hold up my sword in mocking salute to them. Out of the corner of my eye I see the main spectator box. In that box is Dominus and Domina. Serving them today are Cora and Kennedy.
I stalk my way across the sands towards the box. I come to a stop before it and give a half bow to the Governor, who I was told would be the one in the middle. The nasty fuck nods and smiles, so I straighten.
On the opposite side from my Dominus is another Krixian and his mate, who is also a Krixian. They aren’t dressed as nicely as the Governor or even my owners. Their clothing is threadbare, worn, and they have two slaves with them too, but one of them is a scrawny male. The other, though female, has no top. Both the slaves wear skirt-like things that also look thread worn.
Behind those two slaves I catch a flash of red. When the male slave shifts his stance, I see her for the first time. Scarlet. She looks gaunt and much the worse for wear. All that aside, she’s alive and she is here. Now all I have to do is win.
The announcer resumes his introductions.
“And who shall challenge this newcomer to the arena?” A hush falls over the crowd. “Will she be outmatched by some more experienced gladiator?”
“No,” the crowd yells.
“No, that wouldn’t be fair! People of Venta, who will it be?”
“Just fucking say it,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
My attention is locked on the opponent’s gate. The door swings open and the iron portcullis is rising, but I can’t see who or what is in the shadows.
“Who better than another of her own kind!” the announcer calls.
“What the fuck?” I spin to the box behind me.
Dominus is leaning forward on the edge of his seat, looking down at me. He has a look on his face that I can’t read. He’s either pleased or pissed, but which I don’t know. I turn back to the opponent’s gate.
“On special loan by the illustrious House Kiltrias,” the announcer says. “People of Venta, meet Nevaeh!”
Nevaeh walks out of the shadows onto the sands, swinging her sword. My stomach drops and my heart stops.
“Shit.”
Chapter 17
Kiara
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I curse.
Nevaeh frowns, shaking her head, then sighs. This is insane. Put on a show, Anzil’s words ring in my ears. Well, if it’s a show they want, let’s see what she’s learned.
Decision made, I race across the sand, sword held ready. Nevaeh grimaces then brings her sword up to a ready position and runs at me. Steel sings as it meets its mate, still ringing as we pass each other. Sand flies as I skid to a stop and turn in time to meet her new attack.
“Commander,” Nevaeh says.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.
“Surviving,” she says.
We move through the intricate steps of sword work. She meets every blow perfectly, weaving and dodging as our steel meets again and again.
“Well hoorah,” I grunt, closing with her as I try to push through her defense. She smiles broadly.
“You’re good,” she says.
“So are you,” I say.
“Then let’s put on a show, hey Commander?”
“Right,” I agree.
We break apart and stop. Staring at each other from three feet apart, swords held ready. The crowd is quiet, waiting to see what we’ll do, but the tension is thick. She gives a barely perceptible nod, and we go for it.
The swords flash in the sun, and the clashing of them becomes a song. A clanging rhythm, the music of death’s march. I miss first and her sword slices my upper arm. The crowd explodes, cheering and yelling for more blood.
I retreat, huffing hard. Blood gushes from my arm, but fortunately it’s my left. If it was my right, holding the sword would be much harder.
“Nice,” I say, grinning.
“Yes sir,” she says. “More?”
“I’m nowhere near done yet, marine,” I say.
I leap into the air, and she retreats from the onslaught. I’ve forced her onto defense, which was my main goal. I press the advantage.
Clang. Clang. Slice, duck, swing, dodge.
Everything else falls away. It’s the two of us in an intricate dance. All the training with Anzil has made this second nature. It’s like breathing. I don’t think about the next move, I do it. Nevaeh is good, but she’s slowing. Her breath is getting shallower and her blocks are a hair off.
Gratitude to Anzil swells my chest. Okay, I’ll admit it. At least to myself. I love that big