Caged Warrior (24 page)

“I’ll bring the whip. We enjoyed it so much last time.”

Nynn frowned in confusion, but an insult was ready on her tongue. “Save it for the
ring, knife-branded scum.”

He stepped within inches and leaned close to her ear. “I’ll break one bone. You’ll
scream. And before you finish screaming, I’ll have broken
all
of them.”

“What’s your clan, Hellix? I don’t remember which one’s gift is wishful thinking.”

Hark laughed. “Leto, is this how you’ve spent your time? Teaching her how to talk
trash? That’s a bold approach. I should consider a refresher course.”

“No need, you idiot clown,” Hellix snarled.

Leto shouldered through the other combatants and looked down one inch. The exact difference
in height between him and Hellix. “Shut up.”

Although Silence didn’t say anything, a slinky smile tipped the edges of her lips.
Hark grinned and rested his chin on her shoulder, as if settling in to watch. He whispered
something in his partner’s ear. Her tiny smile increased. The pair was as enigmatic
as the Sphinx, there in the Nile Valley where the Sath staked their territory.

Another woman named Weil of Clan Pendray looked on with utter detachment—which wouldn’t
last when she let loose her manic fury. Leaning against one of the beige walls, Fam
laughed outright. After so many weeks deciphering Leto’s tightly reined expressions,
that laugh was grating, like shouting during a wedding ceremony.

The sooner she could fight, the better.

When the doors behind them were secured, the ones ahead of them opened. A long airlock.
Leto turned away from Hellix without haste. He pushed a path through the others and
led the way. A primal shot of lightning struck pleasure through Nynn’s body. The hollow
behind her breastbone tingled. Her fingers prickled with the remembered feel of his
short hair and the soft, warm skin of his temples. Her lips tingled, wanting another
taste of him.

She ignored Silence, Hark, Hellix, and anyone else who wasn’t Leto, then followed
him toward the other doors. There, guards removed the manacles. She shook her wrists
and circled them clockwise, counterclockwise. She popped her knuckles. Rolled her
neck. Adrenaline mixed with the scent of Leto’s skin and the warmed leather of his
armor. They stood that close.

“This way,” he said. “The Old Man wants to meet you before the matches begin.”

Although the guards technically encircled them, Leto strode through the maze of hallways,
sloping corridors, and stairwells as if he’d been born to the task. Very nearly. Every
glance she shot toward his profile revealed the same locked-down expression. Stoic,
calm, but with a concealed, buzzing energy. Maybe it was the way his eyes never stopped
moving, or the way he occasionally
slid his jaw from side to side. From Leto, it was practically fidgeting.

She anticipated the moment they would stand together in the Cage and she would see
when the collars deactivated. His powers returned to him. Sexual release had never
looked so enticing. She wanted to see it, then see it again—a unexpected reward for
surviving each match.

“Leto,” came a voice.

Beneath wrapped leather, the hair on Nynn’s forearms tried to stand on end. Those
on her nape did. Before their assembly of large men and formidable women, all deadly
warriors, stood warped and stooped Old Man Aster. He supported his weight with a cane,
although there wasn’t much to support. Skeletons had more bulk and more color. He
was a corpse with a jester’s wide smile.

“And Nynn,” he continued. “Welcome. I anticipate what you have to show us this evening.”

“I hope to earn your respect, sir.”

He angled a bizarre look toward Leto. “Interesting.”

That seemed . . . anticlimactic. He added an extra layer of strange to the moment
by turning to greet other combatants. Was he that detached?

She caught up with Leto’s long strides. “How many times did you say that the Old Man
had picked me out? That he had some big plan for me?”

They were admitted to a weapons room, full to brimming with every manner of metal
and steal and wood. “Enough for you to believe it,” he said, selecting his favorite.
The mace.

“And that was all we get? A sneer and a noncommittal
comment? He should’ve offered some kind of congratulations.”

“He didn’t sneer.” From a wall of swords and daggers, he selected three before turning
to face her. “And why congratulate a warrior who has yet to win? There’s no value
in praise offered before it’s earned.”

“Is that why you never congratulate me?”

Leto’s eyes glimmered, as black and shining as the accents on his armor. They narrowed.
Dark brows drew together. Only a person who was really looking for those clues would
find them. “If we win, we’ll be congratulating each other. You remember what I said
about how warriors are rewarded, don’t you?”

“Sex.”

“Yes.”

“Winner’s choice.”

“Yes,” he said again, his intensity as strong as any touch.

Nynn stepped to within inches of his armored masculine beauty. She lifted her hands
and cupped his skull, tracing her thumbs along his temples. The head and the tail
of the serpent. “And what happens if we both win? Will you choose me, Leto?”

“No. You’ll choose me.” He pulled away from her hands, turning toward the wall of
weapons. “Now. We will select your dagger.”

♦   ♦   ♦

He didn’t make a suggestion. He didn’t even hold one blade slightly more forward than
the others. All he did was present them as equals. Other warriors from the Aster family
came and went, took what they needed. Their insults and buoyant boasts were the buzzing
of
insects. Leto would shut them all out until he needed to see them again—as opponents,
or as victorious comrades.

He only waited for Nynn. “Choose.”

“You said ‘we’ will select. That implies you giving me a clue.”

“These are the three that will best fit your frame and the size of your hands. They’re
lightweight, sturdy, and you should be able to hold on to them even when you use your
gift.”

The trio gleamed in the armory’s ambient lighting. One was decorated with gold leaf.
One copper, edged in green. One plain steel.

“So is this some sort of test? Pick the plain one. Or pick the ugly one. Dragon forbid
I go all girly and choose the pretty one.”

“It’s a test, but not like that. How well do you know your abilities?”

A tight pressure gathered in his lungs, which were already tight from the prospect
of sharing one another after their victory. They had to get there first. No matter
his outward confidence—confidence in himself, really—he couldn’t deny that Nynn was
a wild animal.

As for the long daggers, he knew which one would make her a champion. He wanted
her
to know as well. Proof he’d done well. Proof they had more than a chance at victory.

I intend to be astonishing.

He wanted that nearly as much as he wanted victory for himself. And afterward, after
the applause . . . they would unleash that potency on each other. Dragon damn, he
wanted this woman.

“Let me hold them,” she said.

Leto nodded. Yes, that was the first step toward making the right choice.

One by one, she took the blades in hand. Hark and Silence entered the armory. Per
their custom, he chose a silver
nighnor
and she picked a shield with a slim profile and razor-sharp edges. Both stopped,
watched Nynn for a moment, then moved on. Hark was markedly quieter than usual. Before
a match, even their resident chatterbox had enough sense to know when to shut up.

“This one,” Nynn said.

Something close to disappointment settled in his lungs, as if he breathed heavier
air. She’d chosen the plain steel sword. Fine. A good weapon. But it was not as elegant
as her movements. The blade had little give and no flair.

“Good enough,” he managed to say.

What had happened to the easy confidence he’d felt during the ride over? The closer
they got to the start of the match, the more he doubted.

“You think I made a bad choice?”

“You made a choice. Who knows what way the match will play out.” He handed her a particular
shield, offering no room for error this time. “We haven’t much time.”

Nynn gnashed her upper teeth into her lower lip. She shook her head. “You’re impossible.
I’m trying to learn and you’re playing cryptic master of secrets.”

“What happened to being astonishing?”

“It’d be nice if I had some help!”

“Shut up, neophyte.”

“Save it for Hellix,
sir
.” She strapped the scabbard around her waist. “Now, who do we butcher first?”

“Is this still a joke to you? Even still? Dragon damn, woman. I will not step foot
in a Cage with you if that’s how you think.”

“Go take it up with the Old Man.”

She hefted her shield into place. The pivot of her heel turned her in a perfect half
circle.

She froze, screamed, and drew her sword. Because Dr. Aster stood in the doorway, with
the Pet at his feet.

Leto jumped forward and hauled her away. “Put that away, you maniac,” he growled.

Nynn blinked and . . . she did as she was told.

Leto’s heart became a wild beast, beating and clawing, as she sheathed her weapon.
If he’d needed any more proof that Ulia had changed Nynn, perhaps irrevocably, he
had it now.

D
r. Aster smiled, just short of repulsive. “My father informed me that tonight would
be a special occasion. Our newest champion?”

Leto nodded, his stomach lurching. “She is untested, but I believe her ready to honor
the Asters.”

“Good. Then many lessons were learned the other night.” He glanced at Nynn, who was
puzzled. Or angry. Or sleepwalking. Leto couldn’t tell, but Dr. Aster seemed very
pleased. “And what do you say, neophyte? What is your name?”

“Nynn of Clan Tigony.”

“Hmm. I thought you were called something else. Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

Leto slowly let her go. Part of him was convinced this was some elaborate ruse on
her part, that she’d attack and murder the reptilian man. Dragon be, part of him
wanted
that to be true. He was on the verge of caring too much. Nynn’s pain had been so
obvious—nearly as obvious as the scars marring her gorgeous body.

That scream. Instant recognition. Then gone.

“And I’m Dr. Aster. A pleasure to meet you, Nynn.”

Her fingers were tight around the hilt of her sword. Tight enough to clear the blood
from her knuckles. Bone white. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m impressed, Leto. Few would’ve thought this one possible to tame.”

“She’s not tamed, sir. She’s
trained
.” If Nynn could manage to be calm, so could he.

“Exactly. I’m glad you haven’t taken it personally. You know now what had to be done.”

“All I know is what you’ll see in the Cage.”

“I look forward to it. Come along,” he said to the woman at his feet.

The Pet didn’t leave right away. She glided toward them as if she floated rather than
walked. Again she wore a bodysuit of skintight black leather. A spiked collar circled
her neck, but Leto couldn’t tell if it had damping properties, or if it was just a
jagged bauble to decorate a strange, beautiful creature.

She stopped within inches of Nynn, who remained still. Although the Pet moved with
unbelievable grace, her voice was sure and clipped. “The Chasm isn’t fixed.”

Leto frowned and was glad to see when Nynn did, too. “I don’t know what that means,”
she said.

“Fight well, Nynn of Tigony.”

Only when the woman departed did Nynn press two fingertips to each temple. She clenched
her eyes shut. Sat heavily.

“No time for that,” Leto said roughly. There was no time for patience. “We fight.
Now.”

She opened her eyes and blinked back what looked like tears. But her gaze was clear,
strong, energized. “Good.”

He led Nynn—a little dazed, but remarkably steady on her feet—toward a gathering anteroom
where the combatants were given their assignments.

Nynn stood at his shoulder, trying to read the paper he held. Her smile was brilliant,
with teasing lips that bordered perfect, almost small white teeth. Whatever shock
and possible memories from her encounter with the doctor had faded entirely. “So,
who do we get to humiliate?”

“You’re taking to this rather well.”

“Careful, Leto. That almost sounded like a joke.”

He stilled. Chills shivered beneath his armor. The hair atop his head itched with
a sudden prickle of sensation. She had used his given name before, but now they had
the promise of victory between them. All that could entail. He would hear her gasp
his name when he entered her.

Another weakness. And another reason to win.

“The Pendray woman, Weil,” he said. “And Urman, sent by the Townsends.”

“What’s his clan? I can’t recall.”

“Tigony.”

“Too bad for him. No trickster gets by another.” She walked an appreciative glance
down his body, then back up to his face. A deep pulse of awareness radiated out from
her smile, into him. “Let’s do this.”