Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (13 page)

“What did you mean, in the medhall?” he asks.

“When?”

“About the spectacle,” he says quietly.

I sigh. I knew he would ask. And I knew I would have to explain tonight.
It doesn’t mean I want to. “Kristoff thinks I’ll be killed in the arena. Not at
first, but soon. He had an idea—a plan to make me a spectacle.”

“How?”

“Argot bought the Eleyi as beastboys. But I’m too well-suited for the
arena. So why not mount me on a draken, where I could be seen and untouchable?”

The quiet from Jemes is so complete it startles me, and I glance up,
trying to see if he’s asleep. His grip tightens when I move, and I whimper as
pain flares in me. He immediately lets me go and sits up.

“It’s insanity,” he says tightly. “The draken are too wild. Too
unknown.”

“They’re psychic,” I say, and he stops. “I’m not completely sure, but I
think—I think they might be. It would explain much of why they seem like shadow
and smoke, but they’re substantial.”

“It’s an illusion?” he asks, and I nod. “Are the teeth? The fire?
Because those
will
kill you, Brielle.”

I lie back down. “I know that. But I can do this. And it’s my best
chance at survival.”

“Kristoff has nothing to lose if you die. Why would you trust him so
blindly?” he demands.

I hesitate, but it needs to be said. “Kristoff will lose everything if
anything happens to me. Argot will take my purchase price out of his
emancipation.”

That silences Jemes for so long that I think he goes to sleep. I am
almost asleep, almost lost to dreams of Juhan and home, when I hear him
whisper, “You’re not doing this alone, Brielle. Not this.” Something brushes my
forehead—his lips—before he settles me more comfortably against him and we both
give in to sleep.

Chapter 16

Juhan’tr

TINEX WAKES ME.

I dress silently, and as I am tugging on my boots, I glance at Tin,
slouched by my door. “How angry is she?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You can never tell with Sadi. Things I think will infuriate
her don’t. And she did want you to be remembered.” He sips his coffee and
shrugs. “But memorable and suicidal are two very different things.”

“I’m not suicidal,” I protest, and he hauls me to my feet, shoving my
mug at me and leaving the room. Because I have no choice, I follow.

“Challenging the IPS like that? That’s suicide. Some will attack you
just for the hell of it, because they think it’s a game. Not all the Senators
are like Harvine. Most aren’t. Most are vicious, and can’t see past their own
species. And profits.”

“I don’t care about that. And I didn’t intend to challenge them,” I
snap. “I just reacted—I’m not going to sit by while a senator uses my own
people against me. That’s bullshit.”

 
Tin whirls to face me, his
expression a blend of fear and frustration. “You don’t get it. You might not
care, and you might not have meant to challenge them, but you told a senator
you could beat him. Beat all of them at their own game. That
is
a
challenge. You say shit like that, and you don’t just put yourself at risk. You
endanger Sadi.” His psyche is fierce but sour with fear, and that stops me.

He turns, stalking toward the hangar where we have been practicing. I
trail him slowly, thinking. Is that what I have done? And should I care? Sadi
is my owner, and despite her decent—even
good
—treatment
of me, should I care that her life is at risk because of me? I owe her no
loyalty. Even as I feel guilty for the thought, I remind myself that I didn’t
choose this. Didn’t want any of it.

I enter the large hangar, and catch the practice stick that Tin throws
at me. On the other side of the empty space, Zoe and Brando are dancing through
the kuduva forms, a silent flurry of motion that in the corner of my eye.

How early must they have risen, to be here before us? From the looks of
it, they’ve been sparring for a while.

“Go through your forms,” Tin snaps. Annoyed, I settle into position,
emptying my mind of everything but the motions. I glide smoothly through them,
glad I found time to practice. A shrill shout shivers through the room, and my
concentration breaks as I glance over. Brando has a dagger at Zoe’s throat,
leaning over her.

“Do you yield?” he asks.

She snarls something and it surprises a laugh from Brando. It’s a
surprisingly light sound. It startles me. I haven’t ever seen that much emotion
on his face.

A sparring stick slams between my wings—a solid, bruising blow, and I
crumple, pain flaring between my shoulders and into my wings. I flap them weakly
before the pain makes me gasp. I glare up at Tin, who stands over me,
unrepentant and cold. “If you want to risk your life, fine. If you risk Sadi’s,
you had damn well better be able to defend yourself, or expect a beating in
training. I’m not going to let her get killed because you’re careless.”

He lets the stick clatter next to me, stepping back. “Do the forms
again.”

“Tin.” Zoe’s voice rings out sharply and the bodyguard relaxes into the
Tranquil form as she stalks over.

“Madam,” he says, stiffly, formally.

“You know better,” she says, furious. “He is an initiate and you are a
master. You disgrace yourself.”

Tin flinches and she turns to me, dismissing the guard completely.
“Juhan, a moment?”

I nod. “Of course.”

Zoe leads the way out of the hangar, into the damp, grey garden. There
are a few birds chirping in the trees, and I look for them.  She watches
me until I finally look at her. “What can I do for you, Zoelle?”

“What are you doing with my sister?” she asks. The question is blunt and
I can feel the current of nerves running through her. Her eyes are steady
though.

“I love her,” I answer, threading my words with manipulation. “She loves
me.”

Zoe laughs, shaking her head. “That lie might work for the IPS; it might
even work for Daddy. Hell, it even fools
Brando
.
But this is
my
sister.”

-What does that mean?-
I
ask.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react to my mind in hers. -
Sadi loves
Brando. Always has, always will. Whatever the reason she’s with you, love isn’t
it.-

“It isn’t my business. It’s between you and Sadi. But don’t let your
choices hurt her. Take the training seriously,” she adds out loud.

She starts to turn away and I catch her arm. For a heartbeat, something
primal and dangerous rises in her gaze, but she shoves it down. I release her
and she cocks her head at me as I ask, “If she is in such danger, why doesn’t
she train too?”

Zoe smiles and glances at Brando, standing in conversation with Tin. “Do
you really think Brando protected her for five years without teaching her to
protect herself? Sadi can fight better than anyone here but him.” She shrugs,
walks away, her voice just outside my mental walls. -
But she always said she
fought best with words.-

Chapter 17

Chosi’le

I WAKE TO CHAOS AND FURY.

Kevan’s eyes are cold when I open mine, and Jemes is throwing what
little he owns in a bag. His half of our narrow bed is cold, and I have a
moment to wonder how long he has been awake before I force myself up. “What’s
wrong?”

“This idiot thinks he can be your aide—that he will serve no one but you,”
Kevan says evenly.

“I can,” Jemes snaps. “I’m not bound to the arena. I was bought as a
service slave. I can serve
her
.”

“Spectacles earn their aides,” Kevan observes coolly. His gaze drifts
over me, and I shiver under the cold disregard.

“It’s being approved,” Jemes says, shoving my medicine in his bag. I
open my mouth to protest, but his last words hit me, and I go still.

“You spoke to Prator?” I ask.

Jemes turns to me, and I almost shrink under his fierce glare. “Of
course not. I spoke to Primus, requested to serve you. I’m not supposed to be
in the arena anyway. You want to do something so fucking stupid, fine. But I’ll
do it with you. Maybe then you won’t be so eager to throw away your life.”

I struggle to contain my flinch. He can’t know how much I hate it here,
how desperate I am to escape any way I can. I shrug. “Fine with me. If you want
to throw your life away shoveling draken dung. It’s your choice.”

A spark of amusement and then it’s gone—but it lets me know that as
angry as Jemes is, he’s more frightened than anything. And in the quiet of my
own mind, behind my mental walls, I will admit that I am glad he is here, that
he will remain with me.

Strange and unlikely as it seems, the quiet slave has become important
to me.

After breakfast we walk through the jakta, past the practice sands. I
feel the glads watching me, but ignoring intrusive emotions and hostile eyes
has become easier as time goes on.

A thick Pente with almost no hair stops us before we reach the
beastpens. “You’re the new draken girl?” I nod. It’s as good a term as any, and
better than others. “Don’t know what your mentor is thinking. The last dozen
draken keepers were killed within a month. The Ja is crazy to risk a glad of
your skill.” His unfriendly eyes slide past me, to Jemes carrying our meager
belongings. “Who’s this?”

“My aide,” I say, not explaining further. I don’t like how he expects me
to answer, so I twitch my wings open, a silky wave, and step forward. “Who has
been caring for the draken since the last death?”

“I have,” he snaps. “I’m the beastmaster, ain’t I? And a good riddance
it’ll be to have the devils off my hands.”

I feel a stir of anger from a psyche far in the mountain and I want to
soothe it. I can’t
Speak
, though. My
body aches in reminder of how I am limited. Instead, I let a feeling of
commiseration unfurl. The other mind seems to hesitate, before derision fills
it and it slips away.

“Now you’re here, you can care for them. They don’t come out of their
caves but for practice, and are passing fond of goat, when I get it.”

“Do I answer to you?” I ask and my gaze on him grows heavy. I feel his
hesitation, the urge to lie but eventually he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m just here if there’s a problem and to requisition things you
need for your beasts.”

I nod, pleased with my limited autonomy. It’s more than I expected.

“Can I go in?” I ask, impatient to get started. My life will depend on
these creatures. The sooner they become accustomed to me, the better. And
sleeping in their cave for the one night has not accomplished much.

The beastmaster—I recall his name is Krato—growls, for a moment sounding
like one of his creatures. “They’ll wait. I’ll show you your quarters, then be
done with you.”

I’m tempted to ignore him. But this is important, and it would not be a
bad thing to be in the beastmaster’s good graces. Reluctantly, I follow him
through the cages of beasts, now slowly waking. He points to a large pen where
a flock of chickens clucks, mingling with the goats and cow and sheep. “This is
where you’ll find fresh meat for your draken. If I can get goats, I’ll set them
aside for you. Most of the others don’t care for it much.”

He keeps walking and motions to a small building. “The armory is where
you’ll get most of what you need, but there are a few things in my stables that
they won’t have. Let me know if you take anything but you have free use of it.”

“I didn’t think beastboys had a lot this easy in the jakta,” I blurt,
surprised.

Krato grunts. “They live short lives. Ja Argot tries to provide the
tools to prolong them as much as possible. It’s my job to make it as smooth as
I can, and even then, it won’t be an easy lot.” He stops just short of the
tunnel entrance, and I imagine I can feel the warmth emanating from the
draken’s hold. He nods at a small building to the side of the tunnel. “These
are your rooms. Two, which is more than most get.”

I peek into the dusty rooms—a large bedroom with a dirty, unmade bed, an
open room with a tiny kitchen in one corner, and littered with clothes and
tools I don’t recognize. A small door hides what I assume is a bathroom.

It’s much more than I expected and I can feel Jemes’ surprise as he
looks in over my head.

Krato picks up a small round disk and hands it to me. It’s thick,
heavier than I expect, and I frown at it. “All the draken wear harnesses, and they
answer to this. You use it to punish them, and when they leave the hold, to
control them. It has a whip function—a laser that can be used to herd. It’s
similar to the laser brand the slavers use.”

My stomach twists, and I struggle not to drop the disgusting thing. It’s
a torture tool, whatever name it’s given. “I don’t need that,” I force out, and
I’m proud of how even my voice is.

Krato makes a harsh noise—a laugh. He shakes his head, and stumps to the
door. “The Ja expects you to use it. And it will keep you alive in the arena.
Don’t take the draken out unharnessed—Ja will kill you for it.”

I believe him.

“If you need anything, I’m here. Try not to get yourself killed,” Krato
snaps, and walks away.

Jemes watches me. He’s terrified. Even if I weren’t psychic, I could see
the sheen of
 
sweat on his brow, the
pounding of his pulse under his thin skin.

“Do you want to stay here? Get us settled?” I ask.

He shakes his head adamantly. “I’m your aide.”

I grin as he follows me to the tunnel.

I maneuver through the tunnel easily, and once, Jemes touches my arm.
“You’ve done this before,” he says.

It’s not a question but I nod.

The draken are awake when I step around the last curve, and all of them
are watching me. I hear Jemes’ gasp, feel fear filling him, almost choking me.
One of the draken—a smoky gray—hisses, and spits a plume of fire into the air,
the heat scorching my face. The shadows shift with the slight hiss of scales, a
pressure on my mind that makes my teeth ache. Until I push back. And the
illusion falters.

A feeling of deep dislike fills me, a feeling that isn’t mine. It’s from
the draken. My eyes slide up to the massive black draken with his watching
eyes, and serpentine neck twisted as he stares at us. Wide wings are tucked
against his sleek back--the longer I watch him, the more the illusions around
him fade. I want to speak mind-to-mind, want to tell them I’m a friend, but my
hands are tied and it makes me angry.

The small draken near the entrance is agitated, throwing worry and
nerves, and another one—a black so dark his scales look blue—twists around her,
soothing.

I’m upsetting them. Not the impression I wanted to leave. I settle on
the ground, and one of them hisses. The big black shifts and the other draken
settle for a moment.

“Why did you agree to be my aide?” I ask Jemes, patting the ground next
to me.

He shrugs. “Why not? I was sold as a service slave. Might as well serve
you and try to keep you alive.”

I’m aware of the draken’s eyes watching us, but try to ignore them. “Why
are you here? The Sine is an IPS planet; you are protected from slavery.”

He sighs, and I feel sadness overriding his fear. One of the draken
shuffles, settles tensely. “My mother. She was ill, and the medicine was too
expensive. There was nothing keeping me home, especially if my mother died. So
I offered. I would be sold as a service slave, and Mother would live.”

I stare at him for so long he shifts and finally whispers, “Don’t. Don’t
look at me like that, Brielle.”

To make him happy, I look away. But I want to cry. It’s something Juhan
would do.

He reminds me of home.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, nodding at the draken. I shake my
melancholy, and look at them. All of them are watching us, but there is
something different about them now. It’s a tense quiet, almost as if they are
waiting. For me. And I can’t Speak to them, can’t train them unless I can
communicate.

“I need to speak to Prator.” I sigh.