Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (27 page)

Chapter
29

Chosi’le

“Are you ready?” Kristoff asks, glancing at the tablet display he’s
holding.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye as the hovercraft sets down. I
can feel the murmur of the jakta, the familiar minds tugging at me. “Of
course,” I say and it’s true. I am more than ready to be out of the medhall
that offers no distractions from my thoughts, away from the patrons and their
oily smiles.

If I can’t fight, I want to be with my draken.

 
I stare at my friend. Since the
night the Ja dined with the Senator, Kristoff has been oddly reticent, not
himself. I want to press him, find out what is on his mind, but I’m also
terrified of finding out. So I bite my lip, let a wash of warmth cover him, and
stand. He smiles at me as we touch down.

Ja Argot strides past us, descending the ramp almost before it has fully
extended. I glance again at Kristoff, who watches the receding back of our
owner with a pensive look.

“Kristoff? I have to go,” I say gently and it jars him from his
thoughts.

We part ways at the dormitory, and I keep my head ducked as I weave my
way through the glads and servants, making my way to the back of the jakta
where my draken wait.

Petyr comes out of my rooms as I approach and I bite down the anger that
swells in me.  Instead, I nod at the cave. “How are they?”

“Listless. They miss you.”

I smile at that and nod. “Bring my dinner back to the rooms. I’m going
to them.”

A mind touches my own, a familiar light touch that is so close I look up
involuntarily.
Why is he here?

Petyr’s eyes narrow at me and I push past him, slipping into the cave.

The mental touch of the draken covers me, so heavy and unexpected I
stumble, seeing the cave from Miwya’s perch before I blink and my vision goes
normal.

I can’t feel Juhan anymore—only the excitement building in the draken
waiting for me.

Miwya trumpets when I skid around the corner, and Natsu screeches a
wordless greeting, their wild joy engulfing me as a plume of fire fills the
cave, scorching the air. I laugh, unaware for a moment that I am crying until
Sora nuzzles my face and I feel my tears smear on his face. Hintu crowds as
close as possible with Sora and Natsu pressed so close, and I can feel the
warmth of Miwya’s gaze and mind, a softly glowing coal in the back of my mind.

And something else. I look past Natsu, seeing the coppery gaze of Meinia
on me.

It takes a moment, and a gentle exertion of my will, but finally I step
free of the crush and approach him. His eyes are chilly and hostile and I
realize he may never fully trust me.

And I deserve it.

-I’m not leaving,-
I
say, pushing that thought away. His eyes narrow a fraction. -
I have thought
of suicide—you were right. But I will not kill myself—not when so many depend
on me.-

Meinia shifts and I feel his reservation, but he inclines his head
gracefully. -
Welcome home, little Le,-
he says, a deep rumble in my
head.

I visit the medhall and let Jenalle check my wounds. She frowns as she
examines them, humming softly under her breath. It’s still sore, tender to the
touch, but I’m tired of limited activity. I want to train again, to fight
again. I lie still under her prodding, struggling not to wince.

“You’ll scar,” she says finally, stepping back and motioning for me to
sit up. “And I’d really like you to rest for another week.” I roll my eyes and
she laughs. “I know it’s unlikely. But you are my patient and I can have my
little dreams, can’t I?”

“As long as you know it’s not happening and that I’m going to fight as
soon as Argot allows me to, sure. Hold onto those dreams.”

The door to the medhall slides open and Catelyn stalks in, her face
twisted in anger. Jenalle’s expression closes off, and her anger washes over me
before she puts up her mental walls.

“Unless you’re dying, leave,” she snaps, and I jerk around to stare at
her. This is more than the casual brusque manner I’ve come to expect in the
medic. This is true animosity, a deep-seated dislike.

Catelyn ignores it. “Ja Argot requests your presence,” she says, her
voice and face twisting on the word “requests” as if she’s eaten something
sour.

Jenalle smirks. “Feeling threatened, Catelyn?”

Catelyn’s expression tightens before she can stop it and she forces a
laugh. “By a beastboy? Hardly.”

Jenalle grins. “A beastboy who has won the hearts of the crowds and
brought money back into the jakta.” She pauses and then: “I heard an
interesting rumor about the Ja and the ‘beastboy’.”

Catelyn’s eyes narrow dangerously and she looks at me. “He wants you.
Now.”

I nod, tugging my pants back on and buttoning them quickly. A disgusted
note fills Catelyn’s mind for a moment, but she turns away, vanishing now that
her message is delivered.

“Brielle,” Jenalle says as I stand and walk toward the door, “be
careful. The jakta is not as secure as it seems and the more the crowd loves
you, the more you will be hated here.”

I shrug. “No one can touch me without angering Henri. I’m too valuable.”

“Things change. There is little in the jakta to fight for—patronage and
the eye of the Ja’s brother are some of those things. And you have both,”
Jenalle says and waves me away. I take my dismissal and leave the medhall,
heading to the Ja’s building.

I can hear Prator and Argot arguing before I reach the house. The
balcony door is open and their voices carry in the quiet evening air.

“Damnit, Henri; it’s not an opportunity we can afford to turn down,”
Prator says, his voice uneven with anger.

“I have no desire to be a tool of the Senate, brother,” Argot answers.

Prator hisses in frustration, “Will you at least let her fight? What
they offer could change everything for us.”

“Enough. I won’t decide now. Not until I’ve dealt with the Eleyi and his
consort,” Henri says abruptly and Prator sighs.

I rub my head, trying to ignore the headache that has been building
since we returned to the jakta two days ago. The brothers are speaking too
quietly for me to hear now, so I continue up to the house.

Prator lets me in and I follow him through the familiar halls and into
Ja’s study. He looks tired, I realize, lines around his eyes, and his normally
short cropped hair hangs long and dirty. Several screens are lit with
projections and statistics, and an arena fight plays out on the wall behind us.

“Sit down, Brielle,” he says without looking away from the lit tablet on
his desk. I glance at Prator as I sit nervously.

“I haven’t broken any rules, Ja,” I say quickly

He laughs, a noise without humor. “Tell me the truth. Has your brother
tried to Speak to you?”

I blink, startled. His eyes narrow and he nods almost to himself. “I
thought not. Catelyn said you haven’t Spoken, but I wanted to be sure.”

I frown and Prator says, “We received an interesting offer. Sadiene
Renult-Harvine is interested in becoming a patron.”

The name sings through me, too familiar, and I look down, unsteady.
“What does that have to do with me?” I ask.

“Don’t play stupid, Brielle. Kristoff told me you know where your
brother is. So you know that she isn’t here as a patron, but looking for you.”

“Sir, I—”

“Shut up,” he snaps and Prator shifts, agitated. Henri takes a deep
breath and expels it slowly. “This is what will happen. You and I will go to
Sadi Renult and play whatever game she wants. And when asked, you will tell
them you are happy, that you want nothing more than to stay in service to your
jakta.”

I lick my lips and whisper, “And if I don’t?”

He doesn’t even blink. “You care for the draken. You care for Kristoff.
You will obey me or I will kill them, and when I am done, I’ll kill your
family, your brother, and I’ll end with you.”

The threat is delivered so evenly, without any inflection, that it makes
a shiver dance down my spine. Looking into his eyes, feeling his psyche, I have
absolutely no doubt he is telling the truth.

“Will you spar with me?” I ask Kristoff, interrupting his conversation
with Kevan. I feel the other man’s cool disgust, but manage to ignore it.
Kristoff glances at his lover and I feel his hesitation. I shake my head,
backing away. “Sorry. Stay; I’m sorry.” I pause and look at Kevan. The lover
who so influences Kristoff. The man I often ignore. I offer a weak smile. “I’m
sorry I interrupted.”

I almost expect him to snap at me—Kevan doesn’t like me and has never
made that a secret. Instead, he nods at my leg. “You think you should spar with
that still healing?”

I shrug. I shouldn’t and we both know it. But I need the mind-blanking
violence to clear my head, to focus on anything other than my brother.

I can’t decide if I am furious or thrilled. He’s come for me. Finally.
But—my draken press against my mind, and a small voice, a voice I hate, wonders
if I could leave them.

He’s
here.
The knowledge sings through me again, at once thrilling and terrifying,
and I struggle to keep my teeth from chattering. I can feel him, a heavy
presence that lurks just past my mental walls, calling to me, waiting for me.
It would be easy, so easy, to lower my mental walls and feel my twin’s mind
wrapped around me.

I shove my mental walls higher, fear shuddering through me. Desperate
for something to drive out the presence of my brother. I turn quickly, weaving
my way through the tables and the chattering bodies that fill them.

In the open air of the hall, I take a deep breath, almost choking as
Juhan’s presence intensifies.

I straighten, my face empty of the fear and desperation filling me.
Kevan and Kristoff have followed me and Kevan motions sharply. “Come on, then,”
Kevan says.

I glance at Kristoff, who shrugs.

In the practice yard, Kevan pulls out daggers. I’m not terrible with
them, but I’m not comfortable with them either. And he knows it, grinning as I
fumble the daggers. “Why these?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“The Manager won’t always arm you with a hurkya and whip. You should be
ready to adapt.”

He’s barely finished speaking when he launches himself at me. The speed
of his attack means he’s overcommitted and I step aside. One of his daggers flashes
in the sun and I feel the pressure of it pressing into my belly. He steps back.
“Hard to fight with your guts falling out.”

I glare and he laughs, and we fight. I lose track of how many times I am
pinned or mortally wounded, and my head and arms are screaming from the blows
he lands. He doesn’t soften them in deference to my injuries, but he doesn’t
target them either. Slowly, I begin to fight back, catching his blade and
deflecting it, the fight lasting a little longer before he makes a move that would
kill me if our blades were real. We fight until I think my arms will fall off
if I lift them, until the sun and moon set and the second moon rises and
Kristoff relaxes into sleep.

Eventually, Kevan dismisses me, and there is a grudging respect in his eyes
as I put away my weapons and stumble to my quarters. I ignore Petyr, collapsing
into my bed in exhaustion.  And as it pulls me under, I realize I have
forgotten about Juhan.

Chapter 30

Juhan’tr

IT’S THE LONGEST TWO days of my life.

Sadi plays endless games of Imperium and watches time tick away. We
entertain Senators wondering at our presence on their planet. But mostly, we
wait, and it pushes the edges of my sanity.

I’m lying in Sadi’s bed, attempting to read, the words blurring on the screen.
All I can see is my sister, in chains, tortured, broken, dead. So many things
could be happening to her, while I sit reading.

Sadi lowers her tablet and looks at me, expectant. “What?”

“It’s been a day and a half, Sadi. He won’t take the bait.”

She smiles, kisses my cheek. “He will.  And if he doesn’t, we find
another way. But he will.” I close my eyes and nod, pushing down my sigh. She
looks up at me and she reaches up, touching my face. “I promise, Juhan. We’ll
get her back.”

Her voice is fierce, and I touch her psyche, taste the protective edge.

For a moment, I remember her baiting her sister, drawing her anger away
from her father. Her anger when she felt that Tin was slighted. Somewhere along
the way, I’ve become hers. Someone she protects.

“Sadi—” I start, but the tablet blinks, a quiet alert that she has a comm
link waiting. She sits up, crossing her legs beneath her and pulling up the
link. Zeke smiles at her from his office, a greasy smile oozing greedy hope.

 
“Sadi! So good to see you.”

She arches an eyebrow at his casual use of her name but doesn’t dwell on
it. Instead she says, impatiently, “I said two days. Is Henri Argot interested
or should I find another arena to patronize?”

“He’s invited you to dine with him in the patrons’ club, Ms. Renult.
Tomorrow afternoon, if it please you.”

Sadi pauses, and I feel a thread of nervous anticipation as she nods.
“Very well.”

Zeke sags in relief and nods manically. “Excellent. I will let Argot
know and he will meet you at our club tomorrow at midday. He said he is quite
looking forward to meeting Sadi Renult and her Eleyi consort.”

A flare of worry in her, muffled so quickly it barely touches me and my
ecstatic joy. She murmurs a goodbye and disconnects. And even though I see it
in her eyes, I dismiss it, push it away in favor of the fact that my sister is
almost within reach.

It’s her worry that wakes me, pulls me from a dream where Chosi and I
are sleeping, hands linked, in the hammocks that hang side-by-side in our
childhood bedroom. I can hear Mama, singing as she cooks lemils. I hear the
soft rustle of the trees, the musical calls of the birds, and the tread of
Father’s footsteps as he paces through our home, reading a tablet report and
pulling on his ear.

For a moment, caught in a world so familiar it makes my heart break a
little, I’m happy.

Until a sour note makes my nose wrinkle, my lips pucker. A presence like
jasmine and Eleyi roots, sweet and tart, drifts through the dream, and the sour
note clings to her. Sadi. I try to ignore her, ignore the call of her concern,
but it coats the surface of the dream and home vanishes. It’s replaced by the
hum of the Leen, the smooth, curved walls and thin blankets.  Its daylight.
I can see the soft glow of morning edging through the viewfinder as I wander
the ship looking for Sadi.

She’s sitting in the galley. I’m more surprised to see Brando sitting
with her, listening as she worries. For a moment, I consider going to her.
Instead I quietly step away. Let Brando comfort her. It’s what they both want,
even if he refuses to admit it and she clings to the shreds of our tattered
story. I walk away, trying to ignore the sting in my own heart.

There is no happy ending to this lie with Sadi. I can’t let myself want
one. The only happy ending that matters is my sister’s.

In the shower, water cascading around me, I reach for Chosi’le, finding
her with an ease that’s almost painful. She’s nervous, and soothing something I
can’t wrap my psyche around. It’s calming her almost as much as she calms it.

-Soon, sister. Today, if things go as Sadi
plans. And then we go home.-

She hears me. I feel it in the surprising surge of anger in her. But she
doesn’t answer.

At midday, we’re still on the Leen. I’m dressed in black again. So are
Brando and Tin, and we all wait for Sadi. We’ve been waiting for almost thirty
minutes. When she finally emerges from her room, she is wearing deep plum, the
color that she so rarely wears, her hair falling in an intricate braid that
defies the eye to follow.

She’s breathtaking and every inch a spoiled rich girl looking to
patronize the gladiators.

 
As we walk through the streets to
the arena, I wonder what sort of picture we make. What are the Pente and Others
thinking as they catch sight of Sadi, her bodyguards, me with my wings
outspread?

What do they see that makes them scurry from our path, and will it help
us as we barter for my sister?

When we arrive, we’re expected. The screen pad flashes green for Sadi,
and the AI courteously shows us to the patrons’ club.

It’s curiously empty. Does Henri Argot value his privacy so much he
bought out the club for a lunch? Sadi pauses, looking around, and we both
notice the large, round table at the same time. It’s set for three, a
candelabra glowing with soft light. I watch the flames flicker, focusing on
them, emptying my mind.

“Sadi Renult.”

The voice is familiar and not. It tugs at something in me that has been
missing these past months, the part of me that will always be Chosi’s. I turn
and stare at Henri Argot. I don’t know him. But my sister does.

It’s strange to be simultaneously terrified and furious. To feel the
echo of her emotions again.

“Ja Argot, it’s so good to finally meet you,” Sadi says, gliding forward.

He kisses her cheek perfunctorily. His eyes skate to me, further to
Brando and Tin. I feel his amusement, his lazy confidence. “Come, sit. I
believe I’m making your bodyguards nervous.”

I step forward as he begins to lead Sadi to the table, taking her hand
and pulling her closer to me with a gentle tug. It’s a statement, one lacking
in finesse and subtlety, and I see Argot smirk. I don’t care.

Ignoring him, I guide Sadi to her seat, take the chair next to her, and
lean back quietly. -
Remember, let me lead,-
Sadi says, and it’s not a
request. Steely determination edges her psyche and I give a tiny nod.

“Zeke says you’re interested in patronizing the arena,” Henri says,
sipping the sparkling water. Sadi nods, smiling. “It’s a fine establishment, to
be sure.”

“I’m more interested in you,” she answers silkily and Henri smiles over
the rim of his glass.

“That might be the only true thing you’ve said since arriving on Pente.”

“What makes you say that?” Sadi asks without blinking.

“Honesty, now. Tell me what the slave thinks he’ll achieve,” Henri asks,
openly amused.

Sadi smiles, reaching for my hand. It’s a secretive smile, one full of
promise. “Brando?”

He steps forward, handing her a small stack of papers—real parchment.
Something hammers in my ears, and a flash of confusion hits me from my sister.
Henri is surprised, and anything that surprises Henri is something to be
avoided. I shake my head, shake Chosi’s worry.

“Juhan?” I glance at Sadi, at the paper and pen she’s holding. -
Sign
it,-
she says and there is something broken and sad in her psyche.
Wordless, I take the pen and sign. She glances at it and smiles. Slides it
across the table so that Henri is staring at it.

“I believe you are familiar with manumission papers,” she says softly.

Henri shrugs, rage building in his psyche. “Not terribly familiar; I
don’t often free my slaves.”

The words—or maybe the fierce stab of jealousy from my sister—
penetrate, and I snatch the papers off the table, staring at them. I look at
her, unable to comprehend what she’s done. Sadi is ignoring me, focused on
Henri. “Now. That’s been signed and witnessed. He’s free. Moving on.”

“Eleyi can’t purchase each other,” Henri says blandly, as if Sadi
freeing me is no cause for comment.

“I want to purchase her,” Sadi says coolly.

Henri laughs. “Why? You’ve never met her. Would you really buy a slave
sight unseen? Seems unwise, doesn’t it?” Sadi doesn’t answer, and Argot shrugs.
Claps his hands.

I feel a surge of defiance, a heartbeat of it, before it’s gone. Chosi’le
has never been good at containing her emotions. Then she glides into the room
from a dark hallway and everything in me stops.

She looks the same—same pale white hair standing in stylized tufts, same
cocky posture as she walks to stand behind her owner. Her wings are different—blunt
at the edges, long healed and irreversible. Her clothes—butter soft leather pants,
a loose billowy shirt, and a coiled whip hanging at her waist—are different.

And her eyes are different—empty in a way that terrifies me.

“
Chosi
?” I whisper, half
standing. Her eyes—cold and so lifeless—meet mine, and I see a flash of emotion
that hits me like a fist to the gut and I sit down, hard.

“She is called Brielle now,” Henri says. “And she is not given leave to
speak.”

I bite back a curse, and look away from the smug bastard, focusing on my
sister. -
Talk to me. I’m here to help you,-
I plead.

She doesn’t shift, doesn’t look at me at again. Henri holds up his empty
glass and she immediately slips into motion, catching the glass as it falls
from his fingers, righting it and scurrying to pour water into it.

As she returns, setting the glass down with shaking hands, her eyes dart
to me and I see loathing in them before she looks back to the floor and steps
away.

“How much?” Sadi snaps, angry suddenly.

Henri glances back at Chosi’le and a fond smile turns his lips. “Do you
know how much money my draken won last week?”

Sadie’s eyes narrow and Henri shrugs. “More than enough to run the jakta
for a quarter. Or enough to add half a dozen gladiators to my stable. Why would
I sell the slave who has brought such success to my jakta?”

I feel the dual emotions—fear and pride—go through my sister and
something brittle in me finally breaks. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure
there isn’t an arena who will welcome you. I’ll destroy every arena on Pente to
keep you from fighting in them if I have to.” I stand, lean forward a little.
“And then I’ll kill every glad and beast in your jakta. I’ll burn it to the
ground and leave you nothing but ash. But I
will
take my sister.”

A flash of terror and anger from Chosi startles me, but I ignore her.

Henri studies me silently, and finally he looks over his shoulder at
her. “You would do all that for a slave?” Fury ripples through me, but I nod.
An odd look—pity almost—crosses his face. “Have you considered, Juhan’tr, that
perhaps Brielle doesn’t want to go?”

I laugh. “Because she’d much rather be your slave?”

“Ask her,” Henri asks, waving a hand at Brielle. She steps forward and
looks up. I reach for her mentally
. -This isn’t what you want, Chosi. I
don’t care what you say, this isn’t you. It’s not what you want.-

She tilts her head, staring at me. “My name is Brielle now. And this is
where I belong.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. I told you I’d come for you—it’s
time to go home.”

Chosi’le shrugs, and for a moment her emotions flood me, filling me with
fear and longing and rage—so much rage. “Maybe you should have thought about
that months ago instead of flitting about the galaxy with your damn
consort,”
she
snarls. “Go rescue someone who wants it, brother. Leave me alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.

Her mind floods me, so
there
my eyes
flutter. But her words are sharp and unflinching. –
I don’t care.-

Her voice echoes in my head, and it makes me shake. A girl appears in
the doorway, laughing and dancing in place.

“Brielle,” Henri snaps, jerking to his feet. “You know the rules.”

She’s backing away. “It’s the only way he would accept it, Ja; I had
to!”

Argot ignores her pleading and punches her, a vicious blow to her jaw
that knocks her from her feet. Distantly, I hear as Sadi gives a little gasp,
reaching for me, and Brando surges forward. Rage washes over me—for a
heartbeat, I can’t even see past my anger.

Chosi’le’ screams as Henri kicks her, snapping me back. A blow catches
her wings and as it rips, she shrieks, a high pitched sound that breaks off suddenly
as she loses consciousness. The sudden absence of her psyche makes me
physically violent, but I choke it down, clenching and unclenching my fists.
Brando slants a glance in my direction, but he’s surprisingly still.