“If you think I’m trusting those gakking Zarvu to handle our weapons, then you’re mistaken.” Retah pulls himself up to his full height of close to seven feet, and for a second or two, I can see how he was once a warrior. “We have to do it, or more specifically, you do.”
“You want me”—I point at myself—“to go to the dome to dole out weapons.”
“Only prior to the games,” Retah says. “You won’t be there all the time.”
“Me?” I stare at him.
“I can’t think of anyone else I trust,” Retah says. “You’re like a…daughter to me, Cleo. I want you to do it because you’re good at it.”
I shouldn’t let it happen, but a warmth blooms in my chest. I lost my parents too many years ago, but I still recall what it was like to make them say they were proud of me. I should not be allowing myself to get this close to Retah, to Tibi, or anything on this planet.
But what other choice have I got? If I do well, perhaps I can tell Retah about the baby. Perhaps he won’t want rid of me. Perhaps I might be able to make a life for myself, here on Trefa.
There’s only one problem.
Maxym.
And it’s a problem I’m going to have to solve, and fast.
MAXYM
“You vrexed in training today,” Klynn growls at me as he shoves past.
I know I did. My temper getting the better of me, I took it out on him, and he, being used to having no boundaries, easily bettered me.
To Klynn, this is tantamount to giving up.
To me, with the captain looking on, I can wave goodbye to my pass. I won’t be getting out of the dome anytime soon.
Such has been the cycle for the last nova-month in the run up to the seasonal games. The ones where species send challengers from across the galaxy.
The games where the prizes are the highest and I’m expected to be on my best form.
Only the blind rage which fills me has caused me to grind to a halt. All I want to do is hack and hack until there is nothing left. When I finally come to my senses, I’m usually at the mercy of Klynn's sword.
He loves it. I hate it.
I watch his wings swing as he swaggers away. The vrexer doesn’t care for much other than himself, and on every occasionhe gets, he’ll remind anyone in the vicinity of how important he thinks he is.
My desire to find my mate hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s stronger. The more I don’t have her in my arms or under me, the more my body wants her.
Except…how can I mate if I want to destroy the galaxy? When my mood changes like a snap? Could my inability to look for her be a sign? Fate pulled us together and now fate holds us apart?
“You were terrible today,” the captain growls at me. “And the games are two nova-days away.”
“I know,” I snarl back. “Give me a proper opponent, not that vrexer, and I’ll show you what I can do.”
“I’m not worried about your ability to kill and maim, Maxym.” The captain snorts a hot breath through his be-ringed nose. “The procurator wants style. He wants a show.”
“Vrex him. I’m here to do what I’m best at. If he wants a dance, he’ll need to get dancers.”
The captain sighs, his shoulders dropping as he looks me up and down. “We’ve got a new weapons supply coming in. Maybe that will encourage you to do better.”
“A gladiator is not his sword,” I respond.
The captain shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that. You love new weapons,” he says. “And these are very good ones, sourced from a single forge in Sartak. Best I’ve ever seen.”
Vrex it, he knows how to manipulate me.