Into the Black

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Into the Black Page 25

by Ava Jae


  I nod. I pinch the bridge of my nose and I try not to feel, but this is real. I might be dead in a set.

  “Thank you.” The words are tight and shake on my whisper. “I don’t know why you’re … but thank you.”

  “Because I care about you both,” Deimos says. “And because you both deserve so much more than Kala’s handed you. I may not be able to change the world alone, but I can make his easier, and if things don’t go well …” He grimaces. “If things don’t go well, I can only hope keeping him safe will be enough.”

  I run a hand through my sweaty, wet hair and inhale deeply. “Have you seen him fight?”

  “Lejv? Naï, but at the very least he’s not as physically prepared as you. Of the eight sets you’ve been here, I’ve only seen him run once, so I’d guess his endurance isn’t as refined as yours. If he turns out to be a good fighter, you can outlast him if you’re smart.”

  I nod. “Is it likely he’s a good fighter?”

  Deimos hesitates. “It’s … not unlikely. I’m sure you’ve noticed most Sepharon take care of themselves—the fourth tenant—”

  “To take care of the body Kala gave you, shae, I remember.”

  Deimos nods. “And most Sepharon royalty I’ve met—the men, at least—have done some time with their territory’s guard. And those men are all skilled at hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Great,” I mutter.

  “But it’s not a guarantee. Maybe Kala will smile on us and Lejv won’t be as skilled at fighting as many royal men are.”

  I look at him skeptically. “Because Kala’s been so nice to me, so far.”

  “Well.” Deimos laughs weakly. “Still worth hoping, isn’t it? Hoping while planning for the worst.”

  Hoping while planning for the worst should be my life’s motto. “I’m assuming they know I can fight.”

  “Everyone knows you were Kora’s bodyguard before you came here, which obviously requires a very particular skill set.”

  “Right.” I shake my head. “So I’m going to walk out there blind and he’ll already know what to expect.”

  “Naï, you’ll walk out there expecting him to be a master of fighting arts, and if you’re wrong, all the better.”

  I sigh, fighting off the edges of a brainblaze pressuring my skull. “Can I ask you a random question?”

  “Right now?” Deimos laughs. “Need a break from heavy topics?”

  “I do.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “How did you become a bounty hunter?”

  “Ah.” Deimos smiles, and something about the amused twist of his lips is catching—I find myself mirroring a ghost of his grin. “Well. Fortunately, all of my elder brothers took the boring, official jobs—you know, future ruler, medic, priest, captain of the guard, diplomat, that sort of thing. So I wasn’t pressured to do anything but show up at official events and be my naturally charming self.”

  I smirk. “Naturally.”

  “Don’t tell me you disagree—it’d break my heart.”

  I glance at him, and my smile breaks into a grin because he’s pouting ridiculously. “I don’t disagree. You’re …” Deimos is a lot of things: addictive, unfairly handsome, hilarious, magnetic. He’s the guy friend I’ve never had—the prince who went out of his way to help me when he didn’t have to, who has woven himself into so much of my life that I don’t want to imagine a set without him. He makes me happy when I shouldn’t be and hovers in my thoughts long after we’ve said good night.

  But I go with the word least likely to tempt me to spill my every thought about him: “captivating.”

  “Captivating.” Deimos grins and my face warms, despite myself. “I like it. As I was saying, I more or less could be anything I wanted, and I knew I wanted to travel and have an exciting job, and also, I’d learned early on I was a talented fighter. I didn’t immediately know how to combine those into a job, however, so I began with traveling. I went all over—up north to Inara and then around Ona and Elja. I saw the endless ocean on the Northern and Southern shores, the peaks of Daïvi, and Invino, and even spent some time in Sekka’l though that was … less enjoyable. And then, during my travels, I was cornered by two, shall we say, unsavory individuals? But they underestimated me, and I subdued them and brought them to the authorities—who then paid me for my service, and thus the idea was born.”

  I laugh. “That’s incredible.”

  Deimos beams. “Why thank you. You’re rather incredible yourself.” And now I’m blushing again, which must encourage him, because he leans closer and smiles conspiratorially. My heart pounds at his nearness and my skin prickles—I can almost taste his breath, he’s so close.

  “You know I mean it, shae?” he says. “I really admire you. You’re truly one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, and I’m honored to call you my friend.” He hesitates. “And … sometime after you’ve won the match and your life isn’t in immediate danger, maybe we can be something more?”

  My heart beats harder at his words. Something more could mean a lot of things: closer friends, maybe, or maybe he means … could he be hinting at something romantic? I don’t think I’m reading too much into it—he’s been flirty practically since the moment we met. And I’m not completely sure which he’s trying to say, but the way he’s biting his lip and looking at me makes me think it could be the latter. Maybe.

  Of course, I’ve never had a guy show this kinduv interest before—stars, I’ve never known a guy who wasn’t family who didn’t think of me as lesser. Until Deimos, I avoided other men and boys for my own safety, as much as I wished it could be different. So I don’t know how this kinduv relationship starts—how two guys decide they want to be more than friends. But whatever Deimos means, I want to try.

  He’s not asking for now, because this timing is obviously fucked. But this open-ended potential for something more sounds like exactly what I need right now: something purely good to hope for.

  “Shae,” I say, adopting his word with a smile. “I’d like that.”

  Deimos’s face lights up like a sunrise, and he stands and offers me his hand. “Well, we’ve had a break enough, shae? Ready for round five?”

  Mal wants to walk around the grounds with me—just me—so Deimos goes off to relax or whatever while I take Mal’s shoulder and we wander. He walks the halls expertly, his fingertips just grazing the smooth walls as we move, his head held high and proud. I smile. It’s good to see him confident like this, even in a place where people like him aren’t usually welcome.

  I can’t say for sure one way or the other, but seeing how the servants were always Sepharon here, Mal may be the first human to walk these halls.

  “So where are you taking me?” I ask.

  “Garden,” Mal answers. “I found it a couple sets after we got here. I like it. There aren’t usually a lot of people there and it sounds really calming. Smells good, too. I’ve been hanging out there when you and Deimos are gone and no one bothers me.”

  “Good. You know if you ever have an issue—”

  “I’ll tell you and Deimos. I know, but it’s okay—I think most people would rather just pretend I don’t exist.” He shrugs. “Works for me.”

  We step off polished stone onto the gritty, white sand. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the roughness of the desert here. I miss the blanket-soft red powder of home.

  Outside, Mal switches to my other side so he can keep his hand against the wall as we turn right. It’s opposite the direction I usually go in, since Deimos and I usually run in town, but I think the courtyard is somewhere this way. The reflection of the suns off the sand makes it feel twice as hot. I don’t mind it, though—I know heat like I know air.

  We walk next to the pathway so Mal can use the walls as his guide. It’s quiet back here, mostly empty except for the ever-present guards standing at attention every couple measures. The polished black and gold stone pathway is bordered by silver trees with gold and bronze leaves, shiny and almost metallic. They remind me almost
of the trees back in Elja, except those were white with silver leaves, and these look like they were made entirely from flakes of precious metals. Everything here is perfectly spaced out and organized—there aren’t even any random plants and brush back here, like you see spread over the sands.

  Eventually we turn a corner beside a path bordered with more of those metallic-y trees, but spaced out between flowers and decorative bush-things. The flowers are bright colors—purples, blues, greens, oranges, reds—and the bushes are striped with white and a blue so deep it looks black. And Mal is right, the air is sweeter back here, almost fruity.

  In the center of the garden is another fountain, but this one is unusual. The center of the fountain looks like one of those silver trees—except carved of completely white stone. Water pours off it into the large white base below, and the whole thing is carved to look like—I think it’s supposed to be Asheron. Maybe it’s supposed to mean something.

  Mal and I sit on a stone bench opposite the fountain and I nearly leap out of my skin—we’re not alone. I mean, we’re never alone because the guards are everywhere, but sitting on a bench on the other side of the fountain isn’t a guard.

  It’s Lejv.

  “What do you think?” Mal asks, and Lejv looks up, I guess noticing us for the first time, too. It’s all I can do to keep my voice calm as my heart beats a little harder. I’m not afraid of him—it’s not like he’s going to attack me in broad sunlight—but relaxing is hard when I’ve got a living reminder of what I have to do tomorrow sitting just paces away.

  But Mal doesn’t know Lejv is here. He can’t see him.

  “It’s nice,” I say. “I see what you mean about it smelling good.”

  Mal nods. “I like the running water sound, too. I’ve fallen asleep out here a couple times.” He laughs, and even with the guy I’m supposed to kill tomorrow watching us across the way, hearing Mal laugh is enough to make me smile, just a little. It’s good he can find something to laugh about today. Stars know I wish I could.

  Lejv stands and starts crossing the garden toward us. I stiffen, and Mal must feel it because he lowers his voice and asks, “Are you okay?”

  “It’s fine,” I answer quietly. “We’re just not alone.”

  Mal sits up straight just as Lejv rounds the fountain and nods at me. “We’ve never really been formally acquainted.”

  Formally acquainted? I guess he means we never introduced ourselves to each other, which, no, was pretty unnecessary given everything. I know who he is, and he knows who I am. What do we need a formal introduction for?

  “Guess not,” I answer carefully.

  “You must be Mal.” Lejv smiles at my nephew. “I’ve heard you enjoy exploring the palace grounds.”

  My eyes narrow. Why are people gossiping about Mal? Should Deimos and I have been more careful with him? Should I have asked him to stay in my room? It didn’t seem right making him more of a prisoner than he already is here, but I’m not sure I like that people have been talking about him, either.

  Though I guess they’d probably talk about him if he were locked in my room, too.

  “Sha.” Mal raises his chin. “You must be Lejv. I’ve heard you’re going to try to kill my uncle tomorrow.”

  I choke on words as Lejv’s eyes widen. He glances at me then laughs uncertainly. Mal just smiles.

  “Ah, well … there is a match tomorrow, unfortunately, sha.”

  Unfortunately. Does he mean that, or is he just being polite because Mal is here? I think I’d rather he didn’t mean it. I’d rather he wanted me dead, because it’s going to be hard enough to fight to the death without either of us having second thoughts. Not that either of us have a choice anyway.

  Lejv turns to me. “I wanted to say I’m … sorry for the way this has unfolded. When Ashen came to me and suggested I was the next in line to take the throne, I never imagined it would come to this. I’m …” He hesitates. “I’m not sure I would have agreed to claim my blood right had I known it would end like this.”

  What is he trying to say? Is he just coming forward because he’s afraid he’ll lose? Did he actually imagine I’d roll over and let him take the throne without a fight? Or maybe he thought I wouldn’t attempt to claim my birthright at all—which, I mean, I didn’t even know I was going to at first but … why would he say that now?

  “If you really think that then maybe you should bow out,” I answer.

  Lejv presses his lips together. “I think we both know I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” I stand. “I don’t love the idea of fighting to the death over the throne either, but I never imagined they were just going to give it to me, and I’m prepared to do what I have to. If you don’t want to fight, then don’t. You know my claim is stronger than yours. Walk away.”

  Lejv’s face shutters and he looks me in the eye. “I’m not walking away, and I’m not afraid to fight you, Eros. I, too, am prepared to do what I must.” He shakes his head and turns away. “I just wish I didn’t have to.”

  We eat our evening meal in my room. There’s no point trying to make nice, not anymore—not when we’ll be killing each other in a set. And not when we’ve made it clear neither of us are walking away.

  Still, what Lejv said hangs in my head, an unwanted echo. It was easy to imagine having to kill someone who wanted me dead, who was happy to fight. It’s another thing entirely to know he’s just as reluctant as I am to go out there. To know he doesn’t want to fight either.

  To know it doesn’t matter what we want, because tomorrow we’ll fight to finally end this anyway.

  Mal is uncharacteristically quiet. He sits so close to me our hips are touching, and he barely eats the stew and flat noodle mix of tonight’s dinner.

  I nudge him with my elbow and nod at his bowl. “You should eat. It’s good—a lot of meat and vegetables in there.”

  Mal stares at his bowl. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Too many snacks?” Deimos asks, but we both know the answer—the plate we left him to snack on throughout the day is still full of pastries and fruit. It doesn’t look like he touched it at all.

  “I don’t want you to fight,” Mal says.

  My stomach sinks. I put my arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer. “I’ll be fine,” I say with confidence I don’t have. “You know how well trained I am—you’ve seen …” My chest aches—I almost said you’ve seen me spar with your dad. I try again. “You’ve seen my training. You know I can fight.”

  “Yeah,” Mal says, switching to English. “But so can all the Sepharon. That’s, like, the first lesson in camp guard training—expect all the Sepharon can and will kill you. They’ve been just as trained as you are—maybe even more.”

  Deimos looks at me questioningly. I grimace. “It’s true he’s probably trained,” I answer in Sephari, “but I’ve killed Sepharon men before. If anything, I have better odds than I’ve had before—I’m only fighting one man this time. All I have to do is beat him and this will be all over.”

  Mal stares at our food. I sigh and hug him. “I can’t promise I’ll be fine; the truth is I don’t know how well he is or isn’t trained. But I’m as prepared as I can be, and I’ll fight for us both. My chances are good—in a way, I’ve been prepping for this my whole life.”

  “And,” Deimos adds, “on the off-chance things don’t go our way, you won’t be alone. I’ve already told Eros I’ll take care of you if anything happens. I’ll make sure you grow up free, and healthy—and kafra, I have a very nice home, if I say so myself.” Deimos smiles and Mal frowns at him.

  “Don’t you live in the palace in A’Sharo?”

  Deimos laughs. “I did, but naï, I got my own place on my fifteenth lifecycle celebration. And it’s a great place, with a swimming center, and privacy, and a view of the mountains—and there’s more than enough room for us both.”

  Mal nods and looks at his food again.

  “Either way, you’ll be taken care of,” I say. “So don’t worry, shae? We’re r
eady for every possibility.”

  “I’m not,” he says softly. “I don’t want to be prepared for the possibility where you’re dead, too.”

  I bite my lip. My breath shakes as it slips from my lips. “I don’t want to be, either.”

  When Mal squints up at me again, his eyes are teary. “Just swear you’ll fight your hardest.”

  I don’t hesitate—not for a breath. “I swear. You have my word.”

  And so we eat in silence. And I don’t think about how tomorrow, my morning meal may be my last.

  I don’t.

  Standing in front of Dima’s bedroom door the next set, an echo of another time washes over me. A time when Eros was at my side, and I was covered in a layer of sand from going out into Vejla for the first time in too long, and I was angry Dima never respected my privacy by announcing his entrance before bursting into my room time and time again, so I did the same to him.

  I walked into his room without announcement or invitation, and I found him in bed with Jarek.

  The echo twists painfully inside me—not because seeing my brother romantically entangled with his closest friend was in any way hurtful, but because my violating their privacy hurt Dima. More than hurt—it ripped him apart. I’d never caused him so much pain, not like that, and though it wasn’t my intention, intentions don’t matter when you’ve hurt someone. And it was too late to take it back.

  This time, I knock and announce myself. “Dima, it’s me. May I enter?”

  A shuffling sound and the low murmur of voices leaks under the door before it slides open. Jarek nods me inside, respectfully lowering his head as I enter.

  Dima lowers his head, as well, and it shouldn’t be, but the gesture coming from him looks so foreign. I’d never seen my brother show me genuine respect—every bow and murmur of my title was once infused with bitterness and rage.

  But this, this is quiet. Humble. Real.

  “It’s good to see you,” I say to my brother. “I thought I’d confirm you’re doing well.”

 

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