Page 15 of Chained

Klynn, a Gryn with wings darker than Maxym, and a half-healed injury running from his left eye to his jaw, glances over at me.

I brace myself, expecting this situation to go sideways very quickly. I grab hold of a sword, arming myself against the coming storm.

Klynn releases a snarl which could rend flesh from bone as Maxym extends his wings and snaps them shut with a noise akin to half a dozen blades being rattled.

The second gladiator leans to one side and locks eyes with me. Something which might be a smile creeps onto one side of his mouth and it’s quickly gone.

“Looks like you’ll have something to fight for after all, Maxym,” he rasps. “But I’m supposed to be given a weapon.”

“I’ll choose for you,” Maxym says, folding his arms over his broad chest.

He is the larger, by a considerable amount. Not that I’d want to come up against Klynn either. He’s still massive and muscular but with a wirier build and an evil glint to his eye.

“How can I trust you to get me the best?” he asks, clearly enjoying goading Maxym.

“You can’t. And you’ll get second best, as always.”

Klynn snorts. “A blade is a blade at the end of the nova-day,” he responds. “They all kill the same.”

He gives me another look, which earns him a blood-curdling growl from Maxym. For several long seconds, I think the fight is back on, but instead Klynn hitches up a wing and backs off.

“Pick me a good blade, brother,” he says as he turns to leave. “One which I can use to take off your head.”

With his passing violence, Klynn is gone.

“Is he always like that?” I ask of Maxym’s heaving back.

“Klynn is Klynn. He does what he does, and he’ll never take my head,” Maxym rasps.

One wing droops as he turns back to me. I check over the weapons laid out on my table.

“He was the last. I’m done for the day,” I say as I count everything up.

Maxym carefully moves beside me. I’m surrounded by the scent of his feathers, spicy and delicious. My stomach growls.

“Do you have…hunger?” Maxym asks, his wings slightly flared.

I am so embarrassed, so caught unawares, for a second I think he means something else entirely.

“Do you need to feed?” Maxym adds.

I blink rapidly as my brain processes what he said and what it actually means.

“Yes, I’m hungry. It’s been a long time since breakfast.” I select a sword and put it into the box of sheaths next to me whichdenotes who gets which weapon. “I’ll get something from Tibi when I get back.”

“Tibi?” Maxym growls her name.

“Retah’s housekeeper and cook. She’s a Cirmos,” I find myself explaining.

My huge gladiator visibly relaxes.

“You need sustenance now, not later,” he says.

“I’ll be fine,” I respond, clearing the remainder of the weapons into the unused box and then setting up the locks to ensure Retah’s stock is safe from Zarvu, or others who might be light-fingered.

An arm snakes around my waist, and I’m spun to face my wall of muscle and feathers. Without thinking, I put my hands against his warm skin, feeling the hardness beneath.

“I am here to protect you, even from yourself,” Maxym intones. “You will eat before you leave.” He says it as an order.

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