Caged Warrior

by Lindsey Piper

  “Because we’re leaving the complex. The Old Man never hosts visitors down here. We’re escorted to where the guests assemble around the full-size Cage.”

  “Ah, so you have been outside. You’ve seen the sun.”

  He kept from curling his hands into fists. No show of limitation. The simple recitation of fact. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “What would you think of such a thing if you lived your whole life belowground?”

  Her lower lip rubbed over the upper, which plumped them both. He hated his gifts for cluttering his mind with distracting details.

  “I’d see it as an enemy,” she said. “A disadvantage.”

  “And the Old Man knows it. We travel in buses and wear blindfolds between.”

  “Safer.”

  “Necessary. Any visiting warrior would be at a serious disadvantage.”

  “But if we looked?” She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “If we didn’t wear the blindfolds, we could see where we are? Cities. Mountains. Rural Dragon-knows-where. That could be important.”

  She sounded as if she were speaking through a long, long tube of glass. Distant, even to herself. Whatever Ulia had done, Nynn had come out with her powers—and no apparent memory of fighting to free her son. He didn’t want to mention her little boy again, for fear of reversing her real potential. Or splitting her mind in two.

  So he maneuvered her. He didn’t like it. It felt more like the sort of games the Tigony would play. Tricksters.

  “Glory is only found in the Cages. Why would it matter where they are?”

  She nodded firmly. The clouds of confusion ebbed from her eyes. “Then let’s do this.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Leto had proven honest about all matters pertaining to combat, and to Nynn’s survival in his world. Why wouldn’t he? Arming her with information was as much of an advantage as arming her with skills and weapons.

  So when human guards blindfolded her, she acquiesced. Every advantage. She would face genuine opponents. None of the contests between Dragon Kings would be to the death. Her pride, however, was on the line. She wanted to prove herself to those she served, and to Leto.

  She was led outside. Two guards held her elbows. Guiding. Restraining. They didn’t need to bother. She was as eager as she’d ever been. Only when the rush of cold, fresh air, hit her face did she flinch. She hesitated enough for the guards to jerk her forward.

  The smell of snow.

  It’s been more than a year. Free air.

  The cold tingled in her nostrils and spread goose bumps across her exposed left shoulder. Her nape prickled. She’d had long hair the last time she walked in the cold. Like a soft blanket draping down her back.

  When was that? Where was I?

  A headache gathered between her brows. The guards prodded her lower back. More force. Less patience for whatever fit had taken hold of her mind. Soon she had climbed three steps onto an idling vehicle that stank of diesel. One of the buses Leto had mentioned. Old and new collided in her mind, no matter how she tried to focus on the next few hours. A sort of panic made her heart speed.

  The darkness of the blindfold. The pressure of the guards’ hands. The biting manacles. Her pulse raced and her headache intensified. Panic. She couldn’t breathe. Cold snow. Diesel. Long hair. She struggled, fell, groped for purchase.

  A pair of strong hands hauled her up and deposited her on a seat. “I should’ve included walking lessons, too? Didn’t realize.”

  Leto’s voice was a low purr against her neck. Darkness. With him. Excitement of a different kind replaced the Cages and the disorientation. To be alone in the dark with him. But with no boundaries of leather. Skin on skin.

  Breathing had been difficult, cluttered with strange thoughts. Now it was impossible. He had seen all of her. She had not seen all of him. Her imagination did its damnedest to fill in the mysteries. Her personal darkness, there behind the blindfold, was shaded with images of tan skin. Flexing muscles. Sweat. Swagger. Deadly purpose and strength. Dark eyes that watched and assessed. A mouth meant for bold kisses. A body honed for combat and sex.

  “You can’t see either?”

  He grunted an affirmative. “I told you as much.”

  “You sound so calm,” she said. “At ease.”

  “We’re on our way to victory. Of course I’m at ease.”

  What about the disorientation? Or the terror Nynn couldn’t articulate? Or the restlessness of spirit that burned her sightless eyes with tears. She couldn’t feel at ease. Not like that. Not like him. Some facet of her training, maybe. She was missing something.

  “You’re ready for this, Nynn. You have no reason to be this skittish.”

  The bus’s engine fired to life and began to move. It sounded familiar, yet altered. All she could do was cling to what she knew. Leto’s voice—that hypnotic, magnetic rumble. His words of encouragement. His warmth created a bubble of intimacy between them. She fumbled for his hand.

  He flinched again, the same as when she’d touched his temple. Yet he’d been bold as well. Touching her back. She had enjoyed the attention, but she also remembered that they’d kissed. Hard kisses. His body had levered above hers, strong and resolved. The why and where didn’t matter, only a ghostly impression of having been entirely at Leto’s whim.

  He was her compass now.

  Nynn tightened her fingers. A simple gesture. Hands together. She needed that reassurance. The contact seemed to unmoor him faster than any attack. Images of bare, damp flesh were replaced by the comfort of having something warm to hold on to in the dark.

  She’d needed that before. Holding . . . in the terrible black . . .

  “Breathe.”

  His low command wove into her like hot honey. Just enough sting. Just enough sweet. Nynn exhaled. Inhaled. He kept hold of her hand and she gave up the unknowns. Too many awaited in the Cage. At least there, she had the skills and confidence to take on whatever stood in her way.

  “I’m breathing,” she said. Then more firmly. “I’m breathing.”

  The trip wasn’t long, more or less a half hour. Nynn spent that time mentally running through drills and holding Leto’s hand. He made no move to encourage her. No move to push her away.

  When the bus stopped, he let her make her own way. How very like him. The brief minutes of silent connection—done now. Good. She needed to focus on something other than how reassuring his touch was. The roughness of his palms. The blunt weight of his bones. Again she felt a surge of wonder and awe that she would fight beside such a warrior.

  And again, she wondered why she’d resisted his instruction for so long. A waste of time.

  Outside. The smell of snow. She didn’t like it. Too much disquiet in her soul.

  The warmth of a new building couldn’t come soon enough. It enveloped her and blocked out the eerie strangeness of being outdoors. She belonged in the complex.

  The smell of snow.

  A guard removed her blindfold. She, Leto, and ten other Aster family warriors stood in a hallway. It was probably larger than it seemed, but so many tall, broad, bristling men stole every square inch of perspective. They may as well have been crammed into a child’s dollhouse.

  Silence stood nearby, with Hark beside her as close as a shadow—that curious, formidable pair. They watched the world as if it contained as many secrets as their clan harbored. Nynn would never consider them allies, but she didn’t tally them among her enemies either.

  Hellix, however, seemed born to make enemies of everyone. He looked as if he’d lost more contests than most would ever fight.

  “Virgin match.” His brand looked even more hideous in the dim light. No telling skin from shadow from lumped tissue. “You’ll share the spoils with me.”

  She disliked the man. That was nothing new. But the desire to run, just run, almost overpowered rational thought. Pain lanced through her head. Deeper. Lower. She could feel it flailing at her back and hear strangled,
pleading cries.

  Just nerves. Eagerness. She swallowed a surprising twist of bile at the base of her tongue. Hellix was not going to intimidate her.

  “If you want,” Nynn said with a shrug. “Would be fun to take you down first.”

  His armor was highly polished but plain. Perhaps it was a reminder that he would only ever hold so much status. The reverence Leto had achieved would always be out of reach. “I’d wager it’s been a long time since you’ve been fucked.”

  An instant reply formed in her mind.

  Leto would kill you first.

  It was ridiculous. Beyond satisfying the Old Man’s expectations, Leto needed her for no other purpose. His dislike of Hellix would be more of an incentive to beat the man than anything to do with her. Yet she liked the thought. It warmed her in the same way that holding Leto’s hand on the bus had warmed her. Something to clasp in the dark, even if it was just a delusion.

  “You try that and we’ll see who lives to see the next day,” she said quietly. “It might not be me, but you’d lose a limb or two. Maybe even your prick. And then what would you have left to use when throwing around threats?”

  “I’ll bring the whip. We enjoyed it so much last time.”

  Nynn frowned in confusion, but an insult was ready on her tongue. “Save it for the ring, knife-branded scum.”

  He stepped within inches and leaned close to her ear. “I’ll break one bone. You’ll scream. And before you finish screaming, I’ll have broken all of them.”

  “What’s your clan, Hellix? I don’t remember which one’s gift is wishful thinking.”

  Hark laughed. “Leto, is this how you’ve spent your time? Teaching her how to talk trash? That’s a bold approach. I should consider a refresher course.”

  “No need, you idiot clown,” Hellix snarled.

  Leto shouldered through the other combatants and looked down one inch. The exact difference in height between him and Hellix. “Shut up.”

  Although Silence didn’t say anything, a slinky smile tipped the edges of her lips. Hark grinned and rested his chin on her shoulder, as if settling in to watch. He whispered something in his partner’s ear. Her tiny smile increased. The pair was as enigmatic as the Sphinx, there in the Nile Valley where the Sath staked their territory.

  Another woman named Weil of Clan Pendray looked on with utter detachment—which wouldn’t last when she let loose her manic fury. Leaning against one of the beige walls, Fam laughed outright. After so many weeks deciphering Leto’s tightly reined expressions, that laugh was grating, like shouting during a wedding ceremony.

  The sooner she could fight, the better.

  When the doors behind them were secured, the ones ahead of them opened. A long airlock. Leto turned away from Hellix without haste. He pushed a path through the others and led the way. A primal shot of lightning struck pleasure through Nynn’s body. The hollow behind her breastbone tingled. Her fingers prickled with the remembered feel of his short hair and the soft, warm skin of his temples. Her lips tingled, wanting another taste of him.

  She ignored Silence, Hark, Hellix, and anyone else who wasn’t Leto, then followed him toward the other doors. There, guards removed the manacles. She shook her wrists and circled them clockwise, counterclockwise. She popped her knuckles. Rolled her neck. Adrenaline mixed with the scent of Leto’s skin and the warmed leather of his armor. They stood that close.

  “This way,” he said. “The Old Man wants to meet you before the matches begin.”

  Although the guards technically encircled them, Leto strode through the maze of hallways, sloping corridors, and stairwells as if he’d been born to the task. Very nearly. Every glance she shot toward his profile revealed the same locked-down expression. Stoic, calm, but with a concealed, buzzing energy. Maybe it was the way his eyes never stopped moving, or the way he occasionally slid his jaw from side to side. From Leto, it was practically fidgeting.

  She anticipated the moment they would stand together in the Cage and she would see when the collars deactivated. His powers returned to him. Sexual release had never looked so enticing. She wanted to see it, then see it again—a unexpected reward for surviving each match.

  “Leto,” came a voice.

  Beneath wrapped leather, the hair on Nynn’s forearms tried to stand on end. Those on her nape did. Before their assembly of large men and formidable women, all deadly warriors, stood warped and stooped Old Man Aster. He supported his weight with a cane, although there wasn’t much to support. Skeletons had more bulk and more color. He was a corpse with a jester’s wide smile.

  “And Nynn,” he continued. “Welcome. I anticipate what you have to show us this evening.”

  “I hope to earn your respect, sir.”

  He angled a bizarre look toward Leto. “Interesting.”

  That seemed . . . anticlimactic. He added an extra layer of strange to the moment by turning to greet other combatants. Was he that detached?

  She caught up with Leto’s long strides. “How many times did you say that the Old Man had picked me out? That he had some big plan for me?”

  They were admitted to a weapons room, full to brimming with every manner of metal and steal and wood. “Enough for you to believe it,” he said, selecting his favorite. The mace.

  “And that was all we get? A sneer and a noncommittal comment? He should’ve offered some kind of congratulations.”

  “He didn’t sneer.” From a wall of swords and daggers, he selected three before turning to face her. “And why congratulate a warrior who has yet to win? There’s no value in praise offered before it’s earned.”

  “Is that why you never congratulate me?”

  Leto’s eyes glimmered, as black and shining as the accents on his armor. They narrowed. Dark brows drew together. Only a person who was really looking for those clues would find them. “If we win, we’ll be congratulating each other. You remember what I said about how warriors are rewarded, don’t you?”

  “Sex.”

  “Yes.”

  “Winner’s choice.”

  “Yes,” he said again, his intensity as strong as any touch.

  Nynn stepped to within inches of his armored masculine beauty. She lifted her hands and cupped his skull, tracing her thumbs along his temples. The head and the tail of the serpent. “And what happens if we both win? Will you choose me, Leto?”

  “No. You’ll choose me.” He pulled away from her hands, turning toward the wall of weapons. “Now. We will select your dagger.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  He didn’t make a suggestion. He didn’t even hold one blade slightly more forward than the others. All he did was present them as equals. Other warriors from the Aster family came and went, took what they needed. Their insults and buoyant boasts were the buzzing of insects. Leto would shut them all out until he needed to see them again—as opponents, or as victorious comrades.

  He only waited for Nynn. “Choose.”

  “You said ‘we’ will select. That implies you giving me a clue.”

  “These are the three that will best fit your frame and the size of your hands. They’re lightweight, sturdy, and you should be able to hold on to them even when you use your gift.”

  The trio gleamed in the armory’s ambient lighting. One was decorated with gold leaf. One copper, edged in green. One plain steel.

  “So is this some sort of test? Pick the plain one. Or pick the ugly one. Dragon forbid I go all girly and choose the pretty one.”

  “It’s a test, but not like that. How well do you know your abilities?”

  A tight pressure gathered in his lungs, which were already tight from the prospect of sharing one another after their victory. They had to get there first. No matter his outward confidence—confidence in himself, really—he couldn’t deny that Nynn was a wild animal.

  As for the long daggers, he knew which one would make her a champion. He wanted her to know as well. Proof he’d done well. Proof they had more than a chance at victory.

  I intend t
o be astonishing.

  He wanted that nearly as much as he wanted victory for himself. And afterward, after the applause . . . they would unleash that potency on each other. Dragon damn, he wanted this woman.

  “Let me hold them,” she said.

  Leto nodded. Yes, that was the first step toward making the right choice.

  One by one, she took the blades in hand. Hark and Silence entered the armory. Per their custom, he chose a silver nighnor and she picked a shield with a slim profile and razor-sharp edges. Both stopped, watched Nynn for a moment, then moved on. Hark was markedly quieter than usual. Before a match, even their resident chatterbox had enough sense to know when to shut up.

  “This one,” Nynn said.

  Something close to disappointment settled in his lungs, as if he breathed heavier air. She’d chosen the plain steel sword. Fine. A good weapon. But it was not as elegant as her movements. The blade had little give and no flair.

  “Good enough,” he managed to say.

  What had happened to the easy confidence he’d felt during the ride over? The closer they got to the start of the match, the more he doubted.

  “You think I made a bad choice?”

  “You made a choice. Who knows what way the match will play out.” He handed her a particular shield, offering no room for error this time. “We haven’t much time.”

  Nynn gnashed her upper teeth into her lower lip. She shook her head. “You’re impossible. I’m trying to learn and you’re playing cryptic master of secrets.”

  “What happened to being astonishing?”

  “It’d be nice if I had some help!”

  “Shut up, neophyte.”

  “Save it for Hellix, sir.” She strapped the scabbard around her waist. “Now, who do we butcher first?”

  “Is this still a joke to you? Even still? Dragon damn, woman. I will not step foot in a Cage with you if that’s how you think.”

  “Go take it up with the Old Man.”

  She hefted her shield into place. The pivot of her heel turned her in a perfect half circle.

  She froze, screamed, and drew her sword. Because Dr. Aster stood in the doorway, with the Pet at his feet.