Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (30 page)

Chapter 34

Juhan’tr

Politicians look the same no matter the planet they come from. The Producers—the
five Pente elected by jakta owners and arena managers and patrons—are furious.
I can feel it washing out of the room into which we are ushered, washing over
me. Once, it might have been overwhelming. It might have threatened to drown
me. Now, I simply brush it aside and stride forward, ignoring their fury in
favor of the calm, almost bland expressions they turn on us. If they want to
play a game of politics, I will.

“Ms. Renult, Juhan’tr, thank you so much for agreeing to see us.”

Sadi smiles. I wonder how anyone in the galaxy can think that is
anything but a mask. “Of course. It’s the very least we could do.”

I don’t bother to smile, barely even acknowledge them. I’m here because
Sadi begged—demanded, as much as someone without papers of ownership can. And I
do owe her something. There is that.

“Are you hungry? There are refreshments,” the female Producer, Viria
Andal, says, waving at the girl standing in a corner. Sadi nods, even though I
want to scream, want to demand to know what they want, what they will do to
Henri.

-Patience, sweetheart,-
Sadi
says, brushing against me as she moves to sit with Viria.

Another approaches me with a genial smile.
 
He studies me, and I can feel the narrowing
of his thoughts, the questions and suspicions swirling behind his mental walls.

I have a sudden urge to topple them, to sweep into his mind and make him
mine so completely he would never realize he was anything else. It would be
easy, ridiculously easy, and he could order Argot to release Chosi’le from her
slavery.

The thought dances, tantalizing before me as the fool prattles about
something and the other Producers eye me with disdain and fear. And Sadi
twists, a smile on her lips that isn’t fake, because it’s for me. She calls to
me, and I let the idea slip away, let my grip on Jemison—
when did I do that?—
relax.

Something flickers behind the Producer’s eyes, but I ignore him, going
instead to Sadi and sitting too close to her.

The girl returns with a tray of Pente delicacies: flakey pastries
smeared with a paste of nuts and fruit, sand ants dipped in chocolate, tiny
squares of heavy cakes and extravagantly decorated truffles. For a moment, the
Producers busy themselves sitting, reaching for the food, claiming glasses of
wine. Sadi nibbles a cream cake, and I sit with an arm around her. She’s
nervous.

“The fire was absolutely horrible. A tragic accident,” Viria says, and
my eyes go to her. She’s pretty, an older woman with worry wrinkles and a warm
smile. And a mind sharper than the other Producers, one that is too suspicious
by half.

“It was awful,” Sadi agrees, lowering the cake.

I shrug. “A risk that comes with draken, I assume.”

Viria nods. “Of course.”

“Odd, though.” It’s one of the other Producers. “Draken have never
broken free in an arena. It’s rare even in the jaktas.”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” I answer lazily.

Sadi puts a hand on my knee, and I quiet, leaning back. “Do you know yet
what happened?” she asks, and this time her emotions aren’t fake. The worry in
her voice is all real.

“Well, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about, dear,” Viria says,
almost apologetic. “See, my colleagues here, they think—” She hesitates.

“What?” I ask, very softly, looking at the Producers.

“We think it was caused by you,” one says bluntly.

I laugh. Even knowing it was coming, it’s amusing, their air of offended
indignation.
  
“How, exactly, could he do
that?” Sadi asks, amused.

The Producers shift, but Viria answers, “Henri Argot says you threatened
him. He claims that you controlled the beasts, controlled the gladiators, and
forced them to kill each other.”

“Which is complete nonsense,” I say, and I weave my words with enough
conviction that it wraps around them, becomes their own. Except Viria. “I’m an
Eleyi. We’re peaceful, and even if we weren’t, we can’t manipulate people.”

One of the Producers is nodding, and another looks sympathetic. Viria’s
eyes narrow a little. “Eleyi are psychic. There’s no telling what you can do.”

“Have you met one who could do what you claim?” Sadi asks, and the woman
reluctantly shakes her head. “Then it’s hardly fair to threaten my consort, or
detain us, on only the words of an angry jakta owner.”

“That jakta owner is a respected member of our community,” Viria snaps,
“while you and your consort are not.”

Sadi’s eyes flash. “I’m Sadiene Renult-Harvine. Do you truly doubt my
word?”

Viria doesn’t answer and one of the others speaks up. “Of course not,
lady.”

I cock my head at Viria. “Why would I burn down the arena? What gain is
there for me?”

She opens her mouth, then hesitates and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

Leaning forward, I smile at her and select a pastry. “Before you accuse
someone of stripping the will of gladiators, of releasing draken and burning an
arena, you might bother to learn if there’s a motive. And you might consider if
angering such a person is wise. After all, if I
had
done such a thing,
what’s to stop me from doing it again?”

The Producer’s eyes narrow but she holds my gaze and I almost like her
for it. Almost.

“Henri Argot has demanded recompense for his draken. Two in that arena
had just been purchased by him. He’s also demanding you be Exiled from Pente.”

Sadi is shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. Argot has no proof that
any of this was our fault. Why on earth would Juhan’tr set fire to an arena he
was
in
? That his sister was in?”

Viria’s eyes widen and I reach for Sadi. -
Don’t bring her into this.-

She stops abruptly, as if aware she’s said something she shouldn’t but I
can see the Producer’s mind working, puzzling over this new information. She
stands abruptly. “You’re right, Ms. Renult. It would be ridiculous to punish
you for something we cannot prove.”

Sadi stands as well, albeit slower. She stares at the Producer. “That’s
all then?”

The other Producers stand with us, smiling as we leave, and I can’t
shake the feeling that something is wrong. This was too easy. I tuck Sadi
close, and touch Brando and Tin. -
I don’t trust them.-

They nod, and together we hurry back to the Leen. I smile and Sadi
glances up. “What is so amusing?”

“This is exactly how it felt when we met, and first went to the Leen.”

She laughs suddenly and from behind us, Tin mutters, “If we can make the
ship without another assassination attempt, all the better.”

“
Another
attempt?” Brando hisses and suddenly I’m laughing at the
absurdity of it all. Sadi grins over at me and I spread my wings to shelter her
as we hurry to the safety of our ship.

On board, Brando brushes past us, headed to the bridge. “We need to get
off-planet.”

“What?” I stop cold. “What are you talking about?”

Brando pauses, looking at me. “We aren’t leaving. But we’ll be safer off-planet,
or at least somewhere the Producers aren’t on our doorstep. I know what your
priority is. I understand it. Mine is Sadi’s safety.”

“I can’t leave,” she says softly and Brando curses. “I promised him,
Brando,”

“Your father is going to be furious,” he says, almost wearily. As if he
knows there was no point arguing.

Sadi goes on tiptoes and kisses him softly on the lips, startling both
of us, before heading to her room. “I’ll tell him.”

I follow her into her bedroom, and the door slides shut behind us. I can
feel the shadow of my freedom hanging over us like a brilliant cloud, begging
to be acknowledged. “Will you tell me why?” I ask, toying with the papers I’ve
been carrying since I signed them.

She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pretend not to understand my meaning.
“Because you were right. I can hardly expect you to change the perception of
slaves when you are a slave.” She pauses and then adds, “And because I saw how
much you hated it. How much it has changed you. I don’t want to be the one
holding the leash that you despise.”

I catch her as she steps away, catch her tiny face between my hands and
tilt her head back, so that I can see her expression. It’s carefully empty, her
mental walls up so that I get no sense of what she is feeling, if she feels
anything. Nervous for some reason, I lick my lips and her eyes dart down,
following the quick movement. Startled, I almost release her, almost push her
away. Catch myself before I can, knowing it will hurt her and she doesn’t
deserve that. Instead, I wrap my gratitude around her and kiss her forehead,
whispering, -
Thank you, Sadi.-

We both jump when Tinex hammers on the door. She calls out and it glides
open, revealing her worried looking bodyguard. “Comm link, Sadi. Larkin says
it’s urgent.”

Alarm flares through her before she nods. He keys up a command, and the
wall behind her bed dissolves into a screen. Larkin is rumpled, exhausted, his
face dirty. What the hell happened that could so dishevel such an orderly man?

“What is it, Larkin?” Sadi says, pulling her hair loose and letting it
spill down her back.

“Ms. Renult, where are you?” His voice is odd, strangely tense.

“Pente,” she answers, tugging her boots off. “Why?”

“You need to come home. Now. Academi is out of your way; I’ll send an
aide for Zoe.”

Sadi is very still, her boot half-zipped as she looks at the screen, at
the tidy man who orders her father’s life. “Why? Why do I need to come home?”

Larkin’s face twists, and even without being able to sense his psyche, I
can see grief written on his face, so plain and obvious. “I’m so sorry,
Sadiene. It’s your father. He was shot this morning.”

-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.-
I
stand at the viewfinder, watching Pente recede as the Leen careens into space.
Already, Chosi is so distant, too far for me to fully touch her mind. There is
only the slightest flicker of acknowledgement, and then she closes her mind.
Even though I know she feels my regret, for a moment I wonder if Henri has been
telling the truth. Maybe Chosi’le does want to stay here. Maybe in some strange
way, she is happy.

“You could still stay,” Brando says from behind me, his voice hoarse. I
shrug, and shake my head.

No, I can’t. I can’t desert her when she needs me, no matter how much
Chosi’le does. I force myself to say what I’ve refused to think about, until
now. Even letting the words form hurts something deep inside me. “Chosi doesn’t
want me here. And Sadi needs me now. Henri won’t kill her before I come back.”

“She appreciates you being here,” he says and I snort. That was pure
speculation and we both know it. It has been less than two hours since Larkin
called us back to New Earth, two hours since the bombshell that still seems to
rin-g in every corner of the ship. Sadi nodded, a tiny gesture of acceptance,
told Tin to plot a course, and ordered us from her bedroom. She hasn’t emerged
since.

“Is she going to be like this the entire way to New Earth?” I ask,
following the bodyguard to the bridge. Tin is half sleeping, the ship perfectly
capable of flying itself.

Brando shrugs and slides into his seat. “There are very few things Sadi
relies on. Her father will always be a shadow over her life, and I will always
keep her safe. One of those things has just been threatened, and it has left
her shaken. She’s pulling away, which is normal for Sadi. Give her time.”

I bite my tongue, thinking time is something we seem short on. I force
myself to I focus on Brando. His psyche is coated with guilt and I think I
understand why. The Senator has been attacked. Larkin refused to give us any
more details than that over an open comm link.  As head of security,
Brando will shoulder most of the blame, even if he was halfway across the
galaxy when the attack occurred
. -It wasn’t your fault.-

He looks back, giving me a vicious glare. I meet it evenly, daring him
to disagree. Irritated, he turns back to the control panel.

“How long until we reach New Earth?” I ask.

The Leen says, bleakly, “Seventy-two hours.”

I stare into space, the star-speckled black racing past. And wonder if
seventy-two hours is too long.

Chapter 35

Juhan’tr

The Senatorial estate on New Earth dwarfs the one at the Capitol. And
it’s gorgeous, all wild growth forest, waving fields of corn and hay, and
massive orchards of fragrant apples and tiny cherry trees heavy with lush
blossoms. The house is a large, three-story affair with large river rocks
helping it to blend into the natural setting. A pasture of rolling grass holds
a small herd of horses, nibbling lazily, looking up as the Leen streaks
overhead, heading for one of the outlying buildings where the Senator’s staff
works.

-This is where you grew up?-
I
ask her, not bothering to contain my shock.

She rests a hand on my shoulder, and I reach up, squeezing it. -
It
was a good place to call home,-
she says softly.

“They know we’re here,” Tin says, and I glance at where he is looking.
Zoe is standing with a tall bodyguard, Larkin neatly dressed despite the
exhaustion that makes him sway. Or maybe it’s not exhaustion; maybe it’s the
force of the Leen’s thrusters as we hover and settle.

“Daddy isn’t with them,” Sadi says, her voice empty. I search her psyche
for some clue to how she’s feeling but she is blank, utterly empty, and it
worries me. I almost reach for her, but the ramp to the Leen slides open and I
am hit with the feelings of Zoe and Larkin.

Grief. Choking, so thick I gag and cough, trying to clear the bitter
taste from my tongue. Sadi glances at me, curious but not—not really. I reach
out, catching her arm, and she shakes me off without meeting my eyes.

Hurt, I stumble after her.

“Where is he?” Sadi asks, her voice quiet and empty.

“Sadiene, I’m—” Larkin begins but she holds up a hand, stopping his
words.

“
Where
?”

“His suite,” Zoe answers, her voice so rough with tears I barely
recognize it as hers. Sadi nods once and turns, stalking across the perfectly
manicured lawn, crushing flowers under her boots as she goes. I don’t know what
I expected of Sadi’s home, but this isn’t it.

“Juhan,” Zoe says, startling me from my thoughts, “go with her.”

I hesitate. She might not want me, but I’m free, and her emotions are
too unstable for me to trust her alone. Spreading my wings, I fly across the
lawn to land at her side.
 
Her eyes flick
to me for a moment, to my wings, but she doesn’t say anything as she mounts the
stairs to the front door. The large, airy foyer is empty. From the utter quiet,
I wonder if the entire house might be.

Wordlessly, she climbs the stairs to Harvine’s suite and I catch her
hand, offering what little support I can. I should do more; I just don’t know
how. The door she finally stops in front of is closed, and I can sense no one
on the other side. I open my mouth to warn her, but she shakes her head
quickly, and shoves it open.

Sadi moves to the bed like a sleepwalker, her expression dazed as she
stares at the shell of what used to be her father. She sinks onto the side of
the bed, and it barely disturbs the body.

“He looks peaceful,” she murmurs, her voice so blank it sends a chill up
my spine. I glance at him. “Daddy never looked this peaceful.”

I reach out, touching her gently on the arm. She looks up at me, tears
glittering in her eyes, looking for the first time since I have met her,
dangerously close to falling apart. “What can I do?”

“I don’t understand,” she says, “I don’t get how this could happen. He
has security—a team trained by
Brando
of all people. He isn’t even
working on legislation that’s controversial. Why now, after all the years on
the Senate, why now?”

“You don’t know that he was targeted,” I counter. She laughs, slightly
hysterical. And I know she’s right—who would accidentally kill someone as
high-profile as Senator Harvine of New Earth? And who would do something that
stupid
while on his home planet? It was an open secret that the people of New Earth
adored their Senator, adored his stance on things like slavery.

That he died the day after I attacked a jakta and burned an arena is
something I am trying hard not to think about.

She’s right, and the thought makes my blood run cold. The Senator was
targeted, purposely killed on his own planet. Of all places in the galaxy, he
should have been safe here.

I wrap an arm around her, and we sit in silence next to her dead father,
listening to the soft buzz of the fan
. -What will you do?-
I ask, when
her tears have finally slowed.

She straightens, and I feel the core of angry stubbornness seething
inside her, pushing aside grief and guilt. -
I’m going to find the bastards
who killed my father.-

“Daddy liked having his staff on the grounds,” Sadi says to me, leading
the way through the hedge maze toward the imposing block building that intrudes
and clashes with the natural beauty of the estate. “It started when we were
younger. It was easiest to work from home, where we were.”

“What about your mother?” I ask, aware suddenly that both this lovely
estate and this strong woman-child should have a female figure guiding and
shaping them.

A sorrow, old and sweet, passes her psyche and Sadi murmurs, “Mother
died when I was a little girl. A plague that swept New Earth—do you remember
it?”

I nod, even though I don’t. New Earth is not much studied on Eleyiar,
not when Others are so much more dangerous to us. “There was one time we
thought Daddy might remarry. But the truth is, he was happy being married to
his work, and we didn’t want a stepmother. And he never quite stopped loving
Mother,” she adds, sniffling a little.

“He raised you alone?” I say, startled, “As busy as he was?”

“He had the help of the staff. We were never neglected,” she says
sharply and I send a wordless apology that makes her relax. She steps out of
the maze, and continues, “By the time he was elected to the IPS, I was headed
to Academi, and Zoe was in the care of her governess. He did his best, and it
was a good childhood, even if it was unconventional.”

I silently compare it to mine, surrounded constantly by the emotions and
affirmations of my mother, my father, and sister, a house of laughter and worry
and love. The quiet murmur of my parents’ voices when I was in my hammock
waiting for sleep, the gentle press of my sister’s thoughts.

Sadi’s isolated upbringing by a Senatorial staff is alien,
incomprehensible to me. I shake my head to clear the thought of it as we enter
the large building.

The foyer is packed, staff and aides standing around looking stunned and
crying, security teams clustered near the doors, throwing glances at Brando
where he stands at Zoe’s shoulder.

Larkin sits alone, looking utterly lost in a sea of grief. Sadi goes to
him, and sits on the couch at his side, her eyes gentle. “I need to know what
happened, Larkin,” she says, softly.

“We were leaving the Terra League building,” he says, voice blank. “A
routine vote—the League didn’t support the new games passed by the IPS. They wanted
Danick to change it, and he argued with them.” A bitter expression twists his
face. “They expected the impossible from him. He was one Senator, one of
hundreds. They expected him to do miracles and move mountains. It was absurd.”

“Larkin,” Sadi snaps, and the man focuses on her.

“We were stopped as we were leaving. The emissary wanted a word. It was
crowded, and I moved away—for a moment, lady; I swear it was only a moment.”
Tears are standing in his eyes, falling down his cheeks, his hands trembling as
they clench around Sadi’s. “It happened so fast. I was three steps away,
waiting for the hover, and people were screaming and my god, there was so much
blood.” He collapses against Sadi, sobbing, and she murmurs softly into his
hair, something useless and soothing as he cries. “It’s my fault, Sadiene. I
should have done something!”

Brando crouches next to Larkin. “Stop,” he says harshly. “Because unless
you somehow neglected to mention pulling a trigger, I don’t see how this could
possibly be your fault.”

“I should have been there, shielded him somehow.”

“You’re his chief of staff, Larkin,” Brando hisses, “not the fucking
chief of security. That’s my job and I was watching an arena burn while our
Senator lay dying.”

“Stop,” Sadi whispers, but it cuts like a knife through the room,
stilling both men and an argument that is growing ridiculous. “It’s none of our
faults. The fault lies with the shooter. Do we know who it was? Or why?”

Larkin nods. “It was a Pente, Sadiene. He killed himself, but we assume
it was in protest to the Senator’s stance on the Centuriad games.”

Sadi has gone white, and sways. I reach for her and she flinches,
pulling away and standing, making it one motion so as not to worry the audience
of staff around us.

“You are, of course, all invited to the funeral,” she says, her voice
strong, despite the shock filling her psyche. “But if you would kindly give us
time, as a family, to grieve.”

It’s a dismissal, and they seem surprised. She hesitates, then: “I would
like to speak to you all, the day after the funeral. If you could find an hour
or so.”

A few heads nod in acknowledgement, but most turn and file away. I’d be
surprised if any of them did not return to hear what Sadiene Renult has to say.

She stands with her back to us the entire time the staff files out, and
finally, as the door clangs shut for the last time, as Brando murmurs orders to
the six men on the Senator’s security team, I go to her. “Sadi, there is no way
you could have known—”

“You think I blame myself for this?” she interrupts, turning to me with
wide eyes.

Of
course she does. How could she not?

She laughs, a low, incredulous sound. “That’s amazing; it really is.
Especially for a psychic as strong as you. You can burn arenas, and the ripples
of your leeching can be felt a fucking galaxy away, but you can’t read that I
think
ALL
of this is your fault?” She’s screaming now.

Zoe gives us a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell her,” Sadi snaps.

Anger flares in my chest and I narrow my eyes. “I’m not your slave. You
cannot order me to do whatever you wish,” I say, my voice low.

A cold smile fills her eyes and she twists. “A Pente killed our
father.
 
A Pente, who has no real reason
to hate him, assassinated a sitting Senator of New Earth. Why would he do
something so bloody stupid?” she asks, her voice dripping disdain. “Oh, I know!
A fucking insane Eleyi burned one of their arenas and threatened a jakta, freed
their draken. Could that have
anything
to do with this, you think?”

Zoe goes pale and looks at me, anger simmering in her aura. “This is his
fault?”

It is. I burned a damn arena with her at my side, exposed my entire
race—and Sadi. Guilt washes over me, and I struggle to make sense of it. I did
what was needed. Sadi doesn’t matter, can’t matter. I’m confused, and feeling
the sisters’ anger, my temper snaps and I jerk forward, grabbing Sadi by the
arms and shaking her. “Is it my fault I was enslaved and sold to a rich little
bitch who likes to play games with people’s lives? Or that my sister was sold
to a psychopath?” I shake her again. “I’m sorry about your father; I truly am.
But I will do anything for Chosi’le.
Anything
.”

I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or myself.

The blow catches me by surprise. I had expected one to the back, Brando
defending Sadi. I don’t expect her to twist suddenly, to bring her hand up and
catch me full in the face with the heel of her palm. Pain explodes in my
vision, my eyes tearing as I release her and stumble away.

I catch her intent a split second before her foot clips my forehead and
I drop like a stone into blackness.