Page 18

Alaysia

Alaysia tugged at the tight silk gown that clung to her curves, wishing for the hundredth time she could wear something less revealing. The private viewing box offered little comfort despite its luxurious furnishings. Below, the arena buzzed with anticipation as Fyret strutted around the ring.

“And now, your semifinalists!” Fyret’s voice boomed.

Alaysia’s stomach did flips as she watched the four fighters enter. Dernin’s golden scales caught the light perfectly, his powerful tail moving with a grace that belied his strength. Beside him stood Bariv, his bulky, slimy frame radiating menace even from this distance.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that dress if you keep fidgeting,” Marcella whispered.

“I can’t help it.” Alaysia’s fingers grabbed at the silk. “Look at the size of that Kronan fighter. And the Zentari’s supposed to be undefeated in his home rings.”

“Dernin has beaten tough odds before.”

“But Bariv...” Alaysia’s voice dropped lower. “Something about him feels wrong. The way he moves, how he fights—it’s like he knows he can’t lose.”

Down in the ring, Fyret clasped Bariv’s shoulder with familiar ease. The gesture sent a chill down Alaysia’s spine.

“Did you see that?” She leaned closer to Marcella. “The way Fyret touched him? Like they’re friends?”

“Hush.” Marcella’s eyes darted around. “Those kinds of observations could get you in trouble.”

Alaysia forced herself to sit straighter, adopting the demure pose expected of her. But her mind raced. The other two fighters looked formidable, yes, but Bariv was the real threat. The way he kept glancing up at her viewing box made her skin crawl.

“I hope our message reached someone,” she murmured. “If Dernin has to face Bariv in the finals...”

“Have faith,” Marcella said. “Your warrior’s stronger than you think.”

Alaysia’s cheeks warmed at “your warrior,” but she couldn’t deny how her heart leaped when Dernin’s golden eyes found hers across the arena. He gave her the slightest nod, and somehow that small gesture steadied her racing pulse.

Alaysia’s high heels clicked against the stone floor as she and Marcella made their way through the dim corridors. The flickering torches seemed to mock her growing anxiety.

“What if he loses?” Alaysia blurted out.

Marcella glanced around before responding. “Don’t think like that.”

“I have to, though.” Alaysia hugged herself, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the underground chill. “Bariv’s connection to Fyret, the way the matches are going... something’s not right.”

They passed a group of guards who leered at them. Alaysia’s skin crawled as she remembered Bariv’s hungry stares.

“If Dernin loses...” Her voice cracked. “You know what happens to women like me in places like this. The things they do—”

“Stop.” Marcella grabbed her arm, pulling her into an alcove. “Listen to me. That Niri warrior of yours is fighting like a man possessed. I’ve never seen anyone move like that.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Alaysia pulled at her dress. “And the message... What if that worker just took my jewels and ran? Fyret will notice they’re missing soon enough.”

“Kira’s worked with me before. She can be greedy, but she keeps her word when she’s paid.”

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both tense. They waited until the corridor cleared before continuing their walk back to their quarters.

“Two more days,” Alaysia whispered. “That’s all we have before the finals. The Niri warriors would have come by now if they got the message. Wouldn’t they?”

“Unless they’re planning carefully. A rescue isn’t something you rush.”

Alaysia just about threw up in her mouth at the thought of Bariv’s hands on her if he won. The way he’d looked at her earlier, like she was already his property... She’d rather die than submit to that.

“I won’t let them have me,” she said, her voice steel. “One way or another, I’m not becoming anyone’s plaything.”

Marcella squeezed her hand. “Then we better make sure Plan B is ready, just in case.”

The worn stone floors echoed with their footsteps as Alaysia and Marcella continued toward the corridor that led to the slave quarters. Alaysia’s silk dress rustled with each step, the sound making her increasingly aware of how trapped she felt in the fancy garment.

“You know, maybe we should really think about other options,” Alaysia whispered.

“Like what?” Marcella kept her voice low. “The kitchens have a delivery entrance.”

“Too many guards,” Alaysia countered. “The laundry carts?”

“They check those now. After that escape attempt last month.”

“The sewers?” Alaysia suggested half-heartedly.

“Sealed with iron grates.” Marcella shook her head. “And the smell would give us away before we got ten feet.”

The slave quarters came into view, the familiar heavy door a bitter reminder of her captivity. Alaysia’s chest tightened as they stepped inside. The room spun slightly, the reality of her situation crashing down around her.

“I can’t breathe.” Her hands shook as she clawed at her neck. “I can’t—what if—”

“Hey, hey.” Marcella guided her to the threadbare couch in the corner. “Sit down before you pass out.”

Alaysia sank into the worn cushions, the scratchy fabric grounding her somewhat. She focused on the familiar smell of dust and age, trying to slow her racing heart.

“Deep breaths,” Marcella said, sitting beside her. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

“If this doesn’t work...” Alaysia’s voice cracked. “If the message doesn’t reach anyone...”

“Then we’ll figure something else out.” Marcella covered her hand with hers.

The quiet sounds of the slave quarters—soft footsteps, hushed conversations, the distant drip of water—filled the silence as Alaysia fought to control her breathing.

Her mind kept circling back to Bariv’s hungry eyes, to Fyret’s knowing smirk, to all the horrible possibilities that awaited if their plan failed.

The tears came without warning. One moment Alaysia sat there trying to breathe, and the next she was sobbing, her carefully applied makeup running down her cheeks in dark streaks.

“I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice cracked as the words tumbled out.

“If Dernin loses, Bariv will... and then I’ll be.

..” She put her arms around herself, shuddering.

“And even if Dernin wins, what then? We’re all still trapped here.

The message probably never made it out. And Dernin—” Her chest constricted at the thought of him being hurt or killed in the ring.

“He’s risking everything, fighting so hard, and for what? He could die in there!”

Marcella pulled her close, stroking her hair like a mother would. The simple gesture of comfort only made Alaysia cry harder.

“What if we never get out of here?” Alaysia’s fingers clutched Marcella’s dress. “I thought I was strong enough to handle anything, but watching those fights, seeing how Fyret looks at Bariv... I’m terrified.”

“Listen to me.” Marcella pulled back, gripping Alaysia’s shoulders. “That Niri warrior isn’t just fighting for glory or freedom. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He fights like a man with something precious to protect.”

Alaysia’s heart fluttered at those words. “But what if it’s not enough? What if—”

“No more what-ifs.” Marcella’s voice was firm but kind. “You’re stronger than you know. And Dernin? That warrior has more skill and determination than anyone I’ve ever seen. Have faith in him. Have faith in yourself.”

Alaysia wiped at her tears, smearing more makeup across her face. “I just...”

Alaysia wrung her hands in her lap as she struggled to find the right words. The tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving sticky trails she couldn’t quite wipe away.

“There’s something else,” she whispered. “Something worse than all of this.”

Marcella shifted closer on the worn couch. “What could be worse?”

“I think...” Alaysia’s voice caught. “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

“With Dernin?” Marcella’s eyes softened. “Tell me more. What makes him so special to you?”

The question sparked something deep within Alaysia, and words tumbled out unbidden. “He looks at me like I’m the only person in the whole universe.” She paused. “And he sees me for who I really am.”

Her hands gestured as she spoke, becoming more animated. “And he’s gentle, despite all his strength.”

“Go on,” Marcella encouraged.

“He makes me feel safe, but not because he’s protecting me. He makes me feel like I can protect myself.” Heat flooded Alaysia’s cheeks. “When we talk, he actually listens. And his smile...” She touched her chest where her heart fluttered. “Oh wow, I really am in love with him. Aren’t I?”

“Sounds like it.” Marcella squeezed her hand. “And that terrifies you?”

“Of course it does! I’ve never...” Alaysia stood, pacing the small space. “I’ve never had a choice before. About anything. Especially not about who to give my heart to.”

“Well, if you love him, truly love him, for once in your life, listen to what your heart wants,” Marcella said gently.