But Yfia was much taller than Alaina, and she could see them, and she gasped as the Master of Games called the battle to begin.
“What is it?” Alaina asked, standing on her tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of her masters. “Is it Vega?”
But it was too soon. There were still more games before the final.
“No,” Yfia whispered, and Alaina saw tears fill her eyes. “It’s him. It’s Bathari. He’s alive!”
Alaina’s mouth fell open in surprise and when she looked again, she could just see the top of Bathari’s unbroken antler between Lennai and Atticon as he fought on the sands.
“Bathari is the cursu you’re in love with?” she wondered aloud, shocked.
Yfia nodded, wiping tears from her eyes, her attention glued to the fighting. “Yes. Yes! And he’s alive. I never thought I would see him again. Oh, Alaina, what if he dies right now? And he’ll never know I’m watching.”
Alaina took her hand, squeezing her fingers, and Lennai and Atticon parted a little more until she could finally see the fight itself. Three on three. Bathari was the only Jiayi among them, so he was easy to keep tabs on.
“He’s strong,” she told Yfia. “He’ll fight well. And he’s clever. He’ll be okay.”
But of course she had no way of really knowing that. None of them did. Any time a cursu walked out onto those sands, there was a chance he or she might not leave alive. Alaina’s heart broke as she watched, as Yfia gripped her hand, terrified for the man she loved and sold herself into slavery to be reunited with. And Alaina remembered Bathari’s story when they were in the cells. How he’d calmed her down by describing the girl he’d left behind at home, how much he still loved her and hoped to return to her one day. They were so close to each other now, and yet still so very far apart, and Alaina struggled to maintain her composure as Yfia cried beside her.
Bathari fought with small knives. He was faster than the larger Errai fighters, and he slid gracefully in between them all, his strikes swift and deadly. He presented a smaller target, too, always turning his body sideways so that they had less room to land a blow. He was smart in his tactics, and confident on the sands. He’d been fighting for a long time by now, Alaina knew, and he attacked with ferocity but never lost his concentration.
Eventually, it came down to him and a lavender-scaled Errai. The combat was so fast and furious Alaina had trouble keeping track. The crowd went nuts for it, shrieking, clapping, as Bathari and his opponent turned in circle after circle, Bathari a demon with his knives against a larger opponent with a gigantic sword.
And then the killing blow.
The Errai fighter swung the sword wide, aiming for Bathari’s neck, his intention plainly to lob his head off his shoulders.
But at the last second, Bathari ducked.
The sword cracked into his one unbroken antler, hacking it off nearly at the base of his skull. Alaina gasped and Yfia shrieked, hands covering her mouth to muffle it, and even her Jiayi masters got to their feet, shocked by the brutality of it. Watching Bathari’s antler fall to the sands.
Bathari dropped to his knees, screaming in pain, but his opponent stumbled as he overextended. Bathari struggled up, surging forward, and tackled the Errai cursu to the sands, driving both his knives into the fighter’s lavender-scaled throat. The Errai jerked and gurgled, his limbs shaking, until finally he went still with Bathari hunched over him. Bathari struggled up to his feet, reeling a little, clearly from the pain and the sudden change in his equilibrium, but the crowd was screaming for him and so he threw his hands up in triumph, still clenching silver-blooded knifes.
Yfia fell to her knees beside Alaina, sobbing in relief.
Alaina sank down and hugged her tight as she cried, as relief flooded through her as well, and one of the House Chara guards emerged onto the sands to help Bathari back to the pit.
“He’s all right,” Alaina whispered to Yfia. “He’s alive, Yfia. He’s all right. You have to stand up and stop crying, though, or you’ll get in trouble. Right? Come on.”
Yfia nodded, inhaling a deep, shaking breath, and then gripped at Alaina’s arms as she hauled herself back to her feet. “He’s alive,” she stammered, tears shining on her pale cheeks. “He’s alive.”
“Yes,” Alaina said, smiling a little. “And he won’t have to fight again today. That was his only game and he triumphed. Maybe he’ll even be called champion for it. And you know he’s alive, Yfia, and you also know exactly where he is.”
Yfia wiped at her face, reaching back to the serving board to pick up a linen so she could dry the tears from her cheeks quickly. “I have hope again that one day we’ll look into each others' eyes again. That is more precious than anything.”
Alaina wanted to do more for her, but wasn’t sure what could be done. They were owned by separate houses, separate races, and she knew that in all likelihood Yfia was going to have to watch Bathari fight again.
And she realized that even if Vega survived the final fight today, she would have to watch him fight again, too. Again and again. She wondered if she could survive it. If her heart could survive it. What a horrible thing, to feel this panic and this terror over and over again. She didn’t wish it for herself, and she certainly didn’t wish it for Yfia and Bathari. She had to find a way to bring them together and get them off this station as well. That was a dangerous resolution, she knew. It had been dangerous enough to want to escape with Vega. But she couldn’t stand to think of Yfia having to go through this again, alone.
Atticon and Lennai returned to their sofas, and the Jiayi couple sat back down again. They called for wine, so Alaina and Yfia picked up decanters and went to serve their masters. Alaina’s hands trembled a little as she poured the wine into first Atticon’s cup and then Lennai’s. The domina met her eyes, but said nothing.
They retreated back to the serving board, and Alaina tried to steel herself for one more fight before it was Vega’s turn. She could think of nothing, however, except Bathari’s scream and Yfia’s sob in the same moment.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bathari was a mess when they brought him back into the pit, and Vega spent the second to last game helping Dyhar patch up his only friend.
His only, giddy, delirious, ridiculous friend.
“Did you see that!” Bathari laughed, even as he was trembling all over from the pain, lying on one of the benches in this pit. “I was incredible!”
“He’s in shock,” Dyhar muttered. “Hold him down.”
Vega placed his hands on Bathari’s shoulders and pinned him to the bench as Dyhar grasped the half an antler he had left. He pressed a cauterization iron to the freshly broken one, and Bathari screamed, the sound loud and agonized enough that it curdled Vega’s blood. Blessedly, once Dyhar removed the iron, Bathari just passed out completely. Vega sat back on the bench, scraping hair out of his eyes, and looked at Dyhar.
The Master’s expression was dark.
“He’ll live,” Vega insisted. “Won’t he?”
Dyhar nodded. “He’ll live. He’ll probably fall down a lot for the next few weeks, but he’ll live.”
Vega knew that their antlers were a great source of pride for all Jiayi. The taller, the more polished, the more they twisted above one’s head, all of it was a point of pride, position, and status. He remembered when Bathari had lost the first half of his remaining antler. He’d sobbed in his bunk for days afterward. He’d been bitter and angry, and very nearly suicidal for a month before he started to let it go. Vega wondered what he would be like now.
At least he’d won, though.
The last time, he’d lost and nearly died. This time he’d nearly died as well, but he won. Maybe it would seem worth the loss of his antler. Vega hoped so.
Guards arrived to carry Bathari into one of the recovery rooms, and Vega knew it was nearly his time. While he’d been helping Dyhar with his friend, the next game had gone on. It had been short and messy, apparently, and the guards
had been called out to clear the bodies already.
He drew his two curson from the weapons rack, sheathing them on his back, and felt the weight of them as if they were fifty pounds heavier than normal. Just carrying them made him feel weaker, and that was disheartening. But he’d fight. And he’d do his very best to survive. He arrived at the gate beside the human, Rua, and they watched side by side as the guards dragged dead cursii from the sands and then raked over the places where they died, hiding the blood.
“I know Alaina,” Rua said.
Vega started and looked at him. “What?”
Rua’s eyes stayed on the sands. “I know Alaina. I’m on your side, mate, and I’ll tell you what. We take out our enemies together, and then before the final gong, you let me knock your lights out and take top position in the lists. Deal?”
Vega didn’t know what to make of this. Alaina seemed to have influenced the man somehow, and Vega couldn’t have needed an ally more than he did in that moment. He certainly didn’t like the idea of taking a blow at the end, of giving up the top of the list to this man he didn’t know.
But.
A few minutes ago, the top of the list had been a dream so far away he couldn’t touch it, and now Rua was speaking about it like it was a done deal. They weren’t just going to survive, they were going to win the day. He sounded like Bathari, practically stupid in this confidence. But Vega found he needed it. He needed to be stupidly optimistic or he was dead already.
“Deal,” Vega said.
Rua nodded. He shook out his arms, aiming them sharply down at the ground, and the two curson blades latched to his forearms shot out. Deadly, shining, and sharp, and Rua actually smiled.
Vega heard the crowd chanting his name. They’d announced the final game. He heard the crowd, the two syllables of his name pounding through the Arena, loud enough to block out anything else except the beat of his heart in his ears. He caught sight of Master Dyhar at the edge of the sand. Dyhar nodded to him, encouraging.
Then the groan of the gate lifting, and the wide expanse of the Arena sands was all that stood between Vega and Alaina once more.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alaina watched the cursii walk onto the sands from where she stood with Yfia by the serving board. Two Jiayi combatants versus Rua and Vega. It hurt her heart, watching Vega look up at the roaring crowd, knowing how wounded he was, knowing he was going to fight and she would have to stand by and watch. The four cursii faced off across from each other, and Alaina could see the stiffness in Vega’s movements as he drew one of the curson blades from a sheathe on his back. She looked over at Lennai and Atticon, both of whom were completely focused on the sands. So were their Jiayi opponents. Alaina picked up one of the serving jugs and inched closer to the edge of the terrace. Yfia had recovered but she shook her head a little as though to discourage Alaina from going closer to watch, but she had to. She knew it would be worse if she just listened to the crowd.
The Master of Games announced the fight. Alaina barely heard him. Something about the contested land that House Chara and House Ka’ani were disputing. Something about how the final game would determine who took the planet, and also the day’s champion. The crowd started chanting Vega’s name because he was the obvious favorite, but Alaina knew he wasn’t going to win. She just hoped he didn’t die.
She kept wishing he would look over at the terrace and see her. But he stared straight ahead at his enemies, and his gaze didn’t waver. Alaina stood holding the pitcher and memorized every inch of him while she could. From the top of his head, the long strands of his black hair plaited back from his face, to his broad shoulders made bulkier by the armor he wore, to his hands, one clutching the blade and the other with fingers wide, ready to grab the second on his back. And his piercing, steady, violet eyes. She didn’t want this to be her last memory of him, but their morning making love seemed so far away now, like a dream. It had been a beautiful dream, but this was their reality.
The Master of Games lifted his hands and the crowd screamed so loud Alaina could barely hear the signal to start the games.
But the cursii on the sands heard. The four fighters rushed each other, and Alaina’s heart started to pound as she watched.
Blades launched from Rua’s sleeves, hitting his palms, and he whirled in against one of the Jiayi cursii, the two locking into a cyclical fight.
Vega drew his second blade and met the other Jiayi fighter in the same moment, who was fighting with shield and dagger. Alaina could hear Vega’s blade striking the Jiayi’s shield over and over again, metal screeching, like an angry gong in time with her heartbeat. Vega’s blade pounded that shield, and the Jiayi blocked his every blow. Alaina could tell Vega was getting tired. That must have been the Jiayi’s plan. To tire him out until he couldn’t stagger back fast enough to avoid a swipe from beneath or above the shield. Vega jumped, jabbing his blade over the lip of the shield and managed to stab the Jiayi in the shoulder. The Jiayi howled and lurched back, lifting his shield higher, and Vega charged him.
That was a mistake.
Alaina knew it was a mistake even as Vega did it.
He slammed into the Jiayi’s shield but he didn’t have enough momentum to knock him off his feet. The two ended up locked together with the shield between them, each trying to overpower the other with sheer strength.
Alaina looked over to Rua, but he wasn’t in a position to help. He and the other Jiayi fighter were still turning circles around each other, lashing at each other with blades of a similar length, and the Jiayi had put himself between Rua and Vega. They’d successfully cut their opponents off from helping each other. Alaina didn’t know much about tactics but she could see them taking shape from above the sands, how the fighters moved together. Rua and Vega didn’t know how to fight together, so they were each fighting their own battle instead of working like a unified team. And they were going to lose because of it.
Vega's opponent ducked suddenly, slashing over the top of the shield with his tall, black antlers. Vega jerked back to avoid it. The Jiayi slammed the shield into his face. Alaina gasped, helpless as the Jiayi cursu drove his knife into Vega’s chest. Horror flooded through her as Vega fell to the sands.
Rua tried to duck around his opponent to get to Vega. The Jiayi he fought lashed out with his blade. It caught Rua in the shoulder, and he stumbled back. He caught his balance on the tip of one of his blades and swung back, but now there was even more distance between him and Vega.
As Vega lay bleeding on the sands, the black-antlered Jiayi came to stand above him and lifted his shield, aiming for Vega’s throat.
The crowd cheered, but not for Vega.
For Tahbet, the Jiayi. They bellowed his name. Alaina looked up and all around, the gathered populace of the Arena chanted Tahbet Tahbet and waving their hands, thumbs turned down. They were calling for him to kill Vega.
Alaina lost all control of herself.
Her mind raced. Tears flooded her eyes. But she was not Yfia. She was not delicate or broken, or resigned to live life as a slave. She wasn’t even Vega, so focused on one thing that he was blind to all the other moving parts around him. She was human and a goddamn free American. She wasn’t a fighter, but she was better than that. She saved lives. She was going to save lives.
Before she had made any sense of her own thoughts, she was already moving.
That’s how it had always been for her. Arrive at the scene of the accident, dive into the crisis. Triage. Find the source of the pain, the trauma, and fix it. Stop it. Save lives.
She gripped the handle of the pitcher and ran to the edge of the terrace.
She heard Atticon and Lennai shouting after her, but she jumped right off the terrace. She dropped down until her feet hit the sand, knees buckling, but she caught herself. Then she ran.
Across the sands, towards the fighting. She barreled right into the Jiayi standing over Vega, tackled him clear to the ground, and slammed the serving jug right into h
is startled, unprotected face. As blood spurted from Tahbet’s broken nose, Alaina smashed the jug into his face again, and again, until his hand loosened the grip on his shield and it fell to the sands. Alaina grabbed it, lurching back just in time, as he swiped blindly at her with his knife. She grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his eyes and he shrieked as blood and sand swarmed his vision.
She heard Rua shouting and looked over at him.
“Kill him!” Rua cried, as he ducked a blow from his opponent. “Kill him, Alaina!”
She hesitated, clutching at the shield and the pitcher, on her knees in the sand as Tahbet writhed and clawed at his eyes. He’d dropped his knife.
She wasn’t a fighter. She wasn’t a killer. She didn’t want to kill anyone. But she looked over at Vega, still prone on the ground, the knife wound in his chest bleeding.
She let go of the pitcher and picked up Tahbet’s knife instead, the roar of the crowd in her ears, the rush of adrenaline thundering through her veins.
She slammed Tahbet's head with the shield as hard as she could. He rolled, spilling sideways, and came to a stop face down in the sand. Then she scrambled over to him and checked his pulse. Still alive. She pushed at him. Unconscious. That wasn’t dead, but it put him out of the fight and that was all she needed. Knife in one hand and shield in the other, she shoved herself up to her feet and ran to join Rua in fighting the last Jiayi standing.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Vega should have been dead. He knew he should have been dead. Tahbet’s knife pierced his armor, and the pain was excruciating. Once he was on his back, he knew he wasn’t going to get back up. He didn’t have the strength or the energy left, and he lay there knowing it was coming, his heart full of regret as he listened to the crowd chanting his killer’s name.
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