“Get going,” Rhone said angrily. There was kindness, and then there was idiocy.
The man nodded. “All right then. You’re sure?”
Hadn’t he said so? Rhone waved the man off, and he ran back to his sled and shouted to his dogs as the next sled and team came over the third rise. Rhone didn’t watch to see who would win the battle to get through the next bottleneck.
Leo whined again, and Rhone sighed heavily. Leaving the injured dog, he righted the sled and dug in the snow anchor. They only had one footboard left. The other one sat askew. Rhone kicked it off and chucked the piece in the sled. That explained the crack.
No workable sled, no end of the race.
“How did that come off?” Monikah asked him.
He checked the sled each day. “Just happens sometimes.”
Rhone cleared a space in the cargo bed and went back to unhook Leo, stooping to pick up the dog. He murmured softly, lowering him into the sled. Leo tried to get up.
“Stay boy, stay.” He grabbed a blanket and covered the dog.
A sled dog couldn’t survive with only two legs. He’d have to put Leo down as soon as they got back. Rhone took a steadying breath, and turned his attention toward straightening the rest of the line. He took Fyda, one of his swing dogs, and clipped her at the front, leaving his second swing dog behind.
He took one dog at a time from Monikah, and clipped them back on until all of the team were in their places along the line.
Rhone ignored two more sledders going by, and they ignored him.
“Do we keep going?” Monikah asked.
He wouldn’t win now. He just wanted to put Leo out of his misery. “No, we’ll turn back. We’ve lost now. And Leo will be in pain for longer if we continue.”
Monikah rested a hand on his arm and the simple touch nearly undid him. He’d had many dogs over the years, but Leo was his favorite by far. “I’m so sorry, Rhone,” she whispered. “What will happen to him?”
“I’ll have to kill him,” Rhone said hoarsely. In response to her shocked look, he added, “He won’t be able to move; leaving him alive is cruel.”
Her eyes welled up as she whispered, “I understand.”
Rhone turned away from her, pointing at the footboard. “I’m going to get you to hop into the cargo bed with Leo. There’s only one footboard, and we don’t need to worry about speed now.”
She nodded, heading to the sled to make space. The Ire woman eased in behind Leo without disturbing him. Rhone froze, leaning over the bar, ready for her to jerk back as she reached out a hand to stroke Leo’s head. But the dog didn’t bite her, allowing the gentle attention.
“Hike,” Rhone called to his team with a heavy heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rhone directed his team into the courtyard, before softly calling for them to slow. They were tired and lay down immediately so he didn’t bother with the anchor.
Gyn came out, lantern swinging. “What happened?”
“Leo’s injured,” Rhone answered.
The man hurried to the sled.
“Careful,” Rhone said. “Monikah’s sleeping.” She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep a few hours ago.
Gyn swore under his breath as he inspected Leo, and when the kennel master stood, his face was shining wet in the firelight. “That’s the end of him.”
“Yes,” Rhone said hoarsely. “Could you take in the other dogs?”
The kennel master nodded. “I’ll give them food and water, too. You just see to Leo.”
Rhone took off his heavy coat, and returned to the sled with dragging steps. He tucked the warm garment around Monikah, and then stooped to pick up Leo. Monikah sighed, and settled again after a few seconds. Rhone wouldn’t be long.
Leo licked his face as Rhone took him inside and set him down in a large, empty stall. “You’re okay, boy. You did well,” Rhone whispered, stroking his gray-and-white fur before leaning down to hug the dog close.
Sitting back on his heels, Rhone stared at the dog.
“Will you do it tonight?” Gyn asked.
Doing so would be kinder, but Rhone just wanted one more night to prepare himself to say goodbye. “Put some willowbark in his water to help him rest. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”
Gyn remained silent and then said, “I’ll do that. He was a good dog, that one.”
Yes, he was.
Rhone gave Leo a final pat and returned to the sled to gather Monikah in his arms. “Could you put away the sled, Gyn? I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
The kennel master whistled. “Broken footboard. That explains it. Can’t predict that going.”
The knot in his chest eased for knowing Gyn didn’t blame him for Leo’s condition. Rhone grunted and readjusted Monikah in his arms before crossing the courtyard to climb the steps into the castle. He carried her faintly snoring form up the stairs and bypassed her room, kicking open the door to his chamber instead.
He laid the slumbering woman in the furs and removed her boots and heavy sledding clothes. She woke briefly as he removed her goggles. “Leo?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said, realizing he still wore goggles, too.
She nodded and stretched out her hand before sinking into sleep again.
Rhone took his time removing his clothing. He washed his face at the small basin, and then sat in the chair by the empty fireplace, staring vacantly for a long time before slipping under the furs and gathering Monikah close.
He should’ve gone to the kennel first thing, and Rhone knew if he stalled too much longer, Gyn would take killing Leo into his own hands. When he awoke, Monikah had disappeared, and Rhone had seized the opportunity to procrastinate and track her down first.
“Where’s Monikah?” he asked his usual table of friends.
They shared worried glances and no one answered.
“Is she with Adnan in his den?” he asked.
Jacky replied, “Yes, but don’t sulk about it this time.”
Right, they all still thought he’d gone off in a jealous rage. Rhone didn’t bother correcting them; he walked to the throne table instead, where he bowed to the king and queen.
“You didn’t win,” Jovan said.
Rhone shook his head.
Olina searched him. “What is it? What happened?”
“Footboard broke,” he answered, tensing.
“Rhone!”
He turned at Monikah’s urgent voice. She ran to him through the food hall, goggles pushed up on her forehead, making her shining hair bunch in an odd way. His heart squeezed at the sight of her.
The Ire woman’s green eyes were blazing. She gripped his arm.
“You don’t have to kill Leo.”
Rhone winced.
“What do you mean, kill Leo?” the king demanded.
Monikah waved a hand at Jovan and kept her eyes on Rhone. “You don’t have to kill him.”
Rhone rested a hand over hers. “Monikah, I know it’s hard to accept, but killing him is a mercy.”
“No,” she said, face hardening. “Me and Adnan made something. You’ll see.”
“I’m going to put Leo down now.”
“Too late.”
Rhone glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean, too late?”
“Sadra is operating on him,” Monikah announced. “She’s taking his back legs off.”
He froze, horrified. “Why the fuck would she do that?”
The urchin glanced behind him. “So he can fit in this.” She hurried past to where Adnan was walking toward them, a wooden contraption in his arms. Monikah took the load from him and hurried back, setting the odd thing at Rhone’s feet.
She pointed to a small flat area of wood in the middle of two wheels. “His butt goes here.” She scooped up some rope. “We tie the wheels to him, and then he can roll himself around using his front legs.”
Rhone stared at the tiny wooden cart.
“Monikah will have to adjust the design once Leo gets in, but the theory is sound,”
Adnan put in.
“He’ll be able to move around?” Rhone whispered. He crouched down and held the flat platform up, rolling the dog-sized wheels back and forth.
“Yes,” Monikah said. “He’ll need time for his wounds to heal before trying it, though.”
Rhone carefully placed the invention down. “You got up early to do this?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I knew if my idea would work.”
His throat constricted and he leaned over in a crouch and pulled Monikah into his arms. “Thank you, urchin,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you so very much. I thought I’d have to kill him.”
Monikah returned his hug, and he felt her cheeks pushing up into a smile against his shoulder. He pulled back and kissed her cheek.
A throat cleared.
“That’s all the thanks I get?” she asked him. “I thought you said I was beautiful.”
“You are,” he said, never more serious. “You’re all I see.”
Rhone crushed his mouth against hers, giving in to the burning inside him as he pulled her tight against him, his hands splayed over her back. The feel of her. . . . Rhone groaned; he’d never get enough of the feel of her. Her hands bunched in his tunic, and she moaned into his mouth, pressing closer.
The next time, the throat clearing was less subtle.
Monikah pulled away for air, and Rhone glanced at the king, his urchin in his arms.
“Please,” Jovan said wryly. “Don’t stop on our account.” Olina was sniffling, her blue eyes shining, a smile upon her face. The king patted her hand on the table. “Don’t cry, my love; it’s bad for the baby.”
Adnan picked up the dog wheels and Rhone untangled himself to take them from the inventor, staring down at the contraption in his hands as a curious feeling overtook him.
“Rhone,” Monikah whispered. “What is it?”
He hadn’t been able to bear leaving Leo before, and although the dog would still be able to move, he wouldn’t sprint great distances again; taking him away from the vast expanse of Glacium was no longer a cruelty. Rhone would still have occasion to come and see his friends. With a Soar the journey only took half a day.
He lifted his head, staring at one of his grandmother’s paintings on the far wall, his only other tie to the castle. And he smiled.
For such a major choice, Rhone found the decision remarkably easy, though perhaps he’d been working toward it for a while now.
He turned to the Ire woman, in front of the assembly and Glacium’s monarchs.
“Monikah,” he said. “Will you have me?”
She laughed. “I certainly plan to.”
His lips twitched. “I mean, if I return to the Ire with you, are you happy for me to stick around? With you?”
Monikah’s smile dropped and Rhone’s did the same.
“You’d come back to the Ire with me?”
Jovan interrupted. “You’d go back to the Ire with her?”
Olina shushed him quietly.
Rhone ignored them both, answering Monikah, “I’ve found my purpose, and it’s waiting for me in the Ire. And you won’t be happy unless you’re there, fulfilling your purpose, inventing things to help others. The Ire is your. . . .” His eyes narrowed as he finally understood the Ire leader’s comment, and that Yarik had known Rhone would return. “The Ire is your muse.” Rhone wasn’t a king, or an advisor, but in his own way, he could help the tri-worlds. After the Ire folk he trained fought in the Interworld Games, no one would think of them as anything but equal.
“What the fuck is a muse?” Jovan muttered to his queen.
“What about your dogs?” Monikah asked, bottom lip trembling.
He tilted his head. “I leave them in capable hands.” Rhone thought of Gyn. “I will be able to visit them, but they are no longer where my heart lies.”
“Because it lies with me?” Monikah asked slowly.
A slow smile spread across his face. “It does.”
“But what will you do there?” she asked, then shook her head. “You can care for the sheep with me.”
“I’ve been offered a position there already,” he interrupted. “Training Ire folk for the Interworld Games.”
“Now, wait a fucking minute,” the king said, standing.
Olina stood too, shushing her husband a bit louder this time. “Jovan, don’t get your tunic in a knot; Rhone’s in love. We’re happy for him, aren’t we?”
The king peered down at his wife. “He’s going to train them to fight.”
She replied, “Which will better the competition. You don’t really think they’ll beat us?”
Jovan gave that consideration and then shrugged. “No.”
“Exactly.”
Rhone would be doing his best to prove them wrong. Maybe not in the first few games, but sooner or later, the Ire would be the strongest competitors.
The king pulled Olina down with him as he sat at the throne table again. The queen supported her stomach as she plonked on his lap.
“I won’t kill him then,” Jovan said reasonably.
Monikah edged closer to Rhone.
“You won’t kill him because you like him,” Olina corrected.
Jovan grunted.
Rhone grunted back.
Monikah and Olina exchanged a look as neither of the men spoke further.
“What just happened?” Adnan whispered.
Olina frowned. “I think they came to an agreement.”
“One more thing.” Monikah rose her hand, demanding everyone’s attention. “Could Rhone please have his grandmother’s paintings back? Please?”
Olina’s eyes rounded. “His grandmother’s paintings? They’re here? In the castle?” She fixed her eyes on Rhone. “How many are here?”
He glanced at his urchin, and brushed a hand over her pink cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. Even if he couldn’t take any of them, he appreciated the gesture. “Nine,” he replied to the queen.
“Of course you can have them.” Olina appeared stricken.
Jovan narrowed his eyes. “You can have all of them, except the one of my mother.”
Rhone held the king’s gaze. “Why?”
The king looked across the hall at the painting, and frowned. “Because when I look at it, I hear my mother’s laughter.”
A burning lump rose in Rhone’s throat, and he had to swallow several times before he could speak. “Then I would not ask you to part with it because that is the painting’s purpose.”
He bowed to the king and queen and took Monikah’s hand, drawing her away. Once they were clear of the food hall, Rhone led Monikah into a dark passage and asked, “You’re sure you want me in the Ire with you? I put you on the spot.”
She gave him a wry look. “Rhone, you gave me your tunic. I’m not dense.”
He traced her lips with his eyes. “You noticed that?”
“I was born in the Ire, not Osolis. I was on board the entire time. I just couldn’t be sure if you’d meant the tunic as a courting act or not, with the disappearing act.”
Had she noticed that he’d been feeding her? Or that he’d protected her when they were thrown from the sled? Rhone had ticked all the courting boxes. Was Monikah aware of that?
“Anyway, I’m glad you figured it out,” she said drily. “And I accept your tunic and all that Bruma stuff. I want you to come back to the Ire with me. I have serious one-tent plans.”
He dipped his head down, searching her green eyes. “Yeah?”
She pressed herself as close to him as possible with the dog wheels between them, kissing the corner of his mouth before whispering, “Yeah.”
“Urchin?”
She kissed the other corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”
Rhone choked on his laughter, pressing his forehead to hers. “Where do you hang paintings in the Ire?”
Epilogue
Rhone shouted, “Higher!”
Leo wheeled in front of a line of men and women doing pushups. The dog barked as he moved, the w
ooden wheels that had replaced his back legs squeaking with each rotation. With a few adjustments, Leo seemed to be coping well with the wheels. His tail was wagging anyway, and the small worry Rhone had that the system wouldn’t work had disappeared after a few days.
The line of Ire folk lowered themselves on trembling arms, faces set in determination.
“Three-minute break,” he said. “Keep walking. Take a drink if you need it.”
Their training had started two weeks ago. The number of attendees had halved after the first three days, but Rhone was quietly impressed with those left. These people were used to physical work, and their bodies were strong in ways the other two races weren’t. Where Solatis were fast, and Bruma strong, these people had a natural agility that most fighters had to hone over a decade.
He’d seized the opportunity to begin a ruthless schedule, one much harder than any he’d ever done, knowing the Ire folk were entirely ignorant of these things. If he started this way, he wouldn’t need to listen to complaints due to increasing their workload later.
Even after two weeks, their recovery between exercises had dramatically decreased, and in another ten months, Rhone had already decided he’d feel no shame whatsoever when presenting his fighters before the other worlds. They’d be ready.
Rhone ducked, evading Monikah’s outstretched hand as she attempted a silent attack from above. He couldn’t hear the whistle of her approach, but he’d noticed that her breath caught just before she struck.
“How are you doing that?” she complained, circling in to land.
Rhone waggled his brows at her. “You’re predictable.” The puzzle of how he was suddenly able to dodge her slaps on the back of the head infuriated her.
She didn’t take off her wings, but she moved up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I’m not. I’ll figure it out, eventually, you know. And I fixed the flaw in my next Soar model.”
Great. “Hamish can test it,” Rhone replied.
Monikah nodded. “His leg is healed now.”
Rhone withheld a grin. There was no way Hamish would do it again, though Rhone had met smarter people in his time.
His urchin studied the groaning people that were limping about the wide island. This island was where the Ire trained their young to use the Soars. There was a flat expanse where fifty could easily train, and large rocky shelves down one side that Rhone used to strengthen their arms with pull-ups.
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