Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (29 page)

His eyes narrow and he glances at Chosi’le, who stands defiantly in a
fire-free sphere, the black draken wrapped around her. She looks tragic and
fierce—she breaks my heart. “You would do that for her?” he asks, clearly
surprised.

I laugh, hysterically. Twist my mind around the gladiators, so easily manipulated.
 
We watch them attack each other, mindlessly
hacking away until only one is standing, bleeding from so many cuts it’s hard
to find a place on his body that is
not
bleeding. He looks around, slowly, his eyes wide and disbelieving. My stomach
turns, guilt rushing through me, stronger than the intoxicating tide of power.
I have to finish it. I nudge him, so gently. He palms a knife, hesitates, and
then pulls it across his own throat. Blood gushes in a frothing fountain and he
falls to his knees. The black draken spits another plume of flames and all the
gladiators light up, human torches. The gray screeches once more, and spirals
away, fleeing. Across the arena, fires rage, people screaming as they fight to
get free. The stink of blood and smoke cover the stench of fear. On the sands,
the premtha pack has settled, curling around each other like lazy cats.

My sister stands there, her white dress covered in soot and blood,
framed by her draken.

“There is nothing I won’t do for her,” I say softly, exhaustion tugging
at me. Guilt and anger war in me, and for a heartbeat, I almost forget that I
need Prator alive. Killing him would be so easy. I look back at the arena, at
Chosi. She’s fingering the necklace that held her charm, her eyes on my box.
Without thinking, I reach for her. I shudder at the touch of her mind, the fury
and fear and disgust sweeping through me.

She didn’t want this. She doesn’t want me. Bile burns in my throat, and
I look away. I would do anything, but what can I do when she doesn’t want it? I
shudder, revulsion sweeping through me. All around me is panic and fear and
it’s my fault—all of it is because of me. My control falters, and I drop them: the
cats, the beasts, the fire. The chaos stutters briefly, but I’m already turning
away. Desperate to escape. Chosi’s voice, harsh and accusing, rings in my head,
mixing with my own thoughts, until for a moment, there is no separating the
two. There is only loathing and fear and the unrelenting question.

What
have I done?

Chapter 32

Juhan’tr

The streets are in chaos behind us when we board the Leen. Far above us
and fading into the distance, the draken are flying for the mountains. Sadi
wants to talk—wants to push me for an explanation—but I ignore her as I make a
beeline for my room, and strip out of my dirty clothes.

I turn on the shower, desperate to rinse away the stink of smoke and
death. I told Argot I would do anything to get Chosi’le back and I meant it.
But as the enormity of what I’ve done, who I’ve killed, crashes over me, I spin
and retch, throwing up in the toilet. I heave until the muscles in my belly
ache, until there is nothing left to throw up, until I collapse, crying, on the
floor. Tears for the dead and my sister and myself. Tears for betraying the
biggest secret my people have ever had. Sadi crouches next to me, and I lean
into her, curling around her as she strokes my hair and allows me to grieve. It
occurs to me, briefly, to wonder who is doing damage control. But the worry is
easily washed away by grief and, eventually, with Sadi humming in my ear, even
grief gives way to sleep.

I wake to arguing. Sadi’s fingers are sifting softly through my hair, at
odds with the fierceness in her psyche and voice. “I don’t give a fuck what
he’s done; the government isn’t touching him. They can’t prove a damn thing.”

“Sadi, he admitted it to Prator,” Tin says, desperately.

She swears, and her voice drops. “Don’t you dare repeat that, Tinex.
Don’t you ever repeat that, not even to yourself, not even alone. You will tell
them exactly what we agreed: we met for lunch to look into patronage. We
attended a match. The draken escaped. We know
nothing
.”

There is a moment of silence, and I can feel her anger and fear
battering me. “Sadi, I know you want to protect him. But what if he does it
again? You saw—” He cuts off, and sighs. “Of course I’ll back him. Just be
careful. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s used his strength to protect me, Tin.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t turn on you.”

It hurts something deep inside me, something very Eleyi, hearing that.
But a larger part is pleased to be seen as such a threat that Tin would worry
about Sadi’s safety with me. I open my eyes, staring at him, and the bodyguard
startles.

“I wouldn’t hurt Sadi. If I was going to, don’t you think I would have
done so by now?” I ask quietly.

He looks uncomfortable for a long minute, and then I let my eyes drop.
Sadi motions to Tin as I stretch, and the other man slips away. She’s quiet as
I sit up. Somehow, we’ve ended up in my bed, and it occurs to me it is far too
small for the two of us. I rub a hand over my face, aware of the scent of smoke
still clinging to me.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

“Bad enough. The Producers are calling for your head.” She offers me a
smile, but it’s sick and forced. I can feel the questions swirling through her
and for a heartbeat I consider demonstrating what I can do rather than
explaining. Then I remember the signed papers, the faith she’s put into me, and
I ignore the urge. “I didn’t realize you were this strong. Even on Renlarte,
it…it was different,” she says softly.

“You know that Eleyi can pick your thoughts up? How we can read your
emotions?” She nods and I shrug. “Not all of us can do that. The weakest Eleyi
can’t do more psychically than any Other. The range of strength goes from the
very weak to the strong, the Eleyi that even we shun. Eleyi who are so
psychically talented, mental walls mean nothing. They can see every thought and
secret without even trying. They can make you do anything. For them, it takes
effort to
not
impose their will, over those around them. To not shape
the world and the elements.”

She looks sick, but swallows. “Is that what you can do?”

I laugh. “No. I’ve only ever met one Eleyi that strong, a hermit by
choice. My tutor forced me to visit. I’m strong, though. Stronger than most. Some
Eleyi speculate twins are born strong, because we communicate psychically even
in the womb. My tutor taught me to do more though. With a little effort and the
right kind of mind—gladiators, who are used to taking orders, for instance—I
can impose my will on those around me. I can force a draken to go berserk, and
break its chains.” My voice is quiet, and she’s still. So still sitting next to
me, almost as if she is afraid to disturb me. “I can make gladiators stand
still in the face of an attack, not defending themselves. I can order them to
kill each other, to kill themselves. And I can manipulate the destruction they
cause until there is nothing left. Nothing but ashes—that’s what I did to the
assassins. I killed them, Sadi.”

I feel her shock, her revulsion, feel it thicken in the room before she
takes a deep breath and the emotions are gone, almost as if they’d never
existed.

Except, I know.

“Why has no one ever known this?” she asks.

I laugh, the noise slightly hysterical even to my ears. “What would
happen, do you think? Would the Senators and politicians want Eleyi for spies?
Would the Scarlet Stain still want them in the bedrooms? Serving as bodyguards
and advisors and the myriad of other positions? If the galaxy knew, how easy do
you think they would sleep, knowing their slave could do more than kill, but
could force their owners to kill themselves? The galaxy would rise up to
slaughter us. It wouldn’t matter that less than five percent of Eleyi are
capable of this kind of psychic manipulation. They would kill us all.”

I finally look at her and see the indecision in her eyes. She wants to
argue with me, but she knows I’m right. “So why now? Why risk your people?”

“I told you. I will do
anything
to get my sister back.”

She nods and stands, wiping her hands on her loose pants. “Get cleaned
up. We’re going to be called before the Producers tonight, and it might help if
you didn’t look like you’ve been burning down arenas.”

She begins to leave and I catch her hand. -
You don’t have to stay,
Sadi. I understand if you don’t want to be involved. And I am free now.-

She comes back and kisses my forehead, a soft benediction. -
Idiot.
I’m not going anywhere while you’re in danger. Besides, I promised I’d help you
find your sister if you made the IPS see your people as more than slaves.-

I wince. -
All the more reason to leave.-

She shrugs. “Or maybe this is the best thing you could have done. Maybe
it will make people look at the Eleyi differently.” I give her a skeptical look
and she laughs. “Different, I said. Not better.”

She gives me a smile that almost hides her unease and leaves me alone to
shower. As the water washes over me, I reach for Brando’s mind. -
How many
dead?-

-Thirty. Eighteen gladiators, a dozen staff and patrons,-
he
answers matter-of-factly. And there is the difference. Sadi will be uneasy, and
Tinex will be afraid. But Brando has killed before, when he rescued Sadi from
the kidnappers.

-How many did you kill to get Sadi back?-
I
ask.

-As many as it took.-

I hesitate and then, -
How do you live with it?-

He’s sad when he answers, the kind of exhausted knowledge that pulls at
me
. -You do your best to forget the worst you’ve done and you hold onto the
reason for it. You realize it’s always going to be different. Something will
always be different. Sometimes I think it’s just because people see you
differently, after. Or maybe it’s because killing like I did—like you’ve done—requires
killing something in yourself. And being that broken causes you to change.”

It’s the longest thing I’ve ever heard him say and every word rings
painfully true. I start to retreat but he says something, maybe the only thing
that will help. -
Whatever I have done, however I have changed, I would do it
again. There is no sacrifice I would not have made, and while I sometimes
regret their deaths, I’ve never regretted saving her, whatever the cost.-

He is quiet and open for a moment, almost as if waiting for me to say
something else. When I don’t, he withdraws enough that I can no longer read his
thoughts and I finish my shower.

Chapter
33

Chosi’le

“I know you’re awake.”

The voice startles me enough that I open my eyes and stare at Prator in
wide-eyed confusion. The last thing I remember was my arena match, facing
premthas and then fire—everywhere. “Where am I?”

“My private quarters. Henri won’t let anyone see you.”

I shiver at the worry in his voice and psyche and bite my tongue to hold
back the questions. He watches me and shakes his head, seeing them in my eyes.
“Henri gave orders. No one talks to you until he does.” He stands, walking
toward the door.

“Prator, are they dead?” I ask, my voice shaking. His eyes dart to mine
and knowledge flickers there for a heartbeat before he is gone. I shiver,
almost giddy in my relief as I fall back onto the bed. Smoke clings to me, and
I frown. I’m still in the clothes I fought in.

Argot storms in, his anger leading like another person. I shrink back,
suddenly terrified. I thought I had seen Ja Argot angry. Now, I realize I
haven’t. And in his anger, he’s terrifying.

He slams his fist into my jaw and I see black spots as pain becomes my
entire world, narrowed into this—just this. I would scream, but it hurts to
scream, hurts to breathe, hurts to do anything but exist.

“I thought you cared about them,” he says softly, and I whimper, trying
to form words. “Do you realize what you did? No one will come near my jakta. Four
draken were freed with his fire; do you realize that?” he says, casually and he
is even more terrifying for the quiet calm when so much anger seethes in his
psyche.

“Ja, I’m sorry. I’m sorry; I didn’t do anything. I told him to leave,” I
beg, hating how weak I sound.

Argot laughs, a harsh bark of noise. “You expect me to believe that? He
burnt
the arena.”

I gasp, shaking my head. “No. He didn’t. He
couldn’t
.”

Argot leans back. “I assure you, it’s true, Brielle. He took great
pleasure in letting us know it was his doing.”

For a moment, I forget him and his anger, lost in thought. Juhan
revealed his—
our
—secret to
Argot
?
Why? Nothing is worth that, nothing has ever been worth it. “What will you do?”
I ask, my voice shaking.

He straightens, disgust plain on his features. “I don’t have a choice,
do I?”

He keys a command into the mini-tablet I just now notice, and Jereth
appears, looking anxious and impatient. “Argot. I’ve heard about you recently
in the newsfeed,” he says immediately and I cringe under my owner’s withering
glare.

“I have an answer for the Senators.” Argot says, smoothly. “As for my
favor? I want someone killed.”

I shriek in panic, surging up in the bed, and Prator clamps a hand on
me, yanking me back down. I thrash for a moment and he leans down, hissing,
“Listen, you bloody fool.”

“Senator Harvine of New Earth. I don’t want it traced back to me, but
see that it’s done. And I’ll consider whatever the hell you want.”

Relief spreads across the Senator’s face like a rising sun, and he
grins. “Is that all? It’ll be done by morning on New Earth.”

Argot nods and ends the transmission. And I stare at him, my owner who
has so casually ordered the death of a Senator even I recognize.

“Why?”

He frowns. “Because I can. Because it will get him off Pente and away
from you. I won’t allow you to single-handedly destroy what I’ve spent years
building.”

He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, throwing the words over
his shoulder. “You’re still expected to fight. Get up and train before I give
the draken to someone else.”