Henri gives a short bark of laughter, and shakes his head. “Have you seen any other Ja have as much success with their draken? Most don’t even bother, and those who do spend more money replacing beastboys than they make in profit.”
I glance at him, startled. Am I really that important to the jakta?
“I’d like to see her for myself,” Jereth says slowly.
Argot waves a dismissive hand. “There are always games being held.”
Jereth shakes his head. “I don’t have time to wait. The Senate is looking for talented entertainers. Is your girl good enough?” Both of us are still, listening. Waiting. Jereth smiles, a tight smile that is full of predatory knowledge. “You’re a betting man, Ja.”
Argot smiles faintly in answer.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Henri. Put your girl on the sands before I leave and I will owe you a favor. And if she is everything you say she is, I want you to listen to my proposition. And agree to consider it.”
I can feel the sudden wash of excitement sweeping over the Ja as he lazily lifts his glass. I step forward, carefully pouring more kechei and he sips it, not answering.
When the Senator begins to fidget, he sets his glass down and arches an eyebrow. “I will, of course, give the Senate’s wishes due consideration.”
Jereth grimaces, swallows the last of his kechei and stands. His eyes come over me, sweeping and calculating, and I force myself not to fidget, not to step away from him. A smile turns his lips and he glances again at the Ja. “It’s a good opportunity for you.”
Henri inclines his head, and Jereth turns. An AI waits for him when the door glides open. I watch as he leaves.
In the sudden absence, I’m unsure what is to be expected of me. “Send Zeke to me,” Henri says quietly. “Leave the kechei and go. You’re dismissed for the night.”
I hesitate, but go.
Chapter 28
Juhan’tr
“I WANT TO do this with the least resistance possible,” Sadi says, tapping a finger against the control panel.
“Then you should stay here,” Brando says.
“We’ll need her name to open the doors of the jakta.” The bodyguards twist to glare at me and I shrug. “Sorry.”
“Sadi, it’s not safe,” Tin says.
She smiles, squeezing his hand a little. “It’s all right. At this point, they’ve recognized the Leen; they know I’m here. You kept me from being shot at the auction houses. You’ll manage here.”
Tin flushes, a nervous glance at Brando. He frowns at them and Sadi turns. “Let them know we’re coming. And that we’d like to see the jakta and Producers.” She turns to me, a challenging smile on her lips. “You ready to go get Chosi’le?”
I nod and she stands, assessing me. “Change your clothes,” she says. “Black would be good.” Brando laughs at that and she gives him a dark look. “You wear it all the time,” she snaps.
“I’m a bodyguard with a death count. Your toy isn’t.”
That isn’t exactly true.
For the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long, I deliberately let my emotions wash outward, watch Brando stiffen, Sadi shiver. When they look at me, I smile an icy smile. “I’m not you. I’m not a haj. But I’m also not something you want to overlook simply because my race is known for its passive nature.”
Brando nods, a flicker of amused admiration sliding over his psyche, and then he steps aside and I go get dressed.
It’s harder to fool myself.
I stare at myself thirty minutes later, and I don’t recognize the Eleyi staring back. My hair has grown long and sleek, my bright eyes hard. The black synthetic leather hugs my legs, my vest hanging open, my wide, jeweled wings spread behind me. A blade hangs at my waist, another tucked into my ankle-high boots.
I glance again at the mirror, and Kentra’s words echo in my mind. For the first time, it makes me smile. She was right—I’m not the same.
I’m dangerous, something Eleyi have never been.
Instinctively, I reach for Chosi’le. Her presence swims up in my mind, so there I stagger, almost falling. It’s different. It’s like touching a foreign mind, almost Other. She ignores me, anger rolling off her in waves. I shudder and almost pull away. -I’m here now, Chosi. I’m not leaving without you.-
I feel her psyche flicker silently, before she’s gone again.
Brando is on the bridge, navigating the Leen into the landing bay. I join him and look through the viewfinder, staring at the sprawling city of Hubri rising up from the desert.
“Do they know we’re coming?” I ask and he laughs, a humorless noise.
“Oh, yeah. They know. The IPS Senator is meeting us,” Sadi says from behind me, and I turn to look at her. She’s similarly dressed, black on black, wearing the boots with her family crest. Her pale skin is startling against the darkness of her clothes and hair. “But if we move our asses, we can probably avoid him until we return to the Leen.”
Brando accelerates slightly and she smiles, tiny and satisfied, as we race toward the landing bay.
There is a moment, as we disembark, that I worry we haven’t moved fast enough and we’ll be delayed by a government official. I can feel the thoughts of an entourage, intent and dedicated as they head toward us. I yank on Sadi’s arm, pulling her into a dirty alley. Tin, a few steps ahead, pauses by a fruit cart, his face turned away as the party hurries pass.
Sadi watches them go, and then smiles up at me. “Let’s find Henri Argot’s jakta.”
Henri Argot. He sounds so unassuming. Not the name of a man who runs one of fastest growing jaktas on Pente. Not the name of the man who owns my sister.
A humanoid child is staring at us, his eyes wide and suspicious.
I grin at him, wrapping a calming psychic thread around him. “Want to earn a cred?” His eyes brighten and he nods eagerly. “Take us to the blood arena the Argot jakta fights in.”
The boy’s eyes narrow. “Is this a joke?”
I shake my head and the boy snatches the cred from my hand before he wheels and darts into the road. Clutching Sadi’s hand tightly, I follow him.
We take three turns before the boy trots up to a massive arena that towers above us. It has the classic lines of all Pente arenas—curves and arches and airy buttress that defy the bloody, brutal games it houses. A fairytale home for a nightmare.
“This is where Argot’s glads fought last. But he won’t be back for several weeks.”
Fury surges through me and Sadi glances at me, a nervous look. -Calm down. We can go to his jakta, but let’s talk to the arena manager first.-
I swallow hard and nod. The boy, sensing no more money forthcoming, darts back into the street.
All around us, Pente and Others mingle and robotic AI drone odds for fights while their Pente counterparts shout above them. I can feel a headache building, but I can also feel Chosi. Wherever she is, it is close enough for her psyche to twist around me, a barbed welcome.
Sadi straightens and beckons to Tin, who pushes through the crowd to the arena entrance. When we reach the closed door, she presses her palm to the keypad and it blinks an uncertain orange. But the door glides open. The entry is a long, dim hall with holograms of the arena’s champions. A soft murmur comes from down the hall—the patron’s club, where the most expensive betting is done and influential spectators gather and eat with fighters of their choice.
“Where is the arena manager?” Sadi asks the small autobot AI that rolls up to us silently.
“Follow me, please.”
Tin ushers Sadi before him. I’m conscious of his tense presence padding along behind us as we follow the AI into a darker hall, toward a young Pente male who frowns. “They don’t have an appointment.”
The AI says, “Sadiene Renult of New Earth.”
His frown deepens as he stares at us. “The arena is clean. Our slaves are legal, and their contracts are honored.”
It startles her, but she doesn’t miss a step as she smiles coolly at him. “Perhaps
you should mind the door and let the manager worry about why I’m here.”
He scowls but taps a quick command into the tablet on his wrist. A short whispered conversation later, and he grudgingly opens the impressive doors behind him.
The arena manager smiles as we enter, wrinkles crinkling around the edges of his eyes. “Ms. Renult! What can I do for you?” He extends a hand. “I’m Zeke Pallen, by the way.”
Sadi smiles, sitting neatly in the chair across from Zeke as Tin and I flank her. “You have a gorgeous arena, Zeke.”
He preens. “It’s the most modern facility on Pente.”
I nudge Sadi. -Ask him.-
Irritation flares in her for a moment, then is gone, and she smiles at Zeke. “I’m sure it is amazing, and I look forward to attending an exhibit. But I’m actually here on business.”
He nods, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a jakta. The one owned by Henri Argot.”
Zeke laughs. “So are half the free fighters on Pente.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
Zeke glances up at me, then flicks an appraising look at Sadi. “My consort, Juhan’tr,” she says shortly. “What does it mean?”
“Argot is private, almost obsessively so. And he’s ridiculously protective of his gladiators. He allows no visitors to the jakta, and very few know its location. He wants them focused.” Zeke pauses. “You could wait until his next fights.”
-Ask him to meet us here,- I tell her, not bothering to keep the desperation from my voice. I’ve waited a long time—too long—and the idea of waiting weeks more is repulsive.
Sadi smiles, a brilliant smile that I’ve seen her use so many times. It’s the same smile she used on the IPS, on the whore queen, even on her father. On the Yalten queen in the auction house.
The smile that tells me she has no intention of losing this game.
“Will Argot meet patrons here?” Sadi asks, her voice silky.
The manager hesitates and I feel greed flare in his psyche, the prospect of a patron enough to intrigue him. Finally, he nods, a slight assent. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Sadi smiles, standing and looping an arm in mine. “Excellent. I’m staying on the Leen, and I will wait two days before I take my patronage elsewhere.”
-What are you doing?- I shout, but she ignores me, and I’m forced to follow her as she sweeps out of the manager’s office. He calls from the doorway, “Would you like a tour of the arena, lady?”
She hesitates, but I can feel her emotions, the adrenaline and excitement. Sadi is playing her favorite game. “No. Perhaps after I’ve met with Argot. Until then, why bother?”
I wait until we’re out of the arena, past the gambling stalls, well on our way to the Leen before I jerk her to a halt, stopping and catching her arm so suddenly that she is snapped around. I feel the aggression rising off of Tinex in hostile waves, but ignore him, focusing on Sadi and the satisfied smirk on her face.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sadi?” I snap. “You can’t threaten him! That bastard is holding my sister.”
She shakes off my grip and her smile grows, a tiny bit. “You’re wrong, Juhan. I’m Sadiene Renult-Harvine. I can threaten whomever I damn well please. But even if that weren’t true, this is: Argot is a man looking for a profit. Do you know the patronage fees on Pente?”
I shake my head and her eyes glitter with malicious amusement, “Thirty-five percent of a patron’s gift to the arena is given to the jakta he favors. Thirty-five percent. Argot might be secretive and hidden, but he’s a business man. One thing will make him come running from his hills. And that’s just been dangled in front of him.”
Chapter 29
Chosi’le
“Are you ready?” Kristoff asks, glancing at the tablet display he’s holding.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye as the hovercraft sets down. I can feel the murmur of the jakta, the familiar minds tugging at me. “Of course,” I say and it’s true. I am more than ready to be out of the medhall that offers no distractions from my thoughts, away from the patrons and their oily smiles.
If I can’t fight, I want to be with my draken.
I stare at my friend. Since the night the Ja dined with the Senator, Kristoff has been oddly reticent, not himself. I want to press him, find out what is on his mind, but I’m also terrified of finding out. So I bite my lip, let a wash of warmth cover him, and stand. He smiles at me as we touch down.
Ja Argot strides past us, descending the ramp almost before it has fully extended. I glance again at Kristoff, who watches the receding back of our owner with a pensive look.
“Kristoff? I have to go,” I say gently and it jars him from his thoughts.
We part ways at the dormitory, and I keep my head ducked as I weave my way through the glads and servants, making my way to the back of the jakta where my draken wait.
Petyr comes out of my rooms as I approach and I bite down the anger that swells in me. Instead, I nod at the cave. “How are they?”
“Listless. They miss you.”
I smile at that and nod. “Bring my dinner back to the rooms. I’m going to them.”
A mind touches my own, a familiar light touch that is so close I look up involuntarily. Why is he here?
Petyr’s eyes narrow at me and I push past him, slipping into the cave.
The mental touch of the draken covers me, so heavy and unexpected I stumble, seeing the cave from Miwya’s perch before I blink and my vision goes normal.
I can’t feel Juhan anymore—only the excitement building in the draken waiting for me.
Miwya trumpets when I skid around the corner, and Natsu screeches a wordless greeting, their wild joy engulfing me as a plume of fire fills the cave, scorching the air. I laugh, unaware for a moment that I am crying until Sora nuzzles my face and I feel my tears smear on his face. Hintu crowds as close as possible with Sora and Natsu pressed so close, and I can feel the warmth of Miwya’s gaze and mind, a softly glowing coal in the back of my mind.
And something else. I look past Natsu, seeing the coppery gaze of Meinia on me.
It takes a moment, and a gentle exertion of my will, but finally I step free of the crush and approach him. His eyes are chilly and hostile and I realize he may never fully trust me.
And I deserve it.
-I’m not leaving,- I say, pushing that thought away. His eyes narrow a fraction. -I have thought of suicide—you were right. But I will not kill myself—not when so many depend on me.-
Meinia shifts and I feel his reservation, but he inclines his head gracefully. -Welcome home, little Le,- he says, a deep rumble in my head.
I visit the medhall and let Jenalle check my wounds. She frowns as she examines them, humming softly under her breath. It’s still sore, tender to the touch, but I’m tired of limited activity. I want to train again, to fight again. I lie still under her prodding, struggling not to wince.
“You’ll scar,” she says finally, stepping back and motioning for me to sit up. “And I’d really like you to rest for another week.” I roll my eyes and she laughs. “I know it’s unlikely. But you are my patient and I can have my little dreams, can’t I?”
“As long as you know it’s not happening and that I’m going to fight as soon as Argot allows me to, sure. Hold onto those dreams.”
The door to the medhall slides open and Catelyn stalks in, her face twisted in anger. Jenalle’s expression closes off, and her anger washes over me before she puts up her mental walls.
“Unless you’re dying, leave,” she snaps, and I jerk around to stare at her. This is more than the casual brusque manner I’ve come to expect in the medic. This is true animosity, a deep-seated dislike.
Catelyn ignores it. “Ja Argot requests your presence,” she says, her voice and face twisting on the word “requests” as if she’s eaten something sour.
Jenalle smirks. “Feeling threatened, Catelyn?”
Catelyn’s expression
tightens before she can stop it and she forces a laugh. “By a beastboy? Hardly.”
Jenalle grins. “A beastboy who has won the hearts of the crowds and brought money back into the jakta.” She pauses and then: “I heard an interesting rumor about the Ja and the ‘beastboy’.”
Catelyn’s eyes narrow dangerously and she looks at me. “He wants you. Now.”
I nod, tugging my pants back on and buttoning them quickly. A disgusted note fills Catelyn’s mind for a moment, but she turns away, vanishing now that her message is delivered.
“Brielle,” Jenalle says as I stand and walk toward the door, “be careful. The jakta is not as secure as it seems and the more the crowd loves you, the more you will be hated here.”
I shrug. “No one can touch me without angering Henri. I’m too valuable.”
“Things change. There is little in the jakta to fight for—patronage and the eye of the Ja’s brother are some of those things. And you have both,” Jenalle says and waves me away. I take my dismissal and leave the medhall, heading to the Ja’s building.
I can hear Prator and Argot arguing before I reach the house. The balcony door is open and their voices carry in the quiet evening air.
“Damnit, Henri; it’s not an opportunity we can afford to turn down,” Prator says, his voice uneven with anger.
“I have no desire to be a tool of the Senate, brother,” Argot answers.
Prator hisses in frustration, “Will you at least let her fight? What they offer could change everything for us.”
“Enough. I won’t decide now. Not until I’ve dealt with the Eleyi and his consort,” Henri says abruptly and Prator sighs.
I rub my head, trying to ignore the headache that has been building since we returned to the jakta two days ago. The brothers are speaking too quietly for me to hear now, so I continue up to the house.
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 25