gesture at the war room. "Come. We will practice your sword work."
She groans. "I don't want to."
"I did not ask if you wanted to," I tease. "I said we are going to."
My mate stomps her feet adorably, like a child, but turns and heads for the war room. She makes even more protests when I insist that we practice naked, but I am resolute. This is how it is done for every youth, I explain, and I see no need to break tradition.
Plus, I like watching Kim's rounded backside jiggle as she practices her swings. In this way, training is far more pleasant for the teacher than the trainee.
When my small mate is panting with exhaustion and her skin drenched with sweat, her arms trembling with every strike of her sword, I deem this enough for the day. "You have done well," I tell her. "We will pick up again tomorrow."
She wrinkles her nose and makes a face at me. "Are you sure you can't just teach me to use a blaster or something?"
"I will. I will also teach you how to fight barehanded. I will teach you how to use a bow. And a shield. And a two-handed sword. But for now, we learn this." I pat her back as she heads past me toward the showers. "You will thank me later."
"I am pretty sure I won't," she calls back.
That evening, we play cards and I show Kim battle vids of some of the more famous arena fights so she can see their techniques. I deliberately avoid showing her my fights, because she is already mistrustful. I avoid lrulti gladiators, too, and settle upon a fierce match featuring a drakoni warrior. It is a rare race I have only fought once in the arena, but I remember the match fondly. I love watching Kim's face as the match takes its twists and turns, and when the drakoni's collar chimes and falls off his neck, I see the unholy glory on the male's face a second before he shifts to his ferocious dragon form. Kim gasps in surprise, clutching at my arm, her gaze locked on the screen. "He shifted forms!"
"I know. Most owners keep their drakoni collared at all times because once they shift, they are near-invulnerable." I grunt as the dragon lands upon his opponent and tears him to pieces, and Kim claps a hand over her mouth.
"Oh my god."
The vid should end, but instead, the dragon takes to the stands, breathing fire and using his claws against the watching audience. This is my favorite part, because how many times did I have rotten food pelted on me from a surly audience? How many times did they call rude things in my direction when a fight took a bad turn? Those that pay to watch such fights up close are there simply for the blood spray and get everything they deserve.
But Kim's reaction is not one of pleasure. The look of horror grows on her face, and when she turns to me in shock, I decide that this was a bad call. I click the vid off, grimacing. "I am sorry, Kim. I did not realize that would be unpleasant for you."
"You liked it? He—he attacked everyone in the stands!"
"He did," I agree. "It must have felt good. I have been in his place many times before and wanted to attack those that get pleasure out of watching two males fight for their lives."
Her expression softens a bit. "I guess that would be awful. But…aren't we just as bad, watching the videos?"
"I do not know," I answer honestly. "I cannot say yes or no because most of my life has been involved in the arena in some fashion. I watch a great many fights to appreciate the prowess of the fighters, and to learn their moves. Those that watch in the stands are there for the blood, and they bet upon who will win. I do not care if they die."
She makes a soft noise in her throat. "In other words, it's complicated."
"Like everything else," I agree.
"Okay," she breathes and then gives me a firm nod. "I'm going to tell myself they're all bad guys and not let it bother me too much. It's just…very different. Even now, when I think I've seen the depths of depravity that the universe can offer, I'm always surprised again."
She thinks she has seen all the evils this galaxy has to offer? My innocent, sweet Kim? I hope I must never prove