Page 23 of Pyne

Please, I beg silently, not sure who I’m praying to.Please let him be okay. Let him find a way out of this.But I know that hope is a fragile thing in a game where the stakes are life and death.

And all I can do is watch and pray that somehow, against all odds, Pyne will emerge victorious.

Chapter Nineteen

Pyne

The roar of the crowd is as familiar as breathing, but I’ve never felt like this before in a match. The last thing I want to do is kill my opponent. The thunderous clamor rises as I step into the arena and notice the familiar feeling of the sand beneath my boots. My heart tightens, not from fear, but from the weight of what I must do. The sun glints off Lyriax’s sword as he faces me, his iridescent skin shimmering like a mirage in the heat.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. I know I could end this in the span of one breath, could disarm Lyriax, and have his blade at his throat before he could blink. But that’s not the point. The point is to put on a show, to give Arisha the spectacle she craves, and to earn my place back at Becca’s side.

So when Lyriax lunges, sword flashing, I let him come. I dodge and weave, always staying just out of reach, letting him think he has the upper hand. The crowd gasps and cheers as I duck and roll, the blade whistling past my ear.

I can see the confusion in Lyriax’s eyes, the way he falters as I evade him. He knows this isn’t right, that a gladiator of my skill shouldn’t be on the defensive. But he presses on, slashing and thrusting, filled with false confidence, determined to end this as the victor.

We conduct this deadly dance across the sand, our movements a blur of green skin and iridescent scales. I let him drive me back, let him think he’s cornering me against the arena wall. The stones are hot against my back as I flatten myself against them, giving Lyriax almost enough time to place his sword at my throat.

For a moment, we’re both motionless panting in the shimmering heat. I can see the sweat beading on Lyriax’s brow, the tremble in his sword arm. He’s tiring, just as I’d planned.

“Finish him!” Arisha’s voice rings out, cold and cruel. The crowd takes up the chant. I can almost taste their bloodlust in the air.

Lyriax hesitates, his eyes searching mine. I can see the reluctance there, the revulsion at what he’s being asked to do. He’s no killer, this gentle soul from Iridius. He’s a baker who flew halfway across the galaxy, lured by the credits promised to the winner of this competition.

Although I was enlisted at the point of several guns, this male came voluntarily expecting nothing more than flour, sugar, and mixing bowls. Now, he’s ensnared, a pawn in Arisha’s game, just like me.

In a blur of speed, I knock the sword from his hand, sending it to the sand with a metallic thud. I sweep his legs out from under him, and he goes down hard, grunting as the breath his breath is knocked from his lungs.

Before he can recover, I’m on him, pinning him to the ground with my knees on either side of his waist. I grasp the fallen sword and press the tip to his throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of silver blood.

The crowd falls silent, stunned. Arisha leans forward in her seat, her eyes glittering with anticipation. I can feel Becca’s gaze on me like a physical weight and wish I could reassure her. I imagine that a moment ago she was terrified I would die, and now she’s horrified that I’m going to kill this gentle Iridian baker.

After drawing a deep breath, I spear Arisha with my gaze and speak directly to her, my voice ringing deep and proud across the arena.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, my eyes locked on Arisha. “Is this what passes for entertainment in this twisted game of yours? Pitting a male who’s never held a sword against a gladiator trained in the bestludiin the galaxy?”

She smiles, a slow, cruel thing. “It’s what the people want, Pyne. It’s what they’ve paid for.” She gestures at the crowd in the stands with the same amused glee as she pointed to the cookies we baked the other day.

I shake my head, disgust churning in my gut. “No. This isn’t sport. This isn’t a test of skill or strength. This is murder, plain and simple.”

A murmur runs through the crowd, uneasy and uncertain. Pressing on, my voice grows stronger with every word.

“I won’t do it. I won’t take this life, not for your amusement, not for your ratings. Not for anything.”

I feel Lyriax go still beneath me, his breath catching in his throat. I risk a glance down at him, and the gratitude in his sparking silver eyes nearly undoes me.

“Pyne…” Arisha’s voice is low, warning. “Think carefully about what you’re doing. You know what’s at stake.”

I nod, my jaw tight. “I do. And I’m willing to pay the price. But not like this. Never like this.”

I toss the sword aside and rise to my feet, offering Lyriax my hand. He takes it, his grip strong and sure as I pull him up.

We stand together, side by side, facing Arisha and the stunned crowd. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.

“You promised me a chance to fight for Becca,” I say, my voice steady. “And I’ve fought. I’ve given you your show. But if the price is taking an innocent life, then it’s not a price I’m willing to pay. I want my female, but she’d never forgive me if I take this male’s life to have her.”

Becca leaps to her feet and shouts, “Mercy!”

Arisha’s face is a mask of fury, but I can see the calculation in her eyes. She knows she’s been outplayed, that I’ve turned her own game against her. As she pauses, turning my challenge over in her mind, the crowd begins to chant.

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