Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (26 page)

I blink, unsure I heard him correctly. “Sir?”

“Food, drink, plates,” Henri says, annoyed, “I want you to serve it. The
patron wants to see a spectacle serving him, and he’s paid damn good money for
it.”

I flush, a flood of hatred filling me. But I glance at Kristoff, at the
quiet, distant look on his face, and I nod. “As you wish.”

Henri lays down the bag he is carrying, and nods at it. “Wear this. I’ll
send for you when it’s time.”

Without addressing Kristoff, without ever looking at him, he pivots and
leaves.

It’s quiet, so quiet, in his absence, and I can feel the wash of rage
and rejection that fills Kristoff a moment before it’s locked away behind walls
I can’t breach.

He smiles at me. “Sounds like your rest is over, Brielle.”

I pluck at the billowing white top as I follow the AI through the halls
of the arena. The leather breeches are too tight, but soft and comfortable.
“Take this to the Ja,” the AI orders, and I take the tray carefully. The
glasses are blessedly empty—I’ve already dropped too many for them to fill
before I carry them.

Henri is laughing when I slip into the private dining room. The Pente
across from him is richly dressed in hues of pale purple and black. A
politician, then.

He sees me first, his dark eyes lighting with a smile as I carefully set
a crystal—
real
crystal—glass in front
of him, circling the table to place the other before Henri. I hand the tray to
the AI waiting in the shadows, and return to pour a small measure of kechei—a
liquor made from a desert flower—for the patron.

After I pour for Henri, he places a hand on my wrist, stilling me
effortlessly. “Brielle, I would like you to meet Jereth Romeil, Pente Senator
to the IPS.”

I smile, struggle not to let my jaw drop. Not just a politician, a
sitting Senator.

“She’s even prettier up close and clean,” Jereth says, and I blush, glad
Kristoff has taught me how to do that on command. Jereth looks at Henri, his
gaze suddenly sharp. “Is she as good as she appears, or is it just the draken?”

Henri gives a short bark of laughter, and shakes his head. “Have you
seen any other Ja have as much success with their draken? Most don’t even
bother, and those who do spend more money replacing beastboys than they make in
profit.”

I glance at him, startled. Am I really that important to the jakta?

“I’d like to see her for myself,” Jereth says slowly.

Argot waves a dismissive hand. “There are always games being held.”

Jereth shakes his head. “I don’t have time to wait. The Senate is
looking for talented entertainers. Is your girl good enough?” Both of us are
still, listening. Waiting. Jereth smiles, a tight smile that is full of
predatory knowledge. “You’re a betting man, Ja.”

Argot smiles faintly in answer.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Henri. Put your girl on the sands before I
leave and I will owe you a favor. And if she is everything you say she is, I
want you to listen to my proposition. And agree to consider it.”

I can feel the sudden wash of excitement sweeping over the Ja as he
lazily lifts his glass. I step forward, carefully pouring more kechei and he
sips it, not answering.

When the Senator begins to fidget, he sets his glass down and arches an
eyebrow.
 
“I will, of course, give the
Senate’s wishes due consideration.”

Jereth grimaces, swallows the last of his kechei and stands. His eyes
come over me, sweeping and calculating, and I force myself not to fidget, not
to step away from him. A smile turns his lips and he glances again at the Ja.
“It’s a good opportunity for you.”

Henri inclines his head, and Jereth turns. An AI waits for him when the
door glides open. I watch as he leaves.

In the sudden absence, I’m unsure what is to be expected of me.
 
“Send Zeke to me,” Henri says quietly. “Leave
the kechei and go. You’re dismissed for the night.”

I hesitate, but go.

Chapter
28

Juhan’tr

“I WANT TO do this with the least resistance possible,” Sadi says,
tapping a finger against the control panel.

“Then you should stay here,” Brando says.

“We’ll need her name to open the doors of the jakta.” The bodyguards
twist to glare at me and I shrug. “Sorry.”

“Sadi, it’s not safe,” Tin says.

She smiles, squeezing his hand a little. “It’s all right. At this point,
they’ve recognized the Leen; they know I’m here. You kept me from being shot at
the auction houses. You’ll manage here.”

Tin flushes, a nervous glance at Brando. He frowns at them and Sadi
turns. “Let them know we’re coming. And that we’d like to see the jakta and
Producers.” She turns to me, a challenging smile on her lips. “You ready to go
get Chosi’le?”

I nod and she stands, assessing me. “Change your clothes,” she says.
“Black would be good.” Brando laughs at that and she gives him a dark look.
“You wear it all the time,” she snaps.

“I’m a bodyguard with a death count. Your toy isn’t.”

That isn’t
exactly
true.

For the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long, I deliberately let my
emotions wash outward, watch Brando stiffen, Sadi shiver. When they look at me,
I smile an icy smile. “I’m not you. I’m not a haj. But I’m also not something
you want to overlook simply because my
race
is known for its passive nature.”

Brando nods, a flicker of amused admiration sliding over his psyche, and
then he steps aside and I go get dressed.

It’s harder to fool myself.

I stare at myself thirty minutes later, and I don’t recognize the Eleyi
staring back. My hair has grown long and sleek, my bright eyes hard. The black
synthetic leather hugs my legs, my vest hanging open, my wide, jeweled wings
spread behind me. A blade hangs at my waist, another tucked into my ankle-high
boots.

I glance again at the mirror, and Kentra’s words echo in my mind. For
the first time, it makes me smile. She was right—I’m
not
the same.

I’m dangerous, something Eleyi have never been.

Instinctively, I reach for Chosi’le. Her presence swims up in my mind,
so
there
I stagger, almost falling. It’s different. It’s like touching a
foreign mind, almost Other. She ignores me, anger rolling off her in waves. I
shudder and almost pull away. -
I’m here now, Chosi. I’m not leaving without
you.-

I feel her psyche flicker silently, before she’s gone again.

Brando is on the bridge, navigating the Leen into the landing bay. I
join him and look through the viewfinder, staring at the sprawling city of
Hubri rising up from the desert.

“Do they know we’re coming?” I ask and he laughs, a humorless noise.

“Oh, yeah. They know. The IPS Senator is meeting us,” Sadi says from
behind me, and I turn to look at her. She’s similarly dressed, black on black,
wearing the boots with her family crest. Her pale skin is startling against the
darkness of her clothes and hair. “But if we move our asses, we can probably
avoid him until we return to the Leen.”

Brando accelerates slightly and she smiles, tiny and satisfied, as we
race toward the landing bay.

There is a moment, as we disembark, that I worry we haven’t moved fast
enough and we’ll be delayed by a government official. I can feel the thoughts
of an entourage, intent and dedicated as they head toward us. I yank on Sadi’s
arm, pulling her into a dirty alley. Tin, a few steps ahead, pauses by a fruit
cart, his face turned away as the party hurries pass.

Sadi watches them go, and then smiles up at me. “Let’s find Henri
Argot’s jakta.”

Henri Argot.
He sounds so unassuming.
Not the name of a man who runs one of fastest growing jaktas on Pente. Not the
name of the man who owns my sister.

A humanoid child is staring at us, his eyes wide and suspicious.

I grin at him, wrapping a calming psychic thread around him. “Want to
earn a cred?” His eyes brighten and he nods eagerly. “Take us to the blood
arena the Argot jakta fights in.”

The boy’s eyes narrow. “Is this a joke?”

I shake my head and the boy snatches the cred from my hand before he
wheels and darts into the road. Clutching Sadi’s hand tightly, I follow him.

We take three turns before the boy trots up to a massive arena that
towers above us. It has the classic lines of all Pente arenas—curves and arches
and airy buttress that defy the bloody, brutal games it houses. A fairytale
home for a nightmare.

“This is where Argot’s glads fought last. But he won’t be back for
several weeks.”

Fury surges through me and Sadi glances at me, a nervous look. -
Calm
down. We can go to his jakta, but let’s talk to the arena manager first.-

I swallow hard and nod. The boy, sensing no more money forthcoming,
darts back into the street.

All around us, Pente and Others mingle and robotic AI drone odds for
fights while their Pente counterparts shout above them. I can feel a headache
building, but I can also feel Chosi. Wherever she is, it is close enough for
her psyche to twist around me, a barbed welcome.

Sadi straightens and beckons to Tin, who pushes through the crowd to the
arena entrance. When we reach the closed door, she presses her palm to the
keypad and it blinks an uncertain orange. But the door glides open. The entry
is a long, dim hall with holograms of the arena’s champions. A soft murmur
comes from down the hall—the patron’s club, where the most expensive betting is
done and influential spectators gather and eat with fighters of their choice.

“Where is the arena manager?” Sadi asks the small autobot AI that rolls
up to us silently.

“Follow me, please.”

Tin ushers Sadi before him. I’m conscious of his tense presence padding
along behind us as we follow the AI into a darker hall, toward a young Pente
male who frowns. “They don’t have an appointment.”

The AI says, “Sadiene Renult of New Earth.”

His frown deepens as he stares at us. “The arena is clean. Our slaves
are legal, and their contracts are honored.”

It startles her, but she doesn’t miss a step as she smiles coolly at
him. “Perhaps you should mind the door and let the manager worry about why I’m
here.”

He scowls but taps a quick command into the tablet on his wrist. A short
whispered conversation later, and he grudgingly opens the impressive doors
behind him.

The arena manager smiles as we enter, wrinkles crinkling around the
edges of his eyes. “Ms. Renult! What can I do for you?” He extends a hand. “I’m
Zeke Pallen, by the way.”

Sadi smiles, sitting neatly in the chair across from Zeke as Tin and I
flank her. “You have a gorgeous arena, Zeke.”

He preens. “It’s the most modern facility on Pente.”

 
I nudge Sadi. -
Ask him.-

Irritation flares in her for a moment, then is gone, and she smiles at
Zeke. “I’m sure it is amazing, and I look forward to attending an exhibit. But
I’m actually here on business.”

He nods, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a jakta. The one owned by Henri Argot.”

Zeke laughs. “So are half the free fighters on Pente.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

Zeke glances up at me, then flicks an appraising look at Sadi. “My
consort, Juhan’tr,” she says shortly. “What
does
it mean?”

“Argot is private, almost obsessively so. And he’s ridiculously
protective of his gladiators. He allows no visitors to the jakta, and very few
know its location. He wants them focused.” Zeke pauses. “You could wait until
his next fights.”

-Ask him to meet us here,-
I
tell her, not bothering to keep the desperation from my voice. I’ve waited a
long time—too long—and the idea of waiting weeks more is repulsive.

Sadi smiles, a brilliant smile that I’ve seen her use so many times.
It’s the same smile she used on the IPS, on the whore queen, even on her
father. On the Yalten queen in the auction house.

The smile that tells me she has no intention of losing this game.

“Will Argot meet patrons here?” Sadi asks, her voice silky.  

The manager hesitates and I feel greed flare in his psyche, the prospect
of a patron enough to intrigue him. Finally, he nods, a slight assent. “I’ll
see what I can do.”

Sadi smiles, standing and looping an arm in mine. “Excellent. I’m
staying on the Leen, and I will wait two days before I take my patronage
elsewhere.”

-What are you doing?-
I
shout, but she ignores me, and I’m forced to follow her as she sweeps out of
the manager’s office. He calls from the doorway, “Would you like a tour of the
arena, lady?”

She hesitates, but I can feel her emotions, the adrenaline and
excitement. Sadi is playing her favorite game. “No. Perhaps after I’ve met with
Argot. Until then, why bother?”

I wait until we’re out of the arena, past the gambling stalls, well on
our way to the Leen before I jerk her to a halt, stopping and catching her arm
so suddenly that she is snapped around. I feel the aggression rising off of
Tinex in hostile waves, but ignore him, focusing on Sadi and the satisfied
smirk on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sadi?” I snap. “You can’t threaten him!
That bastard is holding my sister.”

She shakes off my grip and her smile grows, a tiny bit. “You’re wrong,
Juhan. I’m Sadiene Renult-Harvine. I can threaten whomever I damn well please.
But even if that weren’t true, this is: Argot is a man looking for a profit. Do
you know the patronage fees on Pente?”

I shake my head and her eyes glitter with malicious amusement,
“Thirty-five percent of a patron’s gift to the arena is given to the jakta he
favors. Thirty-five percent. Argot might be secretive and hidden, but he’s a
business man. One thing will make him come running from his hills. And that’s
just been dangled in front of him.”