Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (22 page)

It was in the flick of a wrist after a parry, a toss of her head after a dodge.

Tia’tan enjoyed this.

The almost-smile on her lips clinched it. Tia’tan enjoyed dancing around these imperial women, showing them what a Wyrd-trained fighter could do.

Kayla switched her gaze to Tia’tan’s attendant, a male Wyrd standing silently on the sidelines. Noar, she recalled. If Tia’tan was intent, he was a laser, watching with eerie focus. They never spoke to each other between points, at least not out loud, but certainly they said plenty.

Kayla drew her ever-present shields tighter.

Tia’tan’s opponent slipped unexpectedly, her heel scuffing out farther in front of her than she intended, throwing her off-balance. Tia’tan backed off and allowed her to recover, rather than attacking. Annoyance crossed her features and she glanced at Noar, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

So. The Wyrds were not above using their psi powers to influence a match. At least Noar wasn’t. Frutt. How could she combat that? Tia’tan was already her equal in the ring without outside influences.

Kayla looked to the stands ringing the arena. The other two members of the Wyrd contingent sat as close as possible to the edge of the pit, each watching with smooth expressions but equal focus. Mental shields alone would not protect her from their combined telekinetic efforts, should they choose to frutt with her.

Tia’tan’s impressive display ended the series shortly thereafter without a single point scored by her opponent. Again.

Kayla hustled to the last series of the day being held all the way across the arena—Ordinal Divinya, battling a solid contender for the crown, Lady Glennis.

Along the way people glanced at Kayla more often than she was used to. Much more often. Inquisitive, assessing glances. Was her hologram malfunctioning? She glanced down at her hand. Smooth skin, free of scars—definitely not her hand. What were they whispering about?

By the time she reached the ring, she’d heard enough snatches of conversation to piece it together. The standings had been released and the tournament brackets were set for the next day. Her first opponent tomorrow morning would be the winner of the Divinya–Glennis series.

Great.

A challenge was one thing, and normally she’d welcome it. With her and Corinth’s future on the line—not to mention the potential turn of imperial politics on the Ordochian situation—was it too much to ask that Divinya and Sovein clashed in an injury-ridden bout that knocked both of them out of the running
before
she had to fight them? At least one of them. That would be nice.

Divinya’s ebony skin blended with her fighter’s garb until she looked like a living shadow. A shadow with glowing yellow eyes and a flash of white teeth.

She shifted about the ring with the unpredictability of shade formed and dissolved under the wind-blown leaves of a tree. Her unorthodox timing, combined with her quickness, clearly threw Glennis off. Glennis tried to dodge when she should have blocked, was caught retreating even as an attack dissipated. Hands and feet connected, ground was given and taken, but Divinya ruled the ring.

Kayla tried to predict Divinya’s moves, but the sense of the woman’s ceaseless flow escaped her. Forward, back, tiptoe turn, flat-footed double-step, shifting L stances, planted parallel stances… Kayla had never seen such a style. Just as unpredictable were her weapon choices: knives for this fight, staves this morning, swords yesterday.

Though Glennis tried her best, the series was quickly done.

Divinya looked over and made eye contact with Kayla, a feral grin spreading across her face.

Ready or not
, it said,
here I come
.

* * *

Kayla rode the magchute to her floor in blissful silence. After a day spent in the arena with so many people she was ready for a few hours in a sound deprivation chamber. The tiny
whoosh
of the lift carrying her upward acted like a sedative, soothing and bringing her back into her own headspace. She leaned against the organoplastic wall and closed her eyes, enjoying the hum. These would be her few quiet moments of the day. Next stop—a hurried shower and a meeting with the octet to discuss the outcome of today’s series. Then an orchestral presentation and whatever else for the evening.

For this moment, she let the world of the Empress Game bleed away and just drifted.

But when one concern faded from her mind, another rose to take its place, and even the peace of the silent magchute couldn’t keep the question of Malkor’s past at bay. Corinth had been unable to penetrate the highest reaches of the IDC’s electronic security and the mystery of Malkor’s involvement on Ordoch loomed large in her mind. Who was she working with? It was dangerous to go on as she had been, trust growing between them, falling into the hope that she might finally have an ally. They couldn’t be on equal footing until she knew his past, as he knew hers. There was nothing for it, she’d have to confront him.

The maglift slowed and she pushed Malkor to the edge of her thoughts—back to work. The octet would want to know what she’d learned about Tia’tan and Divinya.

How had Janeen failed to bring Divinya to their attention? That question nagged at Kayla. Each of the agents had compiled a list of contestants from their homeworlds that they thought bore watching. Kayla had drawn from them to form her own list of top competitors. A fighter like Divinya didn’t get that talented practicing in her backyard. By all accounts Janeen was good at her job, Divinya shouldn’t have escaped her notice.

Of course, knowing about Divinya two weeks ago might not have been enough time to adequately prepare, considering all the other contestants Kayla had studied on their trip to Falanar. It would be a tough fight in the morning.

Too tough?

Never. She would beat every last woman in the Game twice to earn her ticket to Wyrd Space.

The magchute deposited her in the main hall that ran perpendicular to her corridor. Isonde better still have her Kaylagram active, or security would be here in about two minutes when a second Princess Isonde tried to gain access. She scanned her lithodisc bracelet at the entrance to her corridor and pushed through the door once it unlocked.

Maybe she could still get a nap in. The others could do the heavy lifting on researching today’s fights while she slept. She could—

The doors to her room slid open just as she reached them. Janeen burst out, slamming full-force into her. Kayla sprawled backward on her ass.

“What the frutt, Janeen!”

Janeen looked more stunned than Kayla felt. “You—” She looked back over her shoulder while Kayla sprang to her feet. “You’re supposed to be—” Beyond her, Kayla could see herself lying face-down on the floor near the kitchen area, motionless.

She didn’t even have time to form a question. Janeen lunged, jamming something into her shoulder with severe impact. Skin punctured and a flood of angry venom shot into Kayla’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Janeen muttered, as Kayla crumpled to her knees in pain. She caught a glimpse of Janeen’s indigo boots through squinted eyes as the woman sprinted away.

I
t burned.

No, burned was an understatement. It seared Kayla’s flesh like the molten touch of a star and ravaged her shoulder into an amalgam of pain. Kayla couldn’t even breathe past it. Dizziness hit and she braced herself with her other hand against the floor, trying not to pass out.

Something’s… happening…

The fire contracted, pulling, pulling; dragging on her muscles, tightening them, screwing them into something unyielding. Her shoulder hardened as the burning contracted to a point. Everything screamed in pain and the heat winked out, leaving her shoulder as rigid as stone. The lower half of her arm hung loosely from her locked upper arm. She could still feel it, still wiggle her fingers a little, but it was at the very edge of her awareness.

Isonde.

She tried to push herself to her feet with both hands, but the second she applied pressure on her left hand pain ripped through her rigid shoulder like she’d been impaled on a spearhead. She heard a distinct and horrifying snap. Kayla forced herself up with her good hand and stumbled into her room.

Inside, Isonde, still in her Kayla hologram, lay face-down on the floor like a toppled statue. It appeared as though she’d taken a header from one of the high chairs by the kitchen island. Kayla knelt and leveraged her good hand to flip Isonde’s rigid body onto her back.

Her Kayla-face was a mess.

Blood streamed from a smashed in nose. The jagged edges of broken teeth could barely be seen in her mouth beneath more blood. Kayla ripped the biostrip off of Isonde’s neck and the hologram faded, but not the damage. Isonde’s eyes were screwed shut and the frozen mask of her face looked as much in pain as Kayla.

Kayla pressed a hand to Isonde’s chest. Weak heartbeats met her palm.
Breathing?
She listened. Shallowly. Barely.

Every instinct she had told her to call an emergency med team in—every instinct but one: self-preservation. An official investigation of the attack would be launched. They’d know when it happened, know that “Princess Isonde” had not been keyed into the room during the incident. Isonde’s plot to fix the Game would be uncovered and execution would be the result. For both of them. Kayla scurried to the comm unit and punched in the code for the only person she could trust.

“Malkor—I need you. My room. Bring your medic, and for frutt’s sake hurry.”

She didn’t dare say more than that.

She hugged her left forearm to her body. A red-hot spear of pain ground itself to a point against her shoulder whenever she jostled it. The fact that her skin, muscles and ligaments in that area seemed to have solidified into a flesh-colored stone was the least of her worries. She had torn or damaged
something
in there when trying to get to her feet and it screamed for attention. Kayla ignored it and grabbed a cloth from the kitchen before returning to where Isonde lay.

Isonde’s unconscious face remained frozen as Kayla gently wiped at the blood. Her squeezed-shut eyelids didn’t twitch when Kayla cleaned her cheek, and her mouth gaped, the jaw locked open. Isonde’s body was more rigid than a corpse. If Janeen had injected the same thing into Isonde and it had locked up her body the way it had solidified Kayla’s shoulder, Isonde’s face must have broken the fall when she couldn’t raise her arms to catch herself. What the frutt was it, though?

And why had it affected the whole of Isonde’s body but not Kayla’s? Dosage? Blood chemistry?

More importantly, how did they counteract it?

::Kayla!:: Corinth’s voice screamed in her head. ::What’s wrong? We’re coming! Kayla?:: His psi voice begged a response she couldn’t give. Instead she partitioned her mind as best she could in a quick fashion, boxing off the pain in her shoulder, and lowered her mental shields where he flailed against them like a dying fish. He couldn’t pour into her mind from this distance, and she wouldn’t have let him anyway, but he could glean enough of her thoughts to know she was all right.

She listened to dozens of shallow huffs as Isonde’s lungs fought the paralysis to force what air they could into her body. Her heart beat just as weakly, its thump almost indiscernible at the pulse point on her wrist.

Her door hissed open.

“I’m here. What happened?” The sound of Malkor’s voice brought a flood of irrational reassurance to her. He, Trinan, Vid, Hekkar, Toble the medic and Corinth all tried to rush to her and Isonde at once.

“Don’t touch me.” She held up her good hand, freezing them. They halted as one, Toble grabbing Corinth by the arm when her
il’haar
would have rushed forward regardless. She realized her mistake from the horrified looks on their faces. “I’m not contagious, I just have an injured shoulder.” The men converged, careful not to touch her. “Help Isonde. She’s barely breathing.”

“Daughter of All,” Malkor uttered, looking stricken. “What happened to her?”

Toble knelt beside Isonde, immediately checking pulse, respiration.

“Janeen injected her with something.”

“Janeen? You’re certain?” Kayla nodded. Malkor’s uncertainty cleared to action in a nanosecond. He whipped out his mobile comm, thumbing it to life. “Janeen, report.” Everyone in the room held their breath. Nothing. “Agent Nuagyn, status report. Now.” More silence. He punched a sequence into the comm and spoke again, his voice low and hard as stone. “You have five minutes to respond to this page before I file an insubordination charge.” His fingers tightened around the device and he closed the link. “Vid. Trinan.”

“On it, boss.” The two agents slipped out of the room, both pulling their comm units as they left.

“Do you know what she was injected with?” Toble asked. He had his case open and a scanner already drifting over Isonde’s stiff form.

“No idea. If it’s the same thing Janeen hit me with it’s nothing I’ve seen before. It solidified my tissue somehow.”

Malkor tore his gaze away from Isonde. “You too?”

“Nothing like what’s happening to Isonde. Just my shoulder.”

Malkor knelt beside her, eyes on Isonde again. Hekkar stopped awkwardly behind him.

Kayla got to her feet, pain radiating outward in a hot throb from her shoulder.

::Are you all right, Kay?::

She nodded at Corinth and took herself out of the way, perching on the edge of a sofa. Corinth joined her, careful not to jostle her. They waited in silence for Toble to finish his scans.

“Solidified is the right word for it. All of her tendons, ligaments and muscles are locked up. The rigidity is affecting her heart as well, it’s no wonder that it can barely beat.” Toble fished a pressure syringe from his case, dialed up a dose and injected it into Isonde’s jugular. “How long has she been like this?” He activated his scanner again and let it hover over her heart.

“I’m not sure. Five or ten minutes at least, that’s when I got here,” Kayla said.

Minutes passed as Toble stared at his scanner. She read the results on his face—whatever he’d tried hadn’t worked. “I need more information. We have to transport her to one of the medical facilities in the pavilion.”