Page 20 of Chained

“What will you do instead?” I ask, relief flooding through me because as irritating as Klynn is, I’d rather not kill him today.

“I have plans,” he says mysteriously. “Cover for me until I get there.”

Klynn is rarely coherent, so I flare my wings and give them a shake.

“Okay.”

“You owe me one.” Klynn scoops up his sword from the arena floor and waggles it at me as he backs away. “And I will best you, later, in the dome.”

Like the vrexer ever has. No one has beaten me, and with my new weaponry, no one will.

I make sure I’ve bathed before I head to the armory. My feathers are still damp, but my desire to be there when she arrives is solid.

She will be greeted by a Gryn who will nest for her, when I have gathered all the things I need. And sparring with Klynn has taken precious time away from my search.

“What are you doing here, Gryn?” A Zarvu guard, his face covered by a helmet which is entirely unnecessary, asks.

“None of your business,” I growl at him. “Stand aside.”

“I can have you sent back to the hole,gladiator. You belong to the dome, it doesn’t belong to you.” He sneers.

I feel the anger rising, the need to do violence which is always sitting in the front of my brain like a squatting animal who is not me and yet is part of my soul.

I slam him into a nearby wall. Claws outstretched, I’m on top of him before he can make any move toward the pulsar weapons at his belt.

“I belong to no one.” I clutch at his throat, choking him, watching his color change under my hand. “I am here because the Galactic Council made an error. I won’t be here forever.”

He makes a few gurgling noises, hands flailing at mine, but he’s no match for me, not without weapons and not on his own.

“Maxym?” Cleo’s voice penetrates the anger.

Vrex.

CLEO

The massive gladiator is slowly strangling the life out of a guard as I round the corner to the main passage leading into the armory.

I can’t imagine that is a good thing, for him or the guard. Maxym’s wings shiver, and his form seems larger than ever as he growls at the guard.

“The Galactic Council made an error. I will not be here forever,” he snarls.

“Maxym?” I hear myself say.

He turns with a growl, wings flaring and a feral look in his eyes. For a second or two, I’m not sure what he’s going to do and whether I should have, perhaps, simply retreated.

His gaze slowly returns to the guard beneath him. With a disgusted snort, he lets the Zarvu go, pushing away from him in an easy fluid movement, and stalks into the armory.

The guard coughs, rolls himself to his feet, gives me a searching glance, and scuttles away. Something tells me Maxym is going to regret tangling with this particular guard.

The luggage bot follows me as I enter the armory. Maxym stands in the far corner, next to a rack of spears, his back to me, his dark wings shaking slightly.

I position the bot as I unlock the cases from yesterday and begin to set up my table. After a while, I feel his eyes on me.

“I was accused of murdering my former owner,” Maxym says. “He was a member of the Galactic Council. They wanted to make an example of me, and I was sent here to thrive or die. Mostly die.”

I’m stunned. Stunned at the way he shared this information with me. Stunned he chose this moment to tell me.

“Did you kill him?” I ask, my voice trembling.

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