by Vi Voxley
"If I must fight you, I will," Towaren said. "Hear me out, Captain. I know that her image is tough and cold, but the High Senator is the last person who needs someone to sacrifice himself for her.
"She doesn't like feeling like a burden. I know you're her gerion and you don't think of her like that, but the fact that you use the word "fix" doesn't speak in your favor either. She doesn't need fixing."
The spear in his hands yearned to be used, but Xaven held on to his temper. The aide had no business talking to him like that, but it was clear he cared about Eleya and that he knew his fated much better than he did.
That was cause for concern, and cause to listen.
Xaven considered. Was it true? During the time he'd spent with Eleya, had he made an attempt to get to know her? Or had he done as she'd accused him? Trying to put in enough hours and effort to get close to her without ever bothering to figure out if there was an easier way.
He lowered his spear and Towaren relaxed visibly. The valor squares on his neck stopped pulsing battle readiness.
"I know," Xaven said, his deep voice filled with emotion. "Of all people, I should know that she is perfect."
Towaren said nothing. The truth was obvious enough and the question couldn't have been louder in his mind.
Why wasn't he saying it to her?
9
Eleya
She had always believed that the opposite of pain was peace. And that the opposite of happiness was sadness, but neither were true.
Eleya just felt numb.
Like a leaf adrift in the wind, she went through the motions that had become routine to her. Luckily for her, the High Senator could draw on years of experience. She didn't need to feel emotion toward something to know how she would normally react to it. Eleya just searched her memories for a suitable comparison and acted on it.
She kept herself busier than usual, because every free moment she had was spent pondering the same question.
How could it happen to her twice?
Eleya hadn't broken the bond yet, but she didn't see how they could take back everything that had already gone wrong. Calling your fated mate a blind fool wasn't usually the start of a beautiful relationship.
She worked long into the night, just to make sure she would fall to bed too tired to lay awake, tossing and turning. Missing Xaven.
Eleya had doubled her training sessions as well. Anything to make sure she was too tired to contemplate how much she wanted to start everything all over.
Unfortunately, there were still some events she couldn't avoid as much as she would have liked to.
The tourney to find the next leader of Briolina's militia was one of them.
Mostly because Eleya had declared it.
The last High Lord had been killed hunting rogue warriors who had wanted to start a rival academy for warriors. Blasphemous ideas like overthrowing the rule of the Elders had made them the number one target of the Militia, whose job was to keep order on the home world while the generals were away.
Considering the galaxy they lived in, it was very rare for any of the generals to be present on the planet, so the High Lord needed to be strong.
Eleya had deemed all possible successors unworthy, but for the sake of appearance, she couldn't say that out loud. Instead, she'd announced a tournament, hoping that a more fitting candidate would appear.
"How are the lists looking?" Eleya asked Towaren, sitting in her balustrade overlooking the grand arena where fighters were preparing for the initial rounds.
"Good," her aide said, checking the enlisted names of the warriors contending for the position. "It's a massive turnout, as could be expected."
Eleya nodded, frowning.
"That's the price we pay," she said. "I wanted to make sure no candidates were missing because of a technicality, but there's always the danger it attracts some powerful psycho. Any red flags?"
Towaren gave her a quick look that never boded well.
"Gods," Eleya breathed. "Let me have it. How bad is it?"
"As bad as it gets," her aide admitted. "Moroven enlisted this morning."
Eleya groaned, clenching her fists and trying to keep her expression as impassive as possible. The balustrade she was sitting under was well visible from every point of the arena and at any moment, a thousand pair of eyes at least were watching her. She couldn't show weakness and anger was by far the worst weakness there was.
"Moroven," she repeated. "Didn't I send him away? For this exact purpose."
The warrior in question was one of Eleya's most bothersome and prevailing nightmares. As the High Senator of a planet where every child bore the potential to become a world conqueror, Eleya had to deal with a lot.
Brions as a species were dutiful and honorable, if a little sharp – more often than not literally. Most importantly, though, they were manageable. Eleya used the fact a lot to calm down the Galactic Union, always watching the warrior species with badly disguised fear.
The average Brion could be reasoned with. Moroven wasn't average by far.
As her luck would have it, the man was born to wield a blade in his hand. Eleya had kept an eye on him for a long time now. She'd hoped to push the warrior toward a suitable position, but had quickly found that Moroven was a very specific type of out-of-control.
First and foremost, he was an extremist. Eleya suspected that he was behind the death of the last leader of the Militia – the position Moroven would now be fighting for. And even if he wasn't guilty of that, the warrior had so much innocent blood on his hands that she wouldn't have given him control of his own breakfast.
Eleya was thinking quickly, drumming her fingers on the armrest of her seat.
"Do we have anyone?" she asked at last, speaking honestly with Towaren, one of the few people she trusted not to betray her confidence. "Moroven can't win this. He'd turn the Militia into a private army and I'd die before letting him do that."
She couldn't refuse giving the victor their prize. Brions didn't follow many rules, but the one that worked its way into every single aspect of their lives – whatever a Brion won was theirs to keep.
Towaren was looking through the tablet in his hands, searching for the answer to her prayers. It was taking him longer than it should have and Eleya started going through some back-up plans, each worse than the other.
She knew exactly what the problem was. Moroven was a brute, a force of nature with his massive ax. It said a lot that the warrior had never bothered to wield the traditional spear.
"I have one," Towaren said and Eleya let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
"Alright," she said. "One is a good start. Who do you have in mind?"
She guessed the answer from the strange look in Towaren's eyes before the aide named the only warrior capable – and insane – enough to take on Moroven.
"Xaven," the young warrior said. "He's here."
Eleya was walking through the arena's support rooms as quickly as she could without actually running. It occurred to her that she hadn't been free to do something as simple as that for a long time now.
Generals didn't run, unless it was toward an enemy. Neither did High Senators.
Her lips curled into an amused grin when she considered how much more was permitted to a child than the people who ruled Briolina.
The rooms were filled with waiting warriors. Eleya knew most of them. The warriors all looked at her curiously. Some gave her a slight bow, others simply honored her by stepping out of the way. And as ever, there were a few whose looks promised her that she would have to deal with them at a later time. At the back of her mind, Eleya noted it all down.
Xaven was standing alone, leaning against the wall of a weapons room, his eyes closed. He looked to be concentrating very hard on something.
When Eleya approached, the captain's lips curled into a smile unlike any she'd seen on him before.
"My gesha," he said.
Brionese was an incredibly complicated language. It morphed and changed co
nstantly. Every word depended on the others, on the speaker's tone and rank and so on.
Right now, Xaven had called her my love. It was implied in the term for a fated anyway, but Eleya heard it loud and clear this time, in every syllable that rolled off Xaven's tongue.
The warrior opened his deep dark blue eyes and looked at her.
Eleya had the strange feeling that she'd never met the man before despite all evidence to the contrary.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you didn't want to be tied up in a position of power."
"So did I," Xaven admitted, nodding pensively. "Until I realized what a mistake I'd made. Until I realized that the only thing in world that I truly want is to be tied to you."
The grin on the warrior's lips spread wider for a moment.
"Perhaps in more than one way," he added.
Eleya banished the ideas of that from her head, but she couldn't keep her valor squares pulsing desire before she regained control of herself. Xaven's eyes flashed with lust.
"You don't have to prove anything to me," Eleya said, wondering how they had gone so smoothly from not talking for a week to acting like nothing had happened at all.
"Two sides of the same coin," Xaven said, pushing himself off the wall when the first call for fighters sounded. "In a bond, everything must be given freely, but since you are my gesha, I want to give you everything. It's complicated, wouldn't you agree?"
Eleya grabbed his arm as the warrior moved to join the others.
"Moroven is here," she said.
"I know," Xaven replied, his deep voice growling. "I saw him earlier. Don't worry. I know he can't win. I'll bring you his head."
Eleya felt words clogging up her throat, trying to get out. Foolish words, hopeless words, sappy and angry words, all together. There were so many things that they needed to talk through, but for some reason she didn't feel like doing that. In fact, Eleya got the sense that they just had.
Fateds didn't need to agree on everything. They didn't even have to like everything about each other. That was the type of fairytale lie she'd fought so hard to abolish. The only thing that truly mattered was the other and she couldn't even figure out how to say that.
The second call sounded and the room was empty except for the two of them.
Xaven's smile resembled the one that had charmed Eleya on the day they'd met. If possible, it was even more honest, and freely given.
"You don't have to say a word," he said.
She knew that, but it was still nice to know. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to reply.
"Don't die out there," Eleya said. "Don't you dare die now when I finally know that I love you."
10
Xaven
Five rounds later, the fire still hadn't died in his heart.
Xaven had been born with skills to put most other warriors to shame. The day had finally come when he was prepared to admit that Eleya had been right about him. He had never pushed himself hard enough.
Perhaps that was because he'd never had something to fight for.
Xaven didn't have that uncontrollable drive inside him that characterized the most feared and famous Brion generals, Eleya included. They were born to lead because that was their purpose and like every Brion, they went toward that goal like blades.
For the first time, the same fire burned in his veins. Xaven had spent the entire day vanquishing enemies, making the watching crowds cheer him on before he'd even drawn his spear, louder with each round.
The applause was deafening when he stepped onto the arena for the final duel.
Moroven was already waiting for him. The warrior was so gigantic that even the battle ax in his hands looked like a toy. His cruel dark eyes didn't leave Xaven from the moment he appeared.
The arena was matted with the blood of the fallen. The tourney didn't call for duels to the death, but Moroven had still killed every last one of his opponents. Xaven had listened to the audience gasp in surprise when the first died. Brions had sturdy stomachs and they appreciated bloody fights, but a fighter who slaughtered his opponents without reason wasn't beloved.
Above Moroven's head, Xaven could see Eleya. The High Senator didn't let any emotion mar her perfectly stoic expression, but the captain could see the slight twitch of her mouth when their gazes met.
Looking at his gesha, Xaven realized how much he'd changed in the past few weeks.
Being the High Lord of Briolina's Militia had never been his dream, but now he had to admit that he really did want the position. Not just to prove himself worthy of Eleya, the fiercest female to be born on Briolina in ages. Not just to stop Moroven and rid Eleya of her problem.
For his own sake, too.
The High Lord of the Militia worked very closely with the High Senator. The job was made for him, just like Eleya was.
Moroven roared his battle cry as soon as the signal to begin the duel sounded. The warrior charged him like a tank, but Xaven was prepared, drawing his spear.
There was nothing Moroven could do to him with Eleya's last words to him engraved on his heart, still burning.
Xaven braced himself for the impact that was about to come. Moroven was a bull of a man, heavy and powerful. He had to use all that strength and mass against him, but it didn't come without risks.
The captain pretended to wait for an opportunity to stab his opponent with the spear, but changed his stance at the last second. A gasp went through the crowd when his plan became obvious. There was plenty of reason for that, since Moroven wasn't nearly as dumb as he looked. He saw through the plan, but it was too late to stop or change direction. Warriors who were that big couldn't maneuver as easily as the others.
Moroven settled for preparing for what was to come. They crashed together, Xaven catching the battle ax on the shaft of his spear and throwing his weight behind it, knocking Moroven off balance as he skidded past him.
It would have worked better if the big warrior hadn't seen it coming, but in a Brion duel, everything was fair and expected.
They both recovered fast, blades clashing together in a furious rain of sparks. The audience bellowed its approval as Xaven dueled Moroven, keeping the big warrior on the defensive for a minute without either of them gaining the edge.
That meant he'd already lived longer than any of Moroven's previous opponents.
Only Xaven had no intention of dying. He had to resist looking up at Eleya, knowing that seeing his fated would only divide his attention that he badly needed to be focused on Moroven. She was still there with him, though. Xaven wondered if Eleya had known what kind of a gift she'd given him, but he couldn't underestimate her.
Nothing would keep him from his fated now. The only obstacle that stood in Xaven's way was the warrior in front of him and it made the duel a lot easier than it looked.
The crowd roared when Xaven's spear cut through the air seemingly out of the blue, slashing right through Moroven's right shoulder guard and making the warrior back away.
Xaven appreciated the cries calling for a bloody end. Brions were a fair species. Moroven had killed his way to the final fight and the audience thought he deserved to face the same outcome.
He listened to Eleya's voice, but it wasn't there. Xaven was certain that he would have heard his gesha's voice no matter what, but the High Senator wasn't saying anything. She was merely there, watching, waiting.
Xaven doubled his efforts. He'd planned on tiring Moroven, but it was getting to be too perilous. He'd already taken a hard blow from the battle ax and the pain still ran down his spine every time he moved. It wouldn't kill him, but over time it would become an impairment that Xaven didn't need when Moroven clearly planned to make the last trophy out of him.
The fight became brutal from that point. Both fighters knew now that one of them wouldn't leave the arena alive. Moroven rained blow after blow on him, forcing Xaven to back away, but he had no problem with that. If Moroven wanted to exert himself by putting on a show, that was fine.
I
t was fine until the point where one of Moroven's blows landed hard on his spear and Xaven toppled, stumbling backwards.
The crowd was bellowing, jumping to their feet and finally, Xaven heard Eleya's voice.
She was calling his name.
His valor squares flared red as Xaven rolled on the ground, away from the battle ax that slammed into the arena's soil. He was up on his feet in a second and rushed to catch Moroven off guard before he could free his ax. The big warrior saw that, roared – and let go of the ax. Instead, Moroven turned his way and caught Xaven's spear, holding on to the shaft that had been about to pierce his neck.
It was impressive. Even Xaven was prepared to admit that. It went against every instinct of a warrior to let go of their weapon, but Moroven had done the only thing that could have saved his life.
Now he was left struggling for the possession of his spear with a man who weighed twice as much as he did.
Xaven's only option was to do something insane as well.
He glanced at the ax buried into the ground. Moroven had loosened it, but it was still a gamble.
Xaven let go.
Gravity came to his aid as Moroven's eyes went wide. The big warrior toppled back, the spear in his hands. He'd been trying to rip it out of Xaven's grip and now it had cost him his stance, which was everything in a Brion duel. The warrior fell heavily, but by that time Xaven had ripped the ax out of the ground.
Understanding dawned in Moroven's dark eyes, but it was too late. An ax wasn't Xaven's weapon of choice, but he could wield it fine when he needed to.
The blade cut through the air, slicing clean through Moroven's neck, without pain or needless suffering. Blood pooled next to the fallen warrior and the crowd cheered him. Both as the new High Lord and the man who'd put an end to Moroven.
When Xaven looked up at the balustrade, he could see Eleya standing, her eyes nailed to him.
Others might not have seen it, but to Xaven it was as clear as day – he'd won. Not just the tourney, but something much more important.