool night, just as I’m aware of the taste of blood and ash in my mouth. I gag, and he tilts his head, a blast of affection sliding over me as I lean into him.
-Natsu? The others? Are they your children?-
-Yes. They don’t know. I won’t ever tell them what Argot did. It is best. But you need to know. You want to protect us, and to do that, you must understand how far Argot is willing to go.-
I flash on that nightmare cave, the walls smeared with blood and gore, the detached head and the dying draken covered in amniotic fluids. I nod, and he sighs, a heavy sigh of utter weariness. And turns us in another wide circle, taking us back to the other sleeping draken.
Chapter 22
Juhan’tr
“DO YOU THINK THEY’LL take aid from you?” Sadi asks.
Harvine swallows the last of his coffee and stands, motioning impatiently at Larkin. “They don’t have many choices right now, Sadiene. And pride has no place in a catastrophe.”
She bites her lip, watching him leave. We’re being left behind, a measure both Sadi and Brando supported, for different reasons. I stare out the viewfinder at the planet sprawling before us. Crimson clouds swirl through the atmosphere, slashed through with the black of smoke and ashes.
-They won’t accept Daddy,- Sadi says, and I glance over at her. -The brothel madams are proud and Daddy is offering the charity of a Senate who does not want them. Why would they accept anything he has to offer—especially when it will be sent throughout the Alliance, and everyone will see how weak they are?-
-He’d record this?- I ask, startled.
“Larkin won’t leave him much choice, Juhan,” she answers shortly, her mind shuttering from me. I glance away and she sighs, reaching for my hand. She threads our fingers together, and squeezes. “Sorry. I’m just nervous. Let’s get something to eat while we wait, hmm?”
Tinex is in the galley and Sadi sits next to him as I put together sandwiches from the bar Harvine’s staff always has out. I add some fresh fruit and hand the plates around.
The vid screen blinks to life, and I can hear Larkin talking to the Senator. “You need to get footage of this. It’s good for your ratings.”
Harvine sighs, an aggrieved sound. “I’m not interested in my damn ratings; they’re fine. I want to help these people and the Madam won’t appreciate cameras.”
“She can’t afford to be picky, remember?” Larkin answers sharply and Harvine gives him a censorious glance. The aide looks away first and Sadi laughs silently at my side.
“One camera. And we will respect her. Or I’ll send you and your cameras back to the Arizona.”
Larkin signals one of the staffers, and he scurries forward, attaching a pinprick vidfeed to the chief of staff’s lapel as the shuttle hurtles them toward the planet surface.
“He has five other feeds running,” Sadi says, picking at her fruit. I glance at her questioningly. She shrugs. “Larkin doesn’t believe in being unprepared. He’ll give the footage to one of the techs and they’ll splice it together to make Daddy look perfect.” The bitterness in her voice startles me, and she shrugs again. “I’ve been used in these vids often enough. I don’t have any love for them.”
I’m quiet as we watch the Senator, flanked by Brando, step off the shuttle and into a disaster zone. After a brief negotiation, the Cenktari allow him to help, his staffers spreading out and distributing water. A few of the larger staff—the security detail—help clear the rubble of a nearby building, dragging out the dead. When a survivor is found, Larkin is quick to position the Senator just so, catching him in the perfect light.
She’s right. The Senator might be here to help, but this is nothing but a photo-op to the chief of staff, footage to impress constituents.
“Turn it off,” I say, tugging her hand. She looks at me, and I pull her away. To a game of Imperium, or a nap—to anything but her father and his politics.
We’re in the middle of a game of Imperium with Tin tapping at his tablet, when the Senator returns. She gives a soft sigh as a second shake goes through the Arizona, and I look at her.
“We have visitors,” Sadi says. She glances at her clothes—plain, loose trousers, a tight top for sparring. “It’ll have to do. Come on.”
I follow her through the Arizona to greet her father. He’s talking to an older woman. She has striking, distinctive features that speak of a beauty that has weathered the seasons of life and is fading into the twilight of her years with a startling grace. Her eyes dart to Sadi and me, and she smiles, a slightly reserved smile that makes me want to reassure her.
“My daughter, Sadiene, and her consort, Juhan’tr of Eleyiar. Sadi, this is Madam Lily.”
Sadi smiles, says something I don’t really hear. “Juhan?”
I jump a little, look at Sadi. -Dinner,- she says. -Just get through dinner with me.-
It’s a formal affair—as formal as we can be with almost no time to prepare, and a disaster on the surface.
“Will the IPS send aid?” Lily asks as she cuts into a roast mushroom steak.
Harvine hesitates, and Larkin shakes his head. “No. Unfortunately, the Interplanetary Alliance cannot afford to send aid to every planet that suffers a natural disaster. I’m afraid they give precedence to planets within the alliance, and Cenktari is not.”
Lily smiles, a lush curve of lips that screams disdain. “Then why are you here, Senator? One man can’t do anything of consequence.”
Harvine laughs. “That’s what they’ve said my entire career.”
“We wouldn’t know—we’re not welcome in your IPS or Alliance,” she says.
Larkin frowns. “Lady, you know that isn’t true. You know we welcome new planets. Planets who are willing to abide by the laws we have—including those on prostitution.”
She offers a razor-thin smile. “I’m sure that’s true. However, no one has ever expressed interest in bringing Cenktari into the IPS, and without our bed skills, we have no industry to offer the galaxy. Besides. Were we to stop, another planet would offer the same service. It will always be around; you know that.” She stands abruptly. “You should leave, Senator. You have your election footage. Go home and leave us to tend our dead. We don’t want anything more to do with you or your campaign.” She gives him another smile, razor sharp, and turns away.
I blink at her back. Just like that, Senator Harvine of New Earth has been dismissed.
Sadi guides the Leen away from the Senator’s Arizona. Below us, spread out like a bloody wound, is Cenktari.
“Building on an active volcano was a stupid idea,” Sadi mutters through her teeth as we glide toward the atmosphere. Silently, she asks, -Are you ready?-
I nod, shoving my mental walls up so hard and thick I can hardly feel her or Tin.
“They built on volcanoes because that’s all that’s on Cenktari. And no other planets have their laws on prostitution,” Tin says as we enter the atmosphere. “Or the lack of laws.”
The rage, grief, pain, horror—all of it swells up like a silent scream and I stumble. Even hidden behind my walls, the mental assault is strong enough that it drives me to my knees. Distantly, past the onslaught of the psychic storm, I can hear Sadi calling my name, can feel the press of Tin’s hand between my wings.
I gag, vomit rising as the horror from the disaster begins to ebb and the rush of the minds of a hundred thousand stolen whores fills the void.
Cenktari. The planet of illicit pleasure and high end prostitution. The bloody stain that caters to any sexual desire, no matter how deviant, and boasts an unnaturally high number of Eleyi whores. It has been said they make the best prostitutes—who better to pay for pleasure than someone who can read it in your mind?
It’s a fate Eleyi are terrified of, worse even than being Taken and sold in the auction houses. And all of them, every whore branded and bought, is screaming.
I sag against the floor, fury making me weak, my mind still caught in the whirl of psyches.
“You can’t do this to him, Sadi. Send him back to the Arizona,” Tin says, and I feel her hesitate, deliberating.
“Don’t,” I choke out and she looks at me. -I’m fine, I promise,- I say. Her eyes close for a heartbeat before she shoves the throttle, and we race toward the surface.
I must be the only Eleyi in our history to ever willingly go to Cenktari.
I shiver, my wings vibrating with the effort it’s taking to filter out the psychic storm. “How do they live like this?” I mumble and Sadi glances at me. I can feel her sharp-edged concern, the residual worry that she should be sending me back to the Arizona.
Then Tin’s gasp draws her gaze to the viewscreen, and we all stare.
Seeing it on the news feed was devastating: the fire-gutted remains of palatial brothels, stone pathways glowing red-hot. Ash so thick breather masks are required for safety. The scarred survivors, weeping over the ashy remains of loved ones.
But seeing it now, close enough to touch, feeling their agony, is different. What was remote and removed is now real, in a way that cannot be denied.
And above it, above the devastation, looming like a bloody fist, rises Mount Cenktari. It’s still smoking, lava weeping from cracks and vents. The night sky glows brilliant crimson at its peak, a slow, steady river of molten lava pouring down. Sadi lands the Leen with a soft thump, and stands. “Ready?” she asks us, and I nod. It’s almost natural to take her hand.
The air shimmers with heat as the Leen’s bay doors slide open and we step out. A few prostitutes are tending the wounded, easily identifiable by the scarlet bars tattooed on their cheeks.
The Scarlet Stain. Cenktari has been called that for longer than I have been alive, both for its volcanoes and the tattoos the prostitutes wear.
“I don’t care if they aren’t obligated; the IPS should send aid. They could contain these eruptions,” Tin says, his voice choked and furious. I shove his emotions away, fighting nausea as the psychic storm screams around me.
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 17