Page 69 of Baited

“Providing you don’t cry on me, either of you,” she says fiercely. “I expect my workers to be strong.” She gets to her feet. “Meet me in the reception in ten nova-minutes,” she says, sweeping out of the room like a Spanish galleon in full sail.

“What just happened?” Riklinn asks. “I think I put too much whisky in those drinks because I’m sure the madame just askedme to run her business for her while she takes you to Sartak to find your mate.”

BLAYN

The crowd roars, the sound muffled behind the protective forcefields. Rych spins his sword as we face the three competitors ranged against us.

Sartak wants blood and these three are about to die, two Habosu and an Oykig, all of whom think they can take on Rych and me.

We’re already covered from head to foot in blood which is not our own. My feathers are slick with it, and with the bout yesterday.

Bathing is not something I care for anymore. I don’t want to do anything but fight, eat, and fight again. If I sleep, the dark and the light return.

I do not wish to see them again.

The Oykig charges and I slice away part of his tail, sending him fleeing from me. I don’t follow. The crowd jeers but the wound is a fatal one if he doesn’t get treatment in time, and it’s up to him to make that choice, not me.

The two Habosu look at each other, clearly deciding which one of us they will take on. With a roar, the one opposite Rych leaps for me, just as his compatriot decides to go for Rych. Theycollide in mid air, heads knocking against each other before falling to the ground in a heap.

I plant the point of my sword on the dusty floor of the Sartak dome and lean on the pommel. Rych stares at the prone Habosu.

“Is this all they have?” I query as the doors at the far end open and the entrance fills with black clad guards.

Rych’s face is dark with all the violence he wants to expend and, like me, has been denied.

“This is a vrex-show,” he growls.

I attempt to shake my feathers, but they don’t rattle anymore. I’m pretty sure I can’t fly. Exhaustion settles on me and I can’t give in to it.

“Ready?” I query, lifting my sword.

“Again?” Rych queries.

“I want a fight. So do you,” I respond.

He growls under his breath, head bowed, chin on his chest. “Yes.” The word is barely audible.

The guards approach and we make ready, until the lights go out.

Both of us have great eyesight, especially in the dark, and I see the forcefield strengthen to the point it becomes opaque and the number of guards triples.

This time we’re not going to get a fight.

I drop my sword. All I want is my Izzy in my arms. It’s the only thing I want, the only thing I need, and the one thing denied to me. Letting the dark and the light in might be the only option.

When the lights come back on, we’re surrounded, but it’s not a surprise.

“This is not the reason you were sent here.” The Sartak procurator steps through the ring of guards.

The tall, horned Cynos gazes at us, his silver skin pulling in the light rather than reflecting it as would be expected. My headhurts looking at him. He remains horribly familiar, the dark and the light embodied.

I hate him.

I want to kill him, but Rych moves between us.

“You wanted us to fight, so we’re fighting,” he says. “But we were sent here. It’s not like there is any incentive for us to fight…well.”

The Cynos snorts, his nostril holes flaring in his blank face, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

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