Prator lets me in and I follow him through the familiar halls and into Ja’s study. He looks tired, I realize, lines around his eyes, and his normally short cropped hair hangs long and dirty. Several screens are lit with projections and statistics, and an arena fight plays out on the wall behind us.
“Sit down, Brielle,” he says without looking away from the lit tablet on his desk. I glance at Prator as I sit nervously.
“I haven’t broken any rules, Ja,” I say quickly
He laughs, a noise without humor. “Tell me the truth. Has your brother tried to Speak to you?”
I blink, startled. His eyes narrow and he nods almost to himself. “I thought not. Catelyn said you haven’t Spoken, but I wanted to be sure.”
I frown and Prator says, “We received an interesting offer. Sadiene Renult-Harvine is interested in becoming a patron.”
The name sings through me, too familiar, and I look down, unsteady. “What does that have to do with me?” I ask.
“Don’t play stupid, Brielle. Kristoff told me you know where your brother is. So you know that she isn’t here as a patron, but looking for you.”
“Sir, I—”
“Shut up,” he snaps and Prator shifts, agitated. Henri takes a deep breath and expels it slowly. “This is what will happen. You and I will go to Sadi Renult and play whatever game she wants. And when asked, you will tell them you are happy, that you want nothing more than to stay in service to your jakta.”
I lick my lips and whisper, “And if I don’t?”
He doesn’t even blink. “You care for the draken. You care for Kristoff. You will obey me or I will kill them, and when I am done, I’ll kill your family, your brother, and I’ll end with you.”
The threat is delivered so evenly, without any inflection, that it makes a shiver dance down my spine. Looking into his eyes, feeling his psyche, I have absolutely no doubt he is telling the truth.
“Will you spar with me?” I ask Kristoff, interrupting his conversation with Kevan. I feel the other man’s cool disgust, but manage to ignore it. Kristoff glances at his lover and I feel his hesitation. I shake my head, backing away. “Sorry. Stay; I’m sorry.” I pause and look at Kevan. The lover who so influences Kristoff. The man I often ignore. I offer a weak smile. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”
I almost expect him to snap at me—Kevan doesn’t like me and has never made that a secret. Instead, he nods at my leg. “You think you should spar with that still healing?”
I shrug. I shouldn’t and we both know it. But I need the mind-blanking violence to clear my head, to focus on anything other than my brother.
I can’t decide if I am furious or thrilled. He’s come for me. Finally. But—my draken press against my mind, and a small voice, a voice I hate, wonders if I could leave them.
He’s here. The knowledge sings through me again, at once thrilling and terrifying, and I struggle to keep my teeth from chattering. I can feel him, a heavy presence that lurks just past my mental walls, calling to me, waiting for me. It would be easy, so easy, to lower my mental walls and feel my twin’s mind wrapped around me.
I shove my mental walls higher, fear shuddering through me. Desperate for something to drive out the presence of my brother. I turn quickly, weaving my way through the tables and the chattering bodies that fill them.
In the open air of the hall, I take a deep breath, almost choking as Juhan’s presence intensifies.
I straighten, my face empty of the fear and desperation filling me. Kevan and Kristoff have followed me and Kevan motions sharply. “Come on, then,” Kevan says.
I glance at Kristoff, who shrugs.
In the practice yard, Kevan pulls out daggers. I’m not terrible with them, but I’m not comfortable with them either. And he knows it, grinning as I fumble the daggers. “Why these?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“The Manager won’t always arm you with a hurkya and whip. You should be ready to adapt.”
He’s barely finished speaking when he launches himself at me. The speed of his attack means he’s overcommitted and I step aside. One of his daggers flashes in the sun and I feel the pressure of it pressing into my belly. He steps back. “Hard to fight with your guts falling out.”
I glare and he laughs, and we fight. I lose track of how many times I am pinned or mortally wounded, and my head and arms are screaming from the blows he lands. He doesn’t soften them in deference to my injuries, but he doesn’t target them either. Slowly, I begin to fight back, catching his blade and deflecting it, the fight lasting a little longer before he makes a move that would kill me if our blades were real. We fight until I think my arms will fall off if I lift them, until the sun and moon set and the second moon rises and Kristoff relaxes into sleep.
Eventually, Kevan dismisses me, and there is a grudging respect in his eyes as I put away my weapons and stumble to my quarters. I ignore Petyr, collapsing into my bed in exhaustion. And as it pulls me under, I realize I have forgotten about Juhan.
Chapter 30
Juhan’tr
IT’S THE LONGEST TWO days of my life.
Sadi plays endless games of Imperium and watches time tick away. We entertain Senators wondering at our presence on their planet. But mostly, we wait, and it pushes the edges of my sanity.
I’m lying in Sadi’s bed, attempting to read, the words blurring on the screen. All I can see is my sister, in chains, tortured, broken, dead. So many things could be happening to her, while I sit reading.
Sadi lowers her tablet and looks at me, expectant. “What?”
“It’s been a day and a half, Sadi. He won’t take the bait.”
She smiles, kisses my cheek. “He will. And if he doesn’t, we find another way. But he will.” I close my eyes and nod, pushing down my sigh. She looks up at me and she reaches up, touching my face. “I promise, Juhan. We’ll get her back.”
Her voice is fierce, and I touch her psyche, taste the protective edge.
For a moment, I remember her baiting her sister, drawing her anger away from her father. Her anger when she felt that Tin was slighted. Somewhere along the way, I’ve become hers. Someone she protects.
“Sadi—” I start, but the tablet blinks, a quiet alert that she has a comm link waiting. She sits up, crossing her legs beneath her and pulling up the link. Zeke smiles at her from his office, a greasy smile oozing greedy hope.
“Sadi! So good to see you.”
She arches an eyebrow at his casual use of her name but doesn’t dwell on it. Instead she says, impatiently, “I said two days. Is Henri Argot interested or should I find another arena to patronize?”
“He’s invited you to dine with him in the patrons’ club, Ms. Renult. Tomorrow afternoon, if it please you.”
Sadi pauses, and I feel a thread of nervous anticipation as she nods. “Very well.”
Zeke sags in relief and nods manically. “Excellent. I will let Argot know and he will meet you at our club tomorrow at midday. He said he is quite looking forward to meeting Sadi Renult and her Eleyi consort.”
A flare of worry in her, muffled so quickly it barely touches me and my ecstatic joy. She murmurs a goodbye and disconnects. And even though I see it in her eyes, I dismiss it, push it away in favor of the fact that my sister is almost within reach.
It’s her worry that wakes me, pulls me from a dream where Chosi and I are sleeping, hands linked, in the hammocks that hang side-by-side in our childhood bedroom. I can hear Mama, singing as she cooks lemils. I hear the soft rustle of the trees, the musical calls of the birds, and the tread of Father’s footsteps as he paces through our home, reading a tablet report and pulling on his ear.
For a moment, caught in a world so familiar it makes my heart break a little, I’m happy.
Until a sour note makes my nose wrinkle, my lips pucker. A presence like jasmine and Eleyi roots, sweet and tart, drifts through the dream, and the sour note clings to her. Sadi. I try to ignore her, ignore the call of her concern, but it coats the surface of the dream and home vanishes. It’s repl
aced by the hum of the Leen, the smooth, curved walls and thin blankets. Its daylight. I can see the soft glow of morning edging through the viewfinder as I wander the ship looking for Sadi.
She’s sitting in the galley. I’m more surprised to see Brando sitting with her, listening as she worries. For a moment, I consider going to her. Instead I quietly step away. Let Brando comfort her. It’s what they both want, even if he refuses to admit it and she clings to the shreds of our tattered story. I walk away, trying to ignore the sting in my own heart.
There is no happy ending to this lie with Sadi. I can’t let myself want one. The only happy ending that matters is my sister’s.
In the shower, water cascading around me, I reach for Chosi’le, finding her with an ease that’s almost painful. She’s nervous, and soothing something I can’t wrap my psyche around. It’s calming her almost as much as she calms it.
-Soon, sister. Today, if things go as Sadi plans. And then we go home.-
She hears me. I feel it in the surprising surge of anger in her. But she doesn’t answer.
At midday, we’re still on the Leen. I’m dressed in black again. So are Brando and Tin, and we all wait for Sadi. We’ve been waiting for almost thirty minutes. When she finally emerges from her room, she is wearing deep plum, the color that she so rarely wears, her hair falling in an intricate braid that defies the eye to follow.
She’s breathtaking and every inch a spoiled rich girl looking to patronize the gladiators.
As we walk through the streets to the arena, I wonder what sort of picture we make. What are the Pente and Others thinking as they catch sight of Sadi, her bodyguards, me with my wings outspread?
What do they see that makes them scurry from our path, and will it help us as we barter for my sister?
When we arrive, we’re expected. The screen pad flashes green for Sadi, and the AI courteously shows us to the patrons’ club.
It’s curiously empty. Does Henri Argot value his privacy so much he bought out the club for a lunch? Sadi pauses, looking around, and we both notice the large, round table at the same time. It’s set for three, a candelabra glowing with soft light. I watch the flames flicker, focusing on them, emptying my mind.
“Sadi Renult.”
The voice is familiar and not. It tugs at something in me that has been missing these past months, the part of me that will always be Chosi’s. I turn and stare at Henri Argot. I don’t know him. But my sister does.
It’s strange to be simultaneously terrified and furious. To feel the echo of her emotions again.
“Ja Argot, it’s so good to finally meet you,” Sadi says, gliding forward.
He kisses her cheek perfunctorily. His eyes skate to me, further to Brando and Tin. I feel his amusement, his lazy confidence. “Come, sit. I believe I’m making your bodyguards nervous.”
I step forward as he begins to lead Sadi to the table, taking her hand and pulling her closer to me with a gentle tug. It’s a statement, one lacking in finesse and subtlety, and I see Argot smirk. I don’t care.
Ignoring him, I guide Sadi to her seat, take the chair next to her, and lean back quietly. -Remember, let me lead,- Sadi says, and it’s not a request. Steely determination edges her psyche and I give a tiny nod.
“Zeke says you’re interested in patronizing the arena,” Henri says, sipping the sparkling water. Sadi nods, smiling. “It’s a fine establishment, to be sure.”
“I’m more interested in you,” she answers silkily and Henri smiles over the rim of his glass.
“That might be the only true thing you’ve said since arriving on Pente.”
“What makes you say that?” Sadi asks without blinking.
“Honesty, now. Tell me what the slave thinks he’ll achieve,” Henri asks, openly amused.
Sadi smiles, reaching for my hand. It’s a secretive smile, one full of promise. “Brando?”
He steps forward, handing her a small stack of papers—real parchment. Something hammers in my ears, and a flash of confusion hits me from my sister. Henri is surprised, and anything that surprises Henri is something to be avoided. I shake my head, shake Chosi’s worry.
“Juhan?” I glance at Sadi, at the paper and pen she’s holding. -Sign it,- she says and there is something broken and sad in her psyche. Wordless, I take the pen and sign. She glances at it and smiles. Slides it across the table so that Henri is staring at it.
“I believe you are familiar with manumission papers,” she says softly.
Henri shrugs, rage building in his psyche. “Not terribly familiar; I don’t often free my slaves.”
The words—or maybe the fierce stab of jealousy from my sister— penetrate, and I snatch the papers off the table, staring at them. I look at her, unable to comprehend what she’s done. Sadi is ignoring me, focused on Henri. “Now. That’s been signed and witnessed. He’s free. Moving on.”
“Eleyi can’t purchase each other,” Henri says blandly, as if Sadi freeing me is no cause for comment.
“I want to purchase her,” Sadi says coolly.
Henri laughs. “Why? You’ve never met her. Would you really buy a slave sight unseen? Seems unwise, doesn’t it?” Sadi doesn’t answer, and Argot shrugs. Claps his hands.
I feel a surge of defiance, a heartbeat of it, before it’s gone. Chosi’le has never been good at containing her emotions. Then she glides into the room from a dark hallway and everything in me stops.
She looks the same—same pale white hair standing in stylized tufts, same cocky posture as she walks to stand behind her owner. Her wings are different—blunt at the edges, long healed and irreversible. Her clothes—butter soft leather pants, a loose billowy shirt, and a coiled whip hanging at her waist—are different.
And her eyes are different—empty in a way that terrifies me.
“Chosi?” I whisper, half standing. Her eyes—cold and so lifeless—meet mine, and I see a flash of emotion that hits me like a fist to the gut and I sit down, hard.
“She is called Brielle now,” Henri says. “And she is not given leave to speak.”
I bite back a curse, and look away from the smug bastard, focusing on my sister. -Talk to me. I’m here to help you,- I plead.
She doesn’t shift, doesn’t look at me at again. Henri holds up his empty glass and she immediately slips into motion, catching the glass as it falls from his fingers, righting it and scurrying to pour water into it.
As she returns, setting the glass down with shaking hands, her eyes dart to me and I see loathing in them before she looks back to the floor and steps away.
“How much?” Sadi snaps, angry suddenly.
Henri glances back at Chosi’le and a fond smile turns his lips. “Do you know how much money my draken won last week?”
Sadie’s eyes narrow and Henri shrugs. “More than enough to run the jakta for a quarter. Or enough to add half a dozen gladiators to my stable. Why would I sell the slave who has brought such success to my jakta?”
I feel the dual emotions—fear and pride—go through my sister and something brittle in me finally breaks. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure there isn’t an arena who will welcome you. I’ll destroy every arena on Pente to keep you from fighting in them if I have to.” I stand, lean forward a little. “And then I’ll kill every glad and beast in your jakta. I’ll burn it to the ground and leave you nothing but ash. But I will take my sister.”
A flash of terror and anger from Chosi startles me, but I ignore her.
Henri studies me silently, and finally he looks over his shoulder at her. “You would do all that for a slave?” Fury ripples through me, but I nod. An odd look—pity almost—crosses his face. “Have you considered, Juhan’tr, that perhaps Brielle doesn’t want to go?”
I laugh. “Because she’d much rather be your slave?”
“Ask her,” Henri asks, waving a hand at Brielle. She steps forward and looks up. I reach for her mentally. -This isn’t what you want, Chosi. I don’t care what you say, this isn’t you. It’s not what you w
ant.-
She tilts her head, staring at me. “My name is Brielle now. And this is where I belong.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. I told you I’d come for you—it’s time to go home.”
Chosi’le shrugs, and for a moment her emotions flood me, filling me with fear and longing and rage—so much rage. “Maybe you should have thought about that months ago instead of flitting about the galaxy with your damn consort,” she snarls. “Go rescue someone who wants it, brother. Leave me alone.”
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.
Her mind floods me, so there my eyes flutter. But her words are sharp and unflinching. –I don’t care.-
Her voice echoes in my head, and it makes me shake. A girl appears in the doorway, laughing and dancing in place.
“Brielle,” Henri snaps, jerking to his feet. “You know the rules.”
She’s backing away. “It’s the only way he would accept it, Ja; I had to!”
Argot ignores her pleading and punches her, a vicious blow to her jaw that knocks her from her feet. Distantly, I hear as Sadi gives a little gasp, reaching for me, and Brando surges forward. Rage washes over me—for a heartbeat, I can’t even see past my anger.
Chosi’le’ screams as Henri kicks her, snapping me back. A blow catches her wings and as it rips, she shrieks, a high pitched sound that breaks off suddenly as she loses consciousness. The sudden absence of her psyche makes me physically violent, but I choke it down, clenching and unclenching my fists. Brando slants a glance in my direction, but he’s surprisingly still.
The room is quiet for a long moment, Henri standing over my sister’s prone body, Sadi shocked into silence.
Finally, he shakes his head a little and sighs to himself. “I thought she had finished with these little rebellions. I suppose she needs more training.” He turns and says softly, “Brielle isn’t for sale.”
Sadi is shaking with anger at my side. “You can’t beat her for talking!”
Henri looks a little surprised. “I can, actually. Brielle knows my rules. She broke one, knowing the consequences. She is my slave and I can do anything I want to her. I can execute her without cause.” His eyes slide to me and he smiles, a vicious, cold smile. “What do you think one Eleyi can do to stop me?”
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 26