Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1)

by Nazarea Andrews

  “Cenktari isn’t an IPS planet,” Sadi answers tightly. “The Senate will gladly let The Scarlet Stain burn.”

  “We don’t need their aid.” The woman is a freed slave—three black strips crisscross her scarlet bars. She’s Jentar, with all the grace of their system—elegantly beautiful, tall and willowy, moving toward us with a liquid grace born on the water. She’s covered in ash and soot, her diaphanous pink robes stained with blood, yet it does nothing to diminish her beauty. “Why are you here, Sadi Renult?” she asks, imperiously.

  “We want to help. I don’t come as the daughter of Harvine, but a citizen who cares for the lives lost, Madam.”

  “And you bring your slave?” she asks, a mixture of pity and disdain in her brilliant yellow eyes.

  “Juhan isn’t a slave,” Sadi insists. The Madam rakes a look over me, then turns away without commenting. “Please,” Sadi calls, “we want to help. That’s all. Is your pride really going to keep you from accepting help when your people suffer?”

  The Madam stops, and shrugs elegantly. “As you wish. Kendal will assist you.” She motions to a lithe male and he steps forward.

  His voice is like honey when he speaks. “Follow me, Ms. Renault.”

  Sadi jerks at the beauty of it, a wave of heat and longing filling her. I glance at her and she flushes as she hurries to follow him.

  “There are few wounded,” Kendal says as he walks lightly through the smoky street. “Madam Tali has converted her brothel for use as a hospital.” He pushes the burnt doors open and leads us into the brothel. It’s almost untouched, elegant decadence, soft curtains and plush couches that hold the wounded and burned.

  “Does Madam Tali still run a stable?” Sadi asks, genuinely curious.

  Kendal smiles, amusement filling him. “Of course. The other madams would never accept her leadership if she couldn’t run a stable.”

  His words click, locking into place like a puzzle piece. The Jentar madam is the leader of Cenktari, the queen of whores.

  -Best choke that thought before it forms, friend. Tali doesn’t much care for the term ‘whore.’- The voice is weak but amused, and I sway, inching past Sadi and Kendal to get to the speaker.

  She’s small, short legs and arms, her longish blonde hair giving her a full appearance. Her eyes, a bright blue, shine with amusement and intelligence. -How hurt are you?- I ask, crouching next to her.

  She shrugs, the motion obviously painful, and a sharp breath hisses between her teeth. And that’s when I notice what’s wrong, why she appears so small.

  Her wings are gone. The stumps remain on her back, a few charred feathers clinging stubbornly, but the wide sweep of wings that should be there is gone. Horror swamps me, and I fall back a few steps involuntarily. It’s disgusting and appalling and so wrong my stomach lurches.

  -I won’t be able to work the beds anymore,- she says, and through the white noise, I can feel the current of satisfaction in her.

  -You can’t fly.-

  A snort. -Brother, I haven’t flown since I was Taken. They clip our wings before we’re put in a stable.- She says it matter-of-factly, as if the horror of her statement has faded under the time and weight of it.

  “Juhan?” Sadi calls and I startle, half-turning to look at her. Kendal is leading Tin toward a room near the back of the brothel. “Are you coming?”

  -Your owner?- the Eleyi asks.

  I stare at her, at her scarlet bars that announce she is a pleasure slave. And for some reason I don’t want to lie to her.

  -It’s complicated,- I answer and she laughs. -I have to go, but I’ll come back.-

  Her tone is amused. -I won’t be going anywhere.-

  I stand and hurry after Sadi. Her emotions are walled off and she refuses to look at me as I take her hand. “Kendal wants us to bring food and water to the injured,” she says quietly.

  She glances back at the Eleyi and then me. “Who is she?

  I blink, startled. “A pleasure slave. She’s Eleyi.”

  Something flares in her psyche and she doesn’t bother to contain it. “You’re jealous,” I say, amazed.

  “So? What if I am?” she snaps and begins to stalk away from me.

  I catch her arm, turning her back to me. “She’s Eleyi. The first I’ve spoken to since I left the auctions. Do you really begrudge me stopping?”

  “You make me sound completely unreasonable,” she grumbles and I shake her, slightly.

  -It is completely unreasonable,- I snap back, unable to contain my own anger. –To deny me the right to speak with a fellow Eleyi because you’re jealous is cruel, lady.-

  She jerks as if slapped, and I stalk past her, snatching up a bag full of survival packs. The first of the wounded I come to is a boy, and I crouch next to him, trying to ignore his nakedness. “Are you hungry?” I ask, and he stares, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Or water. I have water. And hydro patches.”

  “Morphine?” he gasps and I shake my head.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, feeling useless. There is one thing I can do, one thing that might ease his pain a little. I glance around quickly, but Sadi and Tin are several patients away, ignoring me as they tend the slave Sadi is giving water to. I lean closer to the boy, and murmur, “I can help you, a little. Drink some water for me.”

  I tear open the pouch, putting it to his dry lips and he tries to swallow. Most of it runs down his chin and dribbles on his chest, but I look busy. That’s what really matters.

  I settle in my mind, finding my focus, and slip through the psychic storm to just this one mind, writhing in agony. His psyche screams when I touch it, a wordless shriek of pain and fear. I ignore it and force my mind on his, slowly draining off his emotions and, most importantly, his pain. I can feel it when he realizes it’s gone—the startled pause in his scream, the slight withdrawal. I control his mind enough that he can’t go far, only as far as I allow, and that realization causes another kind of panic.

  I shift my grip on his psyche and ease him into unconsciousness. His eyes flutter a few times, and then he slumps into a healing sleep.

  Quickly, with less care than is safe, I pull free of his now blank psyche and glance around. I’m shaking, chills wracking my body, and I struggle to appear normal as I stand and go to the next victim, and begin the process again.

  We circle the wounded for hours. I tear open survival packs until my fingers bleed—or maybe it’s the blood of the wounded. I’ve lost track of how many minds I’ve eased, and how much pain I’ve stolen—I only know that my entire body is shaking with fatigue, and I haven’t done enough. Haven’t helped fix anything. It’s so temporary. When the wounds are desperate, when I can look at the wounded slave and see they will not live, I force my will on them, steal their pain, weave an illusion of peace, and take enough of their emotions to ease their passing.

  By the time Kendal returns for us, Sadi is halfway across the cavernous hall, and I’m swaying on my feet. She speaks to the queen’s second, then looks over to me. “Juhan, we should return to the Leen for the night.”

  It’s the first she’s spoken to me since I berated her for her jealousy, and I’m surprised by the civility in her voice. I nod and try to stand.

  I have a moment—a brief, dizzying moment—to realize I’ve stolen too much before I fall, too fast to stop myself, into oblivion.

  I wake up slowly, and lift my head. The quiet hum is comforting and familiar. I’m on the Leen. “Where is Sadi?” I murmur, shifting to stand.

  “Galley,” the ship answers promptly, and I stagger to the door. “Ill-advised. I will inform Sadi of your status.”

  “Disregard. I’m fine,” I answer, and the ship subsides, with a minute rumble of systems that makes me think it’s disgruntled.

  I find Sadi slumped at the table, cradling a mug of warm chocolate, fatigue pulling her eyes closed. Tin stirs something on the hotsurface, the smell of spice and cream and vegetables thick in the air. I watch them, testing the surface of their emotions before I clear my throat. Sa
di glances blearily at me, and then nudges a chair out with a loud screech. I sink down and we sit silently for a long time before she asks, hoarsely, “Want some? Chocolate can make anything better.”

  I take the proffered cup, recognizing it for the peace offering it is. “How’s that working for you?” I ask before taking a sip. Liquid, velvet heat fills my mouth, slides down my throat. It tastes like a memory, and I struggle to see past a vision of Chosi and a thousand mornings, sitting at the table with her while she cradled a cup of chocolate. I force the memory away, focusing on Sadi.

  Sadi shrugs and gives me a weak smile. “Not terribly well.”

  I touch her psyche again, feeling the conflict, disgust and desperation. Her eyes are impossibly young when they find mine. “How does this happen? There are thousands injured. We didn’t even make a dent today. And that says nothing of the dead. And no one cares. Because they’re whores,” she finishes bitterly. She almost snatches the chocolate from me, burying her nose in the cup.

  “What are the estimates on the dead?”

  “Thirty thousand in Cenktari alone,” Tin answers. He ladles out soup and hands steaming bowls around. “Ninety percent of the dead were slaves.”

  Sadi glares. “That doesn’t make the deaths acceptable.”

  “No one said it did, Sadi,” he says mildly and nudges her spoon. She stares at it and then takes a tiny bite. As soon as she swallows, her eyes widen and she bolts from the table.

  Tin drops his spoon with a curse and moves to go after her. “Let me,” I say, standing and following her.

  She’s leaning over the commode, tears streaming down her face. I touch along her psyche, a flutter of moth wings. It’s so fragile, shattered into so many pieces it stuns me. How can she appear so together when she is completely broken?

  -Sadi?-

  -How can we expect to make a difference?- she whispers. -It’s so much and we are so small, and no one cares. No one is even here. The IPS will gladly let their world burn.-

  -They care,- I say, uselessly.

  She twists to glare at me. -Don’t you dare lie for them. Don’t you dare. They look the other way while your entire world is raped of its people. While your sister is Taken and branded and sold. They use slaves. So don’t you dare lie for them. They don’t deserve it.-

  I push aside the truth in her words, the rush of anger that she’s one of the slave owners she’s denouncing, and crouch next to her, brushing hair over her ears and murmuring, “We’ll make a difference because you can’t help it, Sadi. You change things.”

  As I say it, I realize how true my words are. She has changed me.

  She looks up at me, hope flaring in her psyche. I flinch, watching her with careful eyes as she shoves mental walls in place, locking them around her emotions.

  “Help me up. This floor is filthy,” she mumbles.

  The Leen beeps loudly. “Untrue. System cleaned and purified twelve hours ago.”

  She smirks and I feel something loosen in me. The worst seems to be over. I tug her up into my arms and she settles there naturally, her head tucked into the curve of my shoulder. I smooth a hand over her hair. “You need to eat. Tin is worried.”

  “Tin worries about everything,” she mutters against my shirt and I breathe a laugh, hugging her tightly for a moment longer.

  We walk through the Leen, back to the galley. I manage to relax a little as she settles, calming Tin and warming our dinner. She hands me bread that is thick, heavy, covered with a creamy cheese that makes my mouth water.

  “Do you want to explain what exactly you did today?” Sadi asks, nibbling her bread.

  I glance at her, then Tin. Both are watching me with curious eyes, but neither looks like they’ll be distracted. Carefully, I swallow my soup and say, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  She nods. “I thought you might say that. But the fact is that you shouldn’t be passing out from distributing food and water, Juhan.”

  “There was the psychic storm before that,” I point out coolly. “And it was ungodly hot in there.”

  She stares at me, disbelieving, and I drop my head, focusing on the table in silence. “I can’t tell you,” I murmur, finally, the weight of my people sitting on my shoulders.

  Sadi’s eyes are hard when I look up. Even without touching her psyche, I know she’s fighting herself and I wait. So much will depend on how she handles this, if she will respect my boundaries.

  “I’m trying to help, Juhan. How can I do that, if you refuse to trust me?” she says at last.

  “How can I trust you? You own me,” I answer, before I can stop myself.

  She recoils and I reach for her, psychically and physically. “Sadi, this isn’t just me. This is so much bigger than I am. Telling you would betray every Eleyi alive and Taken. And I do trust you, but I cannot betray my people. Can you understand that?”

  She pulls away, and I reluctantly release her hand. “I don’t understand,” she says, quietly furious. “I betrayed my father to help you. And if word of how were to reach the IPS, it would affect everyone on New Earth. So I do not understand how you can continue to distrust me, how you can place your people, who will not help you, before me.” She walks away stiffly and I stare after her, cursing.

  “Screwed that up, didn’t you?” Tin says, looking at me.

  “Don’t,” I warn.

  “What? Point out that you’re being an idiot? Point out that she is risking everything for you? She asks because she’s worried about you—about your health and mental wellbeing. She doesn’t ask because she’s looking for some long lost secret that could destroy the Eleyi.” He stands, snatches Sadi’s still full bowl from the table and glares at me. “I broke into the Yalten records. She wanted to know you were strong enough to hear it. But since you’re going to be an ass, there it is. We found your bloody sister.”

  The room spins, tilts, focuses on his words. All my anger, all my arguments, dry up and I stumble, falling into my seat as it reverberates in my skull, the words that are both exhilarating and terrifying: we found her.

  We know where Chosi’le is.

  Chapter 23

  Chosi’le

  I SQUINT INTO THE rising sun and sigh. The entire jakta is awake and on edge—most have not slept. The honored dead were taken to the arena last night, and for a moment I am worried about Kristoff. He has been quiet since the announcement, and I don’t know what he’s feeling about facing the arena today. I feel guilty, inexplicably. I should have asked, should have offered him more support.

  Krato comes for me and Miwya before the first moon rises. “Ja Argot wants you at the arena early, girl. Get your devil and go to the hover.”

  I nod and reach for Miwya’s mind. -Are you ready?- He bugles in my head, a comforting assent, and I shove my nerves down. I grab my bag containing my spectacle attire, wing tips, and whip.

  The hover is huge—for a moment, the size reminds me of the slave ship, and I falter. Miwya butts me with his head. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Then I force myself to board, my draken at my back.

  The premthas are already in their pen, their Eleyi beastboys lounging in front of the pen’s large window. I watch them shrink back, wary of my draken, and I grin as he shifts, hunched because of the low ceiling.

  One of the ship’s crew hurries toward me and points at the largest of the pens. “Put him in there.”

  I hide my smile at his nerves, nodding at him, and the shadow and smoke flows forward, into the pen. I follow Miwya, aware that his illusion is wrapping around me. The crewman is watching me, eyes wide. “I can’t close the pen with you in there, Brielle.”

  I give him a scornful glare, going about settling my draken while the crewman waits, fidgeting nervously. -Will you pull in the illusion?- I ask, but Miwya ignores me, curling into a tight circle and laying his head on folded claws. I am clearly dismissed. I sigh. There is nothing to do but step out of the pen and let the crewman key it closed.

  “You can stay here or go
to the galley. The trip to the arena won’t take long, but we’re still waiting on the hukron,” the crewman says, visibly more relaxed now that Miwya is secured. I nod, settling against the wall of the pen and closing my eyes.

  It’s been a long morning already, and the day promises to be longer. I didn’t sleep. I lay in my bed, alone, wishing Jemes was with me. I haven’t slept. I can’t sleep now.

  -Stop,- Miwya says, gentle in my mind. -Rest. You’ll need it before the day is done.-

  I nod, taking a breath and slipping deep into my mind, focusing on my inner thoughts until everything fades away but the empty space inside me.

  I awake suddenly.

  Miwya hasn’t moved, but I can feel his thoughts prodding me as I look around. The hovercraft has slowed, and as my thoughts come back from the deep place where I have been, I become aware of the seething mass of minds around us. I shiver at the sensation. I’ve become used to the babble of minds at the jakta, and just as used to tuning them out. But this is different, and it takes me a moment of struggle to force the thoughts back into nothing but white noise. The other beastboys are in the same process when I blink, clearing the spots from my vision. Miwya bugles impatiently behind me and I nod. -I know, I’m coming.-

  I force myself to stand, my legs aching from sitting cross-legged too long. The crew is moving through the hover, the pilot hurrying past me and off the ship as quickly as he can without breaking into a run. I want to laugh at the stench of fear rolling off him, but I swallow it.

  They unload the premtha pride and garilia first and then the hukron while I wait impatiently.

  And even when that is done, the crew waits until finally I stalk to where they stand clustered together. When the crewman finally looks at me, I demand, “Is there a reason you are not letting me unload my draken? I need to accustom him to the arena before we’re due to fight.”