by Mara Gan
Thorn and I had remained near the midway line to act as relays, putting us closer to our end zone than the rest of our team. I snagged the disc out of the air and turned to toss it to Thorn, waiting until he got into position in the end zone for an easy point.
Thorn’s expression changed to one of concern. I had only a split second to think about it, however, before pain exploded in my right side and I flew through the air.
I landed partly on my leg and partly on my back with a jarring thud, smacking my head on the ground and twisting my ankle and knee in the process. I grunted as pain swept through me like thousands of lightning bolts.
Rolling onto my side, I bit my hand to keep from crying out, and the giggles began.
Fun fact: when I’m in extraordinary pain, I giggle. It’s weird, and I don’t really know why I do it. It’s probably some kind of protective measure, or maybe because I hate crying.
I blinked my eyes open to see Thorn kneeling over me, his face awash in worry. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t make out what he’d said over the roaring in my ears. Pyshka’s face quickly swam into view.
She turned to shout, her hand resting lightly on my arm, and then my Protector was there.
“Princess,” he said, his voice urgent. “Princess, can you hear me?”
I choked back a giggle. “Yup.” I winced. “Oh god.” More giggles.
He frowned and Thorn saved him from having to ask. “She giggles when she’s in a lot of pain.” At the Protector’s look, Thorn shrugged. “Didn’t say I understood it, but she does. It’s how you know she’s really hurt.”
Perseus crooked a brow at him and turned back to study me, his gaze moving up and down my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and rocked back and forth a little, trying to focus on the pain using the meditation exercises Kos had taught me. It’s just a leaf in the forest, I told myself. A leaf in the forest….
Perseus touched my ankle and a new lightning bolt shot through my skull. I giggled, feeling hysterical, and repeated my mantra out loud this time. “Just another leaf in the forest….”
“Like hell it is,” my Protector replied. “Your fingers are broken, your knee is swollen, and you can’t even bear to have your ankle touched. You’re done.”
I gasped a little, nodding. Yep. That much I had figured out.
“Her face is ashen,” Pyshka said, fury lacing her voice. “That move should be illegal!”
“To say nothing of the wisdom of allowing the Heir to play this game in the first place,” Perseus muttered. “Princess, can you move your toes?”
I thought about it, the giggles subsiding as the pain settled in like a horrible fog of awareness. I tried moving my big toe—and quickly thought better of it, as I was rewarded with another spasm of pain. “No.”
“What about your leg?” he asked. “Can you move that?”
I gazed into his eyes, trying to decide whether or not I could. “I… yes,” I said hesitantly. “But it hurts.”
He nodded. “I think your ankle is broken, but your knee may only be strained,” he said gently, squeezing my arm. “I’ll take you to the infirmary.” He shifted me to lift me into his arms and in doing so, touched my right side.
An involuntary cry burst from my lungs as suddenly I couldn’t get enough air. I choked, gasping, trying desperately to suck in a breath and fight back the nausea and hot swell of tears rising to the surface.
Perseus instantly shifted me back, his expression alarmed. “What is it?”
“Ribs,” I choked. “Can’t… breathe….”
Gingerly, Perseus lifted my shirt, careful to maintain a modicum of modesty, to examine my right side.
I could tell what he must have seen by the wave of black fury that emanated from him and slammed into me. Fury from normal people was akin to running headfirst into a brick wall. It hurt but I could brace myself for the onslaught. With Perseus, it was as though I had been in the middle of a peaceful desert, the day calm and sunny, when I was dropped into a black and stormy sea of fifty-foot waves.
Big waves always look soft and silky, like they should be smooth and gentle, but they’re not. Water hurts.
It was incredible; I had never felt anything from him, yet now I felt a stronger emotion than I had ever sensed from anyone.
I opened my eyes, scrabbling for sanity in the torrent he’d unleashed. His gaze had barely changed, but his eyes reflected the emotion he’d thrown into my mind, and suddenly I could read more than just his emotions. In seconds, thousands of gruesome, hellish methods of torture for the Zagasian who had hit me flashed through his mind.
Grabbing his arm, I whispered, “Don’t.”
His fists were clenched, his nails biting into his skin, his teeth grinding as his gaze snapped back to me.
The change was remarkable; I’d seen Mathans go into a Rage before, but I’d never seen one come back from the brink like Perseus did. One look at my face and he calmed; his tension eased a little and the dark images emanating from him faded. “Don’t what?”
I shook my head, marveling at the control he had over his emotions. “Don’t,” I repeated. “I can read you.”
He narrowed his eyes, and I could feel the Rage ebb a little more as he focused on me. “It’s no less than he deserves.”
“We need to get the Heir to the doc,” Thorn interrupted. “Punishment can wait.”
“What, you can read minds too?” Perseus asked, raising his eyebrow.
Thorn snorted. “I don’t need to be telepathic to know what you’re thinking.”
I wanted to laugh at the annoyance that briefly flitted over Perseus’s face, but the pain had left me exhausted. All I really wanted to do was curl into a little ball and sleep until the pain was gone. But hundreds of people were watching, and there was no way I was leaving this field by any means other than my own. I was far too stubborn for that.
Perseus took a deep breath, struggling to get the Rage under control. “Little one, I’m going to carry you as best I can,” he told me, his tone softening. “But this may be uncomfortable.”
“No.”
He exchanged glances with Thorn. “I’m sorry?”
I struggled to my knees, wincing. “I’ll walk.”
Pyshka looked horrified. “Princess, you mustn’t! You’re injured—”
“And I’m sure my Protector will help me just fine.” I gripped Perseus’s hand, trying not to squeeze too hard, as I got to my feet. “But I will walk.”
Perseus said nothing, just lent me the use of his hand as a sort of cane. His grip was strong and I was surprised he could support my entire weight on one arm without bending.
Then I remembered him shirtless, an image that was painfully seared into my brain, and almost giggled again. No, I wasn’t surprised.
Turning my attention to the crowd, I waved and they cheered as I made slow progress off the field. I gritted my teeth as the pain shot through my leg, but my ribs didn’t feel so bad now that I was standing. I wasn’t about to let anyone coddle me or carry me off the field. I was a leader and I was going to act like it.
“Just let me know if you need to stop.”
I shook my head and smiled up at the stands through clenched teeth. “I won’t stop, and I won’t be carried.” My words sounded gritty, even to my own ears.
Perseus grinned. “Suit yourself.” He sobered as pain flashed across my features. “So. Who will replace you in the game?”
I glanced back at my team. “Now that I’m out, we only have one sub, so Tiyu will come back in.”
“The Jardinite? She must be really good. She’s fast.”
“She’s pretty good.”
“‘Pretty good’?” he echoed. “Jardinites have incredible agility. I’m surprised she isn’t playing first string; they’re fast and light on their feet. They must be the best Dískos players out there.” He tapped his chin. “Have you considered putting her in permanently? I bet she’d really rack the points up quickly.”
I frowned slightly. “Who would we take
out? We need Miely for the pull. Pyshka, Hedrin, and Thorn are all invaluable as runners, and can catch better than Tiyu.”
He shrugged. “Well, what about you?”
I turned up to him, annoyed. “You think I’m the weak link of the team? I’ve been playing this game longer than the rest of them combined. I taught them how to play!”
“I’m just saying the others have obvious qualities that make them… irreplaceable. And Tiyu’s addition would make it a dynamic team—”
“So I’m replaceable?” I exclaimed. “But my ability to sense emotion means that I have a split-second lead on where they’ll throw the disc! Furthermore, I am one of the fastest sprinters on the team, I can throw with better accuracy, and… and….” I studied him, my anger dissipating into annoyance. “And you don’t mean any of it, do you?”
His eyes twinkled innocently. “Any of what?”
“You’re just trying to annoy me so I forget about my ribs and my ankle.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes, but now I’m mad.”
He smiled. “Well, we’re almost there. Be mad for a few more minutes, and then Dr. Remy will give you some painkillers and healers.”
“I can’t believe you said those things,” I mumbled.
He chuckled. “Come on, Princess,” he said amicably. “You’re one of the best players there is and everyone knows it.”
I couldn’t help but beam a little under the praise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I swam slowly upward, the light above my eyes getting brighter and brighter. Dimly, I became aware of the dryness in my throat, the crustiness in my eyes, the need to scratch my arm—
I opened my eyes and slowly focused on the darkened room around me.
What in the name…? I looked around, confused, before recognizing I was in a private room in the medical bay.
Oh. Here again.
I sighed. I’d been here a lot lately.
I was lying on a slight incline on the medical bed, a light blanket draped over me. I couldn’t feel the pain in my ankle or knee, but I did feel the exhaustion, and my side still ached.
As my eyes adjusted in the dim light, I saw Perseus seated in the chair by the corner, perusing a magazine.
I squinted and giggled when I noticed it was a women’s fashion magazine.
He glanced up, eyebrow raised. “Something funny, Princess?”
“I think the scarf on page 38 would look lovely on you,” I said, face serious.
“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he replied casually, putting it down. “One more remark like that and I might gag you with the scarf on page 38.” He folded his arms. “There was nothing else to read.”
I laughed—and cringed as my ribs cried in protest.
Perseus was by my side in an instant. “Careful,” he murmured, settling me back against the pillows. “You shouldn’t be moving.”
I glared at him good-naturedly. “Then don’t make me laugh.”
His mouth twitched. “Right. Nothing but serious talk.”
“That’s pretty normal for you,” I replied, giving him my best stony face. “You’re always Mr. Serious.”
“I have my moments of humor,” he protested.
“Not around me.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not around you.”
The pain eased a little and I sighed. “I could really use a Mathan Fog.”
My Protector rolled his eyes. “You have a serious addiction to those things.”
That was an understatement. I glanced at him. “Don’t suppose you could go get me one?” I asked hopefully.
His dark eyes regarded me silently, one brow raised. “Even if I were inclined to leave you—which I am not—I do believe that caffeine interacts with healers.”
I pouted a little. That was true enough. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, resigning myself to the slight grogginess that came with a lack of caffeine. “It’s been a while since I’ve had an injury in Dískos that bad. What happened?”
“Well,” he said, pulling his chair closer to my bed, “from what I can gather, you lost focus. A Zagasian was charging behind you, something I figured you would have noticed. He rammed you from the side and knocked you a solid twenty feet across the field.” He frowned. “Had he hit you from a slightly different angle, he might have killed you.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t, so it’s no big deal.”
Perseus paused. “What happened? Why did you lose focus?”
My brows knit as I stared at a spot on the ceiling. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “It was weird. I was empathically aware of everyone on the field, but then… I wasn’t.” I shook my head. “Come to think of it, I hadn’t been aware of people on the field for a few minutes, but I was so caught up in the game that I didn’t notice.” I frowned. “That’s odd. So what’s the damage?”
“Aside from the fact I’m not letting you anywhere near a Dískos field again?”
I rolled my eyes. “Aside from that.”
“Broken ankle, sprained knee, two broken fingers, and three cracked ribs.”
I winced and glanced at my broken fingers, surprised I hadn’t noticed them before. “How long have I been out?”
“About seven hours.”
My jaw fell open as I sat up in shock. “Seven hours! But that means I missed—”
“Relax, little one, I called Synie,” he assured me, easing me back again. “Your petitioners have been rescheduled.”
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “You’re so much more organized than I would have expected a mercenary to be,” I said, a hand to my chest.
“How many mercenaries have you known?”
“A few,” I said. “They get into trouble here once in a while.” Yalan, for example.
He flashed me one of those lopsided smiles I loved. “The good ones—the organized ones—never get caught,” he told me. “Never judge a profession by its worst adherents.”
“So now you’d rather babysit spoiled brats than be a professional thief?”
Perseus laughed. “Spoiled brat, you are not,” he answered. “Babysitting—you most certainly require that, but that was the general job description.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, scratching my arm. “I know I initially objected to having you as my Protector, but… I really do appreciate all your help.”
“You dislike having someone tell you what to do.”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling at a loose string on the blanket. “I much prefer being on my own schedule. I find my job a little….”
“Confining?”
How did he know me so well? It wasn’t fair. “Yes.”
He grinned. “You’d make a good mercenary.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “Even though I’m a girl?”
He snorted. “Those are the best ones,” he answered, putting his feet up on the other chair. “I’m guessing you never caught one, which just proves I’m right. They always manage to place the blame somewhere else, usually on some poor unsuspecting sap. They weasel their way in and out of all sorts of places just by using those notorious feminine wiles.”
“Feminine wiles, eh?” I laughed. “Did any of them ever trick you that way?”
“Oh no,” he chuckled. “I’m far too suspicious for that. You’ll notice that my legal record is clean as whistle, too, dear princess.”
“My pheromones would probably come in handy for once.”
His eyebrows rose as he considered that. “I’m sure they would,” he said finally. “I hadn’t even thought of that. It never came up, since most of the places we broke into were guarded by men, who generally preferred women and were unaffected by Gi.”
I grinned at the thought of Gi trying to use his charisma. I had no doubt he could charm his way in and out of any facility if he tried. But I didn’t really want to talk about me; Perseus was being surprisingly forthright in talking to me now, so I wanted to talk about him. There was so much I didn’t know about him, so much I wanted t
o ask him.
I settled on something reasonably simple. “So do you have a last name?”
He stiffened. So much for simple. “No.”
“Why not?”
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, chewing his lip. “On Mathos, names are important. We do not share them with outsiders because we believe they are powerful. Boys take their father’s first name as their last name, and girls take their mother’s. ‘Zeyis fer Mordan,’ for example, means ‘Zeyis, son of Mordan.’ Or ‘Hil fira Feystra’ means ‘Hil, daughter of Feystra.’ And so forth.”
“So you’re not telling me your last name because I’m not Mathan?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then why do you not have a last name?”
He ran a hand over his face. “It’s a long story.”
I gestured to my leg, hidden under the blanket. “I have time.”
“Good for you.”
I sighed. “Fine. Tell me about your job. What sorts of things did you do?”
“A lot of things you’d rather not know about.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. Tell me anyway. What did you do?”
Perseus eyed me thoughtfully. He’d probably done more heinously atrocious things in the past six months than I’d probably even imagined in my lifetime, but whether or not he’d tell me about them was the million-credit question.
For a moment, I thought he might actually tell me something, but then he shrugged and said, “Lots of things. You do whatever job comes your way.”
I pressed. “Such as?”
“Why are you asking?” he countered. “Interested in abandoning the life of privilege?”
“With privilege comes obligation,” I replied automatically, repeating the drivel that had been hammered into me since my birth. “And apparently, death threats.”
“Being a mercenary isn’t without its death threats, little one,” he said. “I have plenty of enemies out there.”
The door opened and Dr. Remy walked in, his large eyes smiling brightly. “Ah, Princess!” he exclaimed. “You’re awake!”
“Hello, Dr. Remy.” I smiled. Perseus stood and stepped smoothly back into the shadows to give the doctor some room.
