Page 29 of Chained

“What?” My head is spinning now, unsure whether to continue the denial and at the same time wanting to know what Tibi means about “her own game.”

She puts the spoon down carefully. “Cleo, is the youngling in your belly his?”

I want to curl up and die. All this time I thought I was doing well, hiding my secrets from this world, getting on with my life as best I could.

“Does Retah know?” I whisper, feeling faint.

“About the Gryn or your young?” Tibi says, planting her hands on her hips. “He knows nothing. So, is it the Gryn’s?” she demands.

“No.” My voice is hoarse. “I was pregnant before I was brought to Trefa. It was a mistake.”

“But he has accepted it?”

“Maxym? He says we both belong to him.” I can hardly hear the words myself, so I don’t know if Tibi heard them or not.

Her face softens. “He did?”

Pain, rage, and sorrow rise up in me. Tears I don’t want form in my eyes.

“I don’t want him to die,” I blurt out.

“My sweet one,” Tibi is by my side, “have you ever seen the Gryn fight? Because I can promise you, Maxym will not be dyingin the dome, today or any other day. Not while he has a mate to return to.”

MAXYM

The captain forbids any sale of gladiators for pleasure in the week prior to any games. He believes it spoils our performance.

Whether he’s right or not, I currently feel like I could take on an army, let alone a dome of vrexing piss poor challengers who would pose little risk at best and a slight distraction at worst.

My biggest enemy in the dome used to be the Gryn-storm which was Blayn. While Klynn is not to be trusted, I can rely on him not to attempt to kill me, at least while someone else is.

I go through my paces in the training arena. The level of concentration I can put into my moves is intense, and I can feel the power flowing through me. It imbues my muscles with more strength than I think I’ve ever had, so when I throw the sword at the target, the thing embeds itself up to the hilt.

“Gryn and their mates.” The captain leans against the wall next to the entrance to the training arena. He shakes his head. “I never thought I’d be rid of you all, but it turns out a female can draw you further than any pulsar cannon can fire you.”

“What mate?” I growl.

“The little female armorer.” The captain chuckles. “Do you really think an old bull like me can’t see the change in you sinceshe arrived? I’m not immune to the charms of a pretty female, you know.”

I’m in front of him in a wing beat, snarling like I’ve never snarled before. “She is mine.”

The captain holds up his hands, his hooves stamping on the dusty floor.

“She is yours, Maxym. I have no intention of getting between the two of you.”

I take a step back, my conscious self asserting over the feral Gryn I have been.

“But the procurator on the other hand—he is bound by the Galactic Council decree, and even if he wasn’t, the chances of him freeing you are…not great.”

“I didn’t do it,” I rasp. “My master was murdered to further the interests of those who take species like mine and enslave them to their own ends. Like the Drahon.”

“The Drahon are a spent force, confined to their planet in the outer quadrants,” the captain responds. “Any reports to the contrary are…” he spreads his hands, knowing it was the Drahon Rych and I battled not so long ago. “Let’s just say they’re not a threat.”

“They are here, on Trefa. They were there in the facility which held me before I was sold,” I growl. “I know why I’m here and so do they. The foul creatures are an advance force for something else.”

“So, the head injury knocked some sense into you after all.” The captain grunts. “About time. Looks like your mate came along at the perfect moment.”

“What would you have me do, if you think it is all for naught?” I growl at him.

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