One of them will die, and I’m not ready for another loss. I shudder as a sharp breath goes through the patrons, and Prator’s interest sharpens on me. The fight drags on for an eternity, and I want to scream as the patrons begin to exchange bets, laughing and gasping, watching the men dying in the arena. I begin to turn away and Prator catches me, forces my gaze back to the sands. “Watch,” he hisses. “This is your doing, and you will watch. You will see what you have done—and you’ll remember, the next time I ask.”
Guilt rises in me. Kristoff is bleeding now. Jemes is staggering from a blow to his leg that is gushing blood. Kristoff glances up, and something changes in his eyes. Sorrow. He moves fast, faster than I can watch, his ax swinging up and around and the crowd’s scream drowns out my own as Jemes collapses, his head spinning with a spray of hot blood. I stumble, almost falling. Grief and guilt—mine and Kristoff’s—slam into me, and my walls aren’t strong enough to keep the emotion out.
Prator catches me. I shriek again, but the sound is lost in the babble of the patrons. Argot nods sharply at his brother, and I’m pulled from the room, dragged across the halls. Back to the beast pit, back to my waiting draken. Who are with the others, now? Who will tend them, if my aide, my Jemes is dead? I sob, and as we enter the hall leading to Miwya, Prator backhands me. “Enough.” He snarls, “I gave you a choice and you made it. This is the consequence. You don’t refuse my bed for a service slave and expect him to live.”
“He wasn’t bought for the arena,” I gasp, choking on the words. “You killed him and he was never meant to fight!”
I throw myself at him with a scream, and he catches me, shaking me with a teeth-rattling force, my head slamming into the wall. Prator grins. “Easy enough to send a few extra creds to his father.”
Anger flares in me, white hot, drowning out the grief, and I scream, clawing at him. He expects it, though, and shoves me down, kicking me in the stomach. My breath explodes from me in a hot rush and I gag, throwing up in the hall as Prator stands over me in disgust. Even after I can breathe again, I slump there, sobbing. “Get up. Clean yourself. You’re due in the arena in an hour. You’ll fight, you’ll put a damn good show on, or so help me, Brielle, I’ll have every draken killed, every Eleyi in the jakta,” he spits, anger surging in his psyche.
“I don’t care,” I snarl from the ground and in this moment, I don’t—kill them all, kill Kristoff. None of them, not even my brother, has taken care of me. Only Jemes and now he’s dead.
“I’ll kill your brother.”
It makes me stop, and I stare at him, stunned.
“You fight. Make the patrons believe it. Or I will send assassins for your brother.”
Then he turns, stalking back to his brother, leaving me a weeping mess on the floor under the arena.
I fight, because I am terrified of what he will do if I don’t. The manger’s underling bustles around me as the sands are prepared. Miwya hisses when someone comes too close to me, and he clucks at me. “Control your beast, girl. And remember, when you open, he’s meant to be attacking you.”
I nod, and Miwya nuzzles me. -You have to fight well, little Le. He’ll kill the drakelings, if you don’t.-
The hatch to the arena floor opens, and I nudge him. -Go. I’ll give them their show.-
He hesitates for a long moment, long enough the crowd is beginning to become restive, and then throws himself through the hatch, into the air above the sands.
The audience goes wild. With my mind open to Miwya, there is no filter, and the emotions, the rush of energy, hits me like a fist, leaving me reeling. I shudder, stumbling, struggling to get control.
His wings fill the air, blocking out the sun and moons, and as all eyes are drawn to him, I am pushed unceremoniously onto the sands. A shield snaps in place, keeping the audience separated from Miwya as he arches through the air and spews fire. -I’m ready. Attack,- I order, straightening, and as he banks, veering toward me, I let my mind go blessed blank. The crowd sees me, standing alone, my wings curled to my back, as the draken dives and I hear the gasp of breath, the tingle of anticipation going through them. At the last possible second, I roll, ducking under his breath of fire, and I feel it singe my hair. He whips around, his tail almost hitting me as I dance back. I pull my whip, and it sings through the air, pulling a screech from Miwya as I unfurl my wings. The crowd screams their approval. I beat him back, and in my head, I can hear his laughter, ringing through me like a wave of pure delight, chasing down the adrenaline high.
We fight across the sands, while the crowd watches in a frenzy of anticipation. The fires come closer until we’re almost circled, and I am pinned between him and the bank of flames.
When I touch his nose, and he lowers his head under my caress, I think I will go deaf from the delight of the crowd, ringing across the sands and over the desert.
Then the phalanx floods the arena floor, and the frenzy freezes. -We can’t lose,- I murmur to him, half drunk, pulling myself into the saddle that Kristoff provided. -Not now.-
He grunts an affirmation, and we’re in the air, dodging the attacks that come too fast to follow. I stab at the glads with my hurkya, watching the crowd go berserk when blood sprays. I jerk the hooked blade free, waving it at theM as Miwya savages a gladiator who has attacked his foreleg.
He’s wounded, though not so much that I am worried. Faster than I would believe possible—yet longer than I would assume, from the way Miwya is beginning to flag—the gladiators are defeated. When I look around, the blood haze clears from my vision. I see them lying on the sand in rapidly drying pools of blood and I slide down Miwya’s back. His head rests on my shoulders as I salute the crowd.
Their screams, emotion that pours from them like waves on Eleyiar, catch me in their embrace, and I ride it, a high like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Miwya is watching from my shoulder, and I am vaguely aware that he is worried, just as I’m aware that the Ja is pleased, and Prator is stunned.
But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, and it falls away as I fall under the spell of the crowd that now belongs to me.
Chapter 24
Juhan’tr
-Something is bothering you.- Fendra’de blinks at me over the rim of her cup, and I force a smile. The wingless Eleyi sees too much and after two weeks of caring for her, it is very easy to forget myself with her, to forget it is not only my secrets I keep.
-I’m tired,- I say, brushing aside her words.
She shifts, looking at me, intently. -There is talk of you among the sick. Whispers about you taking pain and easing the way into death.-
She doesn’t say more, doesn’t push for an explanation that I cannot give. I look down at my hands, and my gaze snags on the stumps that used to be her wings. Inanely, I wonder if she is still Fendra’de. What would a wingless Eleyi be called? We’ve never had one, never needed to name them.
-I didn’t mean it,- I whisper. -They were hurting, and I could help. It wasn’t supposed to be noticed.-
She inhales sharply, and I feel the sudden presence of Eleyi minds, listening and attentive. -Juhan, does she know? Does Renult know what we can do?-
I’m shaking my head. -Of course not. I’d never betray Eleyiar that way.-
She doesn’t say that I already have. That exposing our darkest ability in a place as unprotected as this spells disaster and danger for all Eleyi.
What would the Others do, if they knew that we could do more than pick up emotions and thoughts? That we could steal them, with very little effort. That the strongest of us could force our will and actions on weaker minds.
When Others first came to Eleyiar, we didn’t know to keep our psychic abilities a secret. But even then, there were things we didn’t talk about, we didn’t share with outsiders. Things that were too dark for us to speak of even to each other. And it saved us from annihilation.
It became taboo and skills, once prized, faded until they were only whispered myths. Hushed lessons passed between ancient mentors and the most skille
d students. Even on Eleyiar, it is a skill that is feared, something that sets us apart from the Others.
-You can’t tell her, Juhan. I don’t know or care what game you and the human are playing but this is not a secret you can share,- Fendra’de says, her voice urgent and harsh in my mind.
My anger spikes and I’m furious, suddenly. I sit back on my heels, ready to stand. -You don’t know. I am playing a game, a very dangerous one, and I’ll do anything I have to to win. Even if that means trading every Eleyi life as currency. The Eleyi did nothing for me or my sister when she was Taken. And you expect me to give a damn about them now?- I glare at her, feeling betrayed. –I am here. Not searching the galaxy for my sister—here. Helping you, doing everything I can to make your life a little better. Don’t berate me for that.- I move away from them, needing space. I’ve been avoiding thinking about still being here. I want to be—I’m useful here, in a way that I haven’t been since before I was Taken. But I can’t deny the guilt that seems to dodge every movement, every time I steal a little pain, make a passing easier.
I should be looking for Chosi. Not here on a slave planet that haunts me, healing whores who would rather die.
Without conscious thought, I crouch by a slave. Her face was crushed by falling rubble, one leg shattered in the collapse. Burns cover the damaged limbs. Her fingers and toes are twitching as she sleeps—or maybe she’s just unconscious. I grab a med patch and affix it to her shoulder—the pain meds will kick in almost instantly. I watch, waiting for her limbs to relax. That’s when I slip into her mind, drifting as gently as I can. Her walls are completely devastated—all rational thought is overridden by the pain so intense it makes my breath catch. I let my mental walls lower, and the pain floods over me.
I open my mind to her, and her pain seeps out of her, filling me. I grit my teeth, closing my eyes. The slave is relaxing, her body losing tension, settling in an easy, healing sleep.
Someone touches my back and I gasp, wrenching away from them. I fall on my hands and stifle a moan as pain shrieks through me. Too much—I took too much. The wounds were too intense, and I was too distracted by my own thoughts—and now I’m floundering under the stolen pain.
I feel, distantly, a flutter of concern, and someone shouts for Sadi. Her hand brushes against mine and I scream as the pain crests, everything tight and vicious.
And then everything fades away as I black out.
I can feel again, the harsh board I’m lying on, splinters digging into me. The lingering cold of space. The ashy taste of the air. Sadi’s hand in mine as she sits cross-legged at my side. I groan, my stomach cramping with sudden nausea. “Where are we?” I mutter, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up.
I can feel the wash of relief in Sadi as she says, “Still on Cenktari.”
“What happened?” I ask and there is a quiet that makes my skin crawl. I glance at her, at Tin standing behind her. He looks exhausted, Sadi a thin wraith next to him. And we’re in a private room—something is wrong.
It’s agonizing, moving. My body is stiff, and screams with protest as I twist my head to look around.I remember, slowly. Fighting with Fendra. Helping the slave girl. Echoes of pain still twist in my legs. I lick my lips, and reach for Sadi’s mind. It’s exhausted and terrified. I probe a little deeper. What I find shocks me.
-How long was I unconscious?-
-Three days. That slave—she’s fine. Like nothing ever happened.- Sadi says, a touch of accusation in her voice. I look away, guilt and fear crashing over me. I can’t do this—can’t keep risking myself to save the slaves around me. And that kills a little piece of my soul. . –Juhan, - Sadi whispers in my mind and draws me to her.
And knowing I am a coward, I lean into her embrace.
Brando is on the Leen when I stumble aboard.
I would think he is expected, but Sadi freezes, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she stares. The tension spikes and I flinch, swaying on my feet. -Don’t,- I plead. -Argue later, but I can’t handle the emotion right now.-
Sadi bites her lip, looking away from the still silent bodyguard. “I’m going to help Juhan lie down. Tin, will you deal with this?” She waves a vague hand at Brando and something like amusement sparks across his psyche.
“Your father has been called back to New Earth from Geruin,” Brando says quietly.
“Thanks for the message. You should likely return to the Arizona,” Sadi retorts.
“Can’t. I’ve been ordered back to your security detail.”
A spike of fear and outrage slams into me and I groan, stumbling.
“I can’t do this right now. Brando, go away. I’ll deal with you later,” she says, her voice deliberately empty. “Tin, get us off-planet.”
She brushes past Brando, and I stumble along with her until a strong arm slips around my shoulder, lifting my weight from Sadi. He glances at her for a split-second and she brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. “He’s in your old room,” she says.
There is a flicker of amusement from Brando and he teases, “Not your room, Sadi?”
“Oh, shut up,” she says without heat and Brando laughs soundlessly. She trails us to the tiny room that’s somehow become mine and I let out a sigh of relief as I fall into the bed. Sadi pulls a blanket up over my wings and I try to control the shivers that shake me and the bed. “I have to help Tin,” she murmurs and I nod.
“Go. I’ll stay with him,” Brando orders, nudging her gently aside.
Sadi almost runs from the room and I look at Brando. His mental walls are down. -Why?-
-Do you know what you did?- Brando asks, leaning against the wall.
I’m silent, thinking about Fendra’de, her body crumpled and discarded on the fire-scorched stones. About the psyche that jerked me home, how familiar and broken it felt as it wrapped around me. -She wasn’t strong enough to bring me back.-
I twist enough to look up at him and whatever he sees in my eyes, it makes the bodyguard nod. “She was hiding some of her injuries—but there was no one psychically strong enough to pull you back. She was all they had, and she wanted to.”
“Sadi shouldn’t have allowed it. I’m not worth wasting another life on,” I say bitterly, my head dropping to the pillow.
Brando moves, silent, sitting on the floor near my bed. “Zoe told me about your sister.” I glance up, startled and meet his unflinching, unfriendly gaze. “Are you using Sadi?”
I can’t feel anything in his psyche—no emotional tells, nothing but a blank slate that is as terrifying as it is smooth. And yet, staring at him, I don’t doubt that he will kill me if he thinks I am hurting Sadiene.
I smile coldly. “No more than the lady is using me.”
Something flickers in his eyes—admiration?—before it’s gone and he nods, standing. “Madame Tali was not happy about the self-sacrifice of Fendra’de,” he says, walking to the door.
“How not happy?” I call after him.
Brando grins, a rare smile that lights ups his face and brightens his eyes and I can understand, for a heartbeat, why she loves him. He pitches his voice to echo down the hall. “We’ve been thrown off The Scarlet Stain. The cybertulres are going to have a field day with this.”
Distantly, I can hear Sadi cursing and Brando’s laughter trails him through the ship as he ambles away. I pillow my head on my arms, and ignore the fact that I’m making enemies across the galaxy.
She will be furious when I tell her that I need to go to Chosi’le now. I wonder if she’ll allow it. For all that I am presented as free, we know the truth, and the brand on my leg has gone nowhere. I am still a slave. And that knowledge grinds into me, chipping away at my patience and psyche.
“Leen?” I call, and the ship chirps at me. “Tell Sadi I need to speak with her when she has a moment.”
“Acknowledged.”
A few minutes later, Sadi comes into my room, and sits on the bed near me. “What is it?” she asks, and I roll to my side. She looks exhausted—dark shadows under her eyes, a strai
ned expression I hadn’t noticed before, and it’s impossible to ignore the weight she’s lost. For a moment, I consider not saying anything, waiting. She doesn’t need more stress, and I’m about to give her exactly that.
I push aside my worry for the tiny human girl who owns me. All that matters is my sister. She’s all that can matter.
“We need to talk,” I say, and she tenses.
“Brando thinks so too.” Her tone is light, but I can feel the anxious undercurrent in her emotions. “Why do I get the feeling I won’t like any of the conversations?”
I sit up, biting back a groan as my muscles spasm. Leaning over, I kiss her quickly on the cheek. “Because you’re extraordinarily perceptive, sweetling.”
She startles, jerking back. I’m not sure if it’s because of the kiss or the endearment, but for a moment, something flares across her psyche and her cheeks burn. Then she stands and smiles, a forced smile. “Well, let’s get it over with.”
With a sigh, I struggle to stand and follow her.
When we’re all sitting around the tiny table in the galley, Sadi finally looks at Brando. “Explain,” she says, giving him an expectant look.
He glances at me and shrugs. “Your father doesn’t trust you, Sadi. And your consort has a habit of making enemies. We thought it best to increase your security.”
Tin stirs in his seat. “Sadi has a security detail. You should have consulted me,” he says, voice low, struggling to contain his anger.
“This went over your head,” Brando answers easily.
Sadi stands, stalks over to the cabinet, and pulls out a chocolate bar. Across from me, amusement spikes in Brando and Sadi narrows her eyes at him before he can say anything. “Did it occur to either you or Daddy that I’m happy with Tin’s service, that I didn’t want him replaced?”
“Yes. But the decision was made that your feelings were less important than your safety.”
Anger flares in her before she chokes it off. “Fine,” she says evenly. “But Tin stays. I’m not having him punished because you or Daddy feel threatened.”
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 20