For the first time, something like a smile turns Brando’s lips, touching his eyes. “You’ve been practicing,” he acknowledges, nudging the blade down with a finger.
Tin drops it and nods. “I said I would.”
Something flickers between them, an unspoken exchange that makes me uneasy.
“And him,” Brando says, a very slight question in the words, as his gaze flicks to me and away. The Senator’s bodyguard—for lack of a better title, since none has been given to him—still has not spoken to me directly. “Can he protect her, or is he simply a pretty game the lady is playing?”
My anger rises, but Tin answers before I have a chance. “Juhan has protected her as well as can be expected with no training.”
“So not at all, then.” Brando pulls his shirt off, wiping his face with it. “If he cannot protect her, then he is a hindrance—another body for you to guard. Fix it.”
He walks away without saying anything else. I watch him go, a little irritated. “What was that?” I ask.
Tin shrugs. “Brando takes Sadi’s security seriously.”
“That’s your job, not mine,” I say, glancing at him. The bodyguard gives me a slow smirk and I shake my head. “I’m not learning to fight, Tinex. I’m a pacifist.”
He pauses, and I feel his hesitation before he demands, “And did that work well for you, when the slavers came? When they stole your sister and branded you?”
I glare at him, and he pushes me, gaining ground. His laughter grates my nerves, and I grit my teeth. “Do you think the Ja will just hand Chosi over to you? I saw your sister—she’s a pretty little thing, if you don’t mind wings. I’ll bet Henri Argot doesn’t mind at all.”
He shoves a mental image at me, and I gag. Chosi tied down as her owner…
I growl, and swing at him wildly. Tin dodges back easily and the image vanishes. “You’re too open,” he comments, and jabs quickly at my exposed side. The blow hits like a dull knife thrust, and I suck in a breath, the fight draining out of me, replaced by grief and pain.
Tin crouches next to me, watching with clinical interest as I wheeze. “You aren’t her security, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to train. I’ll discuss it with Sadi.” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “This isn’t a discussion. Get off the ground.”
He pulls me to my feet and stares at me for a moment, then nods, a grim set to his mouth as he strides away.
He brings it up as we’re having a late meal later that evening.
It’s just the four of us—Sadi, me, Tin, and Zoe. The Senator is at a state dinner, accompanied, as always, by Brando and Larkin. I’m cutting a poached pear into fourths when Tin clears his throat, and the girl’s chatter dies. Sadi glances at him, questioning.
“I think Juhan should train with me,” Tin says.
Sadi cocks her head, watching me.
“It’s not necessary,” I say, my eyes pleading. If she wants, she can order me to do this, and I am bound to. Tin’s words from earlier ring in my ears, and the traitorous thought that maybe it’s not a bad idea surfaces. I shake it off.
“Why?” Sadi says, spooning a bit of spicy Curandan rice onto her plate. It makes my eyes sting, even from across the table.
“Brando suggested it,” Tin says casually and both girls tense. “I can’t protect both of you adequately. If he’s trained, it makes my job easier, and you safer.”
“Do I get a vote in this?” I ask, as Sadi chews thoughtfully. Zoe shoots me an amused—and sympathetic—look.
“Fine,” Sadi finally says, swallowing. “Drills and exercises. He doesn’t need to spar with you or Brando. And you need to learn Common. And if you see him, you might want to remind Brando my security isn’t his concern.”
There is censure in her voice, and warning that Tinex ignores. He nods and looks at me. “We’ll start in the morning.”
“Good. Tomorrow afternoon, you need to be fitted for your suit,” Sadi tells me, a smile turning her lips.
-My suit?- I demand silently.
“Daddy is hosting a dinner next week,” Sadi says, reaching for my hand. Even around her sister, to whom she tells everything, she maintains the facade that she has presented to her father. And I encourage it. “I have to be there, and you’re my consort. I need you. Besides, it’s an honor for us to be invited.”
For me, she means. Her invitation was assumed, both as Harvine’s daughter, and as eldest lady of the house. But for an Eleyi to be invited as a guest to a state dinner? That is something else entirely.
It is exactly what she wanted.
-Do I have to do this?- I plead. -I don’t want to be a sideshow or the evening’s entertainment.-
Sadi’s eyes are steely as she smiles at me, affectionately. - I can hardly go without you.-
It’s a game—I have to play it out, make her believe I’m as committed as she is. I kiss her hand. “Do you mind if I head to bed early?”
She gives a tiny nod, and I turn to go, her thoughts trailing me. -This is for the best, Juhan. You have to meet them to make an impression. And I’ll be with you.-
Without pausing, I think, -They hate me. Facing them is easy for you—just let me get used to the idea.-
I’m not terribly surprised when she comes to my room later. It’s dark, and I’m lying on my bed, head propped in my hands as I search for some clue as to Chosi’s general direction. Sadi stands in the doorway, watching me, for so long I think she might leave without speaking.
“Can you feel her?” she asks, finally.
I don’t want to answer. This woman bought my servitude, my obedience, but she has not bought my sister. With effort, I push back my irritation, reminding myself that Sadi is trying to present the Eleyi in a different light, a light that could help us. Fighting her won’t help me or Chosi’le.
“It’s complicated. I can feel her soul, but not her thoughts. She’s there, but too far for me to hear anything or pass on my own emotion. I just know she’s alive.”
“Does that help?”
“No. Yes.” I shrug. “I suppose. It would be worse to not even have that, but it’s so little, it’s hard to be grateful.” I sound bitter, and Sadi winces.
She steps into the room, coming to sit on the bed next to me.
I want her to leave. But I need her, and it’s a rare opportunity to find Sadi alone. I scoot to one side, and she stretches out, curving around and into me. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to train.”
-Then why force me? You know I’m a pacifist.-
She sighs. -Because not everyone will care that you are free, or my consort. They will see an Eleyi and think of the slavers. Just a little training with Tin can prevent you from being taken again.-
I twist to look at her. -But this isn’t Tin’s idea. Why does Brando care so much about your security?-
There it is again, the flash of yearning that she can’t quite hide before I feel it. If I were weaker psychically, I wouldn’t catch it. Sadi shivers. “He’s been on Daddy’s staff for ten years—since I was thirteen. I grew up with him, and for most of that time, Brando worked with my security. For years, I had a team of bodyguards, but Brando was the one I preferred.”
“Why isn’t he still?” I ask, and she flinches. She sits up, abruptly, and I run a hand down her arm, letting my presence soothe her, lulling her with the belief I care. I drop my mental walls and let a tendril of longing wrap around her. Make myself say, “Don’t go. Please. Forget the question.”
Indecision flickers in her eyes, but she slowly settles back next to me. We stare at the darkening sky, the tiny blinking lights of shuttles whipping by, past the estate and into the bright lights of the city. I haven’t ventured into it. Tomorrow will be my first time leaving the estate grounds. “Tell me about the kidnapping.”
Her gaze darts to mine. “I didn’t realize you knew about that.”
I shrug. Even on Eleyiar, we heard of the kidnapping of Senator Harvine’s daughter. Especially on Eleyiar, which has always had t
he goodwill of New Earth’s favorite politician.
And it’s been on the surface of her mind for a few days.
She shudders, a deep breath, but there is relief in her, a heartbeat of gratitude that I am not pursuing the topic of Brando. I file the information away for later use.
“It was right after Daddy was elected to the Senate. Everyone knew it was coming—abolitionists from every planet were supporting him, and slavers were screaming for his head, but the fact is that Daddy has always been popular on New Earth, and when the seat opened on the IPS, it was just a matter of time before he was elected. But the slavers knew he was going to be staunchly against slavery, arguing specifically for Eleyi rights. They made threats—they sent comm mail, bombs, and warnings to the press. Daddy knew that if he held his anti-slavery position, they’d come after his family.” A proud smile turns her lips. “But he never caved to terrorist threats, and he wasn’t changing his ideals just to protect me or Zoe. He hired Brando and a team of bodyguards. Brando was actually a low ranking one.”
“What happened?”
“Daddy proposed a bill limiting IPS funds to any slave owners, which hit most labor unions hard. It was gaining a foothold in the Senate. Everyone said it was going to pass. I was snatched from my boarding school at night. They killed one of my bodyguards, and left Brando stunned—I think they thought he was dead.” She smiles, a bitter smile. “He tracked me. I don’t know, even now, how he did it—he won’t tell me. But I was with the slavers for almost a week, and we were in deep space, and then he was there. I was being drugged, so I don’t remember much, but I remember Brando carrying me through the halls of their ship. I remember him covered in blood, telling me not to look, stepping over dead bodies, and taking me home.” Her voice is soft, her psyche so full of emotion it makes my head ache, and I almost tell her to stop. “We came home and Daddy put him in charge of my security, even though he was only five years older than me. And no one has ever come close to hurting me since then.”
She smiles, a weak smile, and I see what I feel leaking from behind her mental walls. Surprise and knowledge spins through me, and I shove it down before Sadi recognizes it in my eyes. She gives herself a little shake, sitting up on my bed, one leg crossed under her. “So that’s that. Do you think we can get lunch while we’re out tomorrow? It could help, to see us out and about together.”
Dully, I nod. Without warning, she leans forward, and brushes a kiss on my cheek, soft as butterfly wings. I force myself not to flinch from her as she whispers, “Good night, Juhan.”
After she is gone, I glance out the window, pulled by soft voices drifting on the night. The Senator is home, walking toward the house in deep discussion with Larkin. Trailing them, his eyes on the windows, is Brando.
Sadi loves him. That much is obvious from her words, her silent flashes of yearning.
What is less obvious is if Brando loves her.
Chapter 13
Chosi’le
“YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR problem is, Brielle?” Jenalle asks, slapping medpatches to my skin. I wince. Her bedside manner always sucks, but today it’s downright hostile.
Without waiting for my answer, she continues, “You have no sense of self-preservation. You charge a glad better armed and twice your size and then, astonishing! You end up back here, whining while I stitch you up.”
“I don’t whine,” I object mildly, and she stabs me with a needle—she’s skipping the anesthesia patches today. She must really be pissed. Muffling my whine, I lie still and don’t object as she fumes above me, laser-stitching my newest wound closed.
“What was it this time?” she says finally, her voice more tired than angry.
“Andal,” I say, not needing to expound. A week and a half in the jakta has landed me in the medhall more often than I’ve liked, but almost everyone who faces Andal ends up here. At least this was expected, and not just my abysmal lack of ability. Because what little ability I showed that first day seems to have vanished.
“I heard you’re doing well. Even if you are in my hall every day,” Jenalle says.
“I’m doing better than the fodder; they don’t even try to fight.” I sit up, glaring. “And it hasn’t been every day. There were those two days last week I wasn’t here.”
“Those don’t count,” Jenalle says dryly. “No one sparred, so the opportunity for injury was limited.”
I grunt, taking the customary bag of pills from her, and limping to the door. With a deep breath, I slide the door open and stride—smooth and strong—down the hall.
Kristoff is waiting for me by the grand arches. For once the courtyard is empty—the dust storm blowing in has pushed everyone indoors. I ignore him, focusing on not stumbling.
“I want you in my room tonight,” he says softly as I reach him.
I frown at him, reaching for his mind. Excitement, but none of the angst and turmoil I’d expect with that statement.
“Is everything all right with Kevan?” I ask.
He laughs. “Of course. I just don’t want him asking questions when I sneak you out.”
I go still, watching him with wide eyes. He leans in, his lips tickling my ear, as he murmurs, “We’re going to see the draken.”
Jemes is lying across the bed when I come in and throw the pills in a drawer. He scrambles up and stands there, his big blue eyes wide as he watches me.
A pang goes through me.
Fodder. He’d be fodder, if he were to face the arena. An easy kill to ignite the crowds while working my way to the gladiator who was the real challenge.
“You should be training,” I say.
“It won’t help,” Jemes says. He crosses his arms, arching an eyebrow as dark amusement fills his psyche and I turn away, staring into the drawer we share.
Why did I let myself get to know him? After that first night, I had slept here, giving Kevan and Kristoff as much privacy as I could. Sharing a small bed with Jemes, living with him—it made it impossible to keep my distance.
Even when I knew I should.
“You’re too nice, Jemes. Did you know that?” I ask without looking at him.
He sighs, and I almost regret my sharp words. Except that in the jakta, kindness is rewarded with a sharp knife to the kidneys.
His kindness will kill him here. And I don’t want him dead.
“Kristoff wants me back in his room,” I say, shaking my thoughts. I rummage through the drawer, pulling my clothes and half a dozen pouches free. The tiny pills bounce around erratically, and I shove them into a loose pocket before I turn to Jemes. He’s watching me, and for a moment, his eyes are so knowing they remind me of Juhan. Of a time I was part of a whole, instead of a broken girl fighting for one more day.
“Be careful, Brielle,” Jemes says softly, laying my oiling cloth on top of my bunched up shirt. His eyes dart to my pocket and I can feel his worry, but he doesn’t push as he steps aside. His quiet acceptance of my mood swings is one of the things I like about Jemes.
One of the things I can’t afford to like.
I clench my teeth I retreat to the quiet of the other room. I strip quickly, and curl on the pallet Kristoff has made on the floor. The medpatch Jenalle used earlier is tugging me down into the oblivion of sleep. And knowing it is only a brief respite, I surrender.
The night is pitch black as I follow Kristoff through the jakta.
All around us, glads sleep, resting for whatever madness Primus has planned for the morning. Climbing the mountain the jakta backs up to had been the test two days ago. It was amusing how many were afraid of something as inconsequential as heights. Even with clipped wings, the sheer drop didn’t faze me. The part of me who grew up in the trees—scaling the branches and flitting through the leaves—made climbing a mountain surprisingly easy.
Kristoff leads me to the far back of the jakta, past the wild beasts that will fight in the arena, until we finally come up against the stone face of the mountain, which soars above us in a smooth wall of rock. I glance around the darkne
ss.
“Where are they?” I ask, nervously.
He points, and as I squint at the darker shadow on the rock, I realize it’s not a shadow--it’s a tunnel.
They live within the mountain. Kristoff slips me a small knife and nudges me toward the tunnel. “Go. I’ll be back before first light. Remember what we decided.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I can be a glad.”
“You want to die on the sand? Because the way you’re doing, you will.”
I flush, looking away, and he gives me a light shove. “Go.”
I take a deep breath as I step into the tunnel. I keep one hand pressed to the side of the rock, the other clenched around my blade, and stumble into the utter darkness. For a moment, I wish I had a light. It’s a foolish thought—anything that draws the attention of the draken before I am ready could be deadly.
This might be anyway.
I smell them before I see the glow of fire. The reek of sulfur, the ashy scent of smoke, the peculiar feel of burnt air—and softer, almost hidden beneath the smoke and sulfur, is a spicy scent, a scent that intrigues me and draws me closer, comforting in a way that I don’t bother to assess.
There is a curve to the tunnel, heat seeping through the stone in waves. I pull my hand away and cautiously peek around the edge.
Four draken sprawl on hot stones. One is sleeping, but two are fighting over a bloody chunk of meat while the fourth watches. Above them is a wide ledge and another draken lies there, watching the others.
At first glance they appear insubstantial, made of nothing more than shadow and smoke. The longer I watch, the more I realize it’s an illusion and as I wrap my mind around that, it shatters. I can see them clearly, the long scaled bodies, short legs, leathery wings. The snap of a jaw on the others neck, long and curving. The creak of stone as an immense, solid body settles further into sleep. The sharp eyes of the one on the ledge, too still and steady to be anything as temporal as smoke.
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 9
