Читать книгу Venators: Promises Forged - Devri Walls - Страница 12

GLADIATOR

Grey followed Rune and Tate back inside the council house. Tate stalked ahead, everything about his posture betraying his dread. He led them in silence toward the dining hall at the back of the foyer—where they’d met the council the first time—then took a sharp left. Multiple hallways departed from the main in both directions. Most appeared abandoned and loomed with menacing dark. But the main hall glittered with light that illuminated the ancient beauty.

Ceilings towered twenty feet high, with gilded moldings and hand-painted frescos. Grey took in every image, deciphering the stories they told, immersed in some of the finest fantasy art he’d ever seen.

The mental slip made him smile. He was currently following a blue man to find books on how to effectively hunt werewolves. It wasn’t fantasy anymore, was it?

“Oh no,” Rune muttered.

Grey pulled his gaze from the ceiling. Ahead of them, Shax had turned the corner, and his bright-blue eyes were already fixated on Rune. He tugged at the cuffs of his white shirt, rolling them up, and adjusted course to the middle of the hall to force an interaction.

“Shax.” Tate nodded to the incubus.

Shax ignored Tate and took a sharp sidestep, putting himself between Tate and Rune and immediately in her path. She came up short, jerking to a stop.

“Hellooo,” Shax purred, looking her up and down as if she were a fine piece in a wax museum.

“Hello?” Rune scowled. “I’m not the one that said hello. Tate said hello, and you totally ignored him.”

Grey ducked his head, smiling.

“Hello, Tate,” Shax said absently, not bothering to turn around. “I didn’t see you there.”

“You didn’t see him . . .” Rune pursed her lips. “Tate’s a little hard to miss. He’s like six foot six,” she motioned, “and blue.”

Shax grinned, further enamored. “Whatever happened to those beautiful markings of yours?” He reached out a finger and ran it down Rune’s arm.

Rune gasped, no doubt feeling Shax’s magic, and stepped back. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, rubbing at her arm.

Sexual tension crackled through the air, emanating from Shax like heat waves. He leaned forward, shoulders wiggling like a cat about to pounce. “You have so much fire. I like it.”

“You can like it all you want.” Rune bit off every word, taking another step back. “From over there.”

“Fiery and resistant.” Shax ran his tongue over his lower lip, his eyes flashing. “I haven’t encountered that in some time.”

Grey’s teeth clenched. “Rune,” he blurted. “We need to get going.”

“Yes! Thank you.” Rune jumped at the escape hatch Grey had just opened. She took a wide step around Shax. “Tate, lead the way.”

She hurried forward. Linking her arm with Grey’s, she mouthed, Thank you.

Her touch was casual, he knew that, but still—his heart beat faster. There was something about her that made him want to be next to her. She leaned in closer, pressing her hip against his. Grey’s mouth went dry.

“He’s still watching me, isn’t he?”

Grey glanced back at Shax. “Yeah.”

“Great. What am I going to do?” she hissed. “I couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“Maybe try less obvious next time?” Grey suggested. “I’m pretty sure that just made him want you more.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tate said under his breath. “He will want Rune until he conquers her.”

“Wha—? Nobody’s conquering me!” She clenched Grey’s arm hard enough to hurt. “I’m not a damn contest.”

They turned one last corner. The hall dead-ended at a double door. Tate pulled one side open and motioned them inside. Rune slid her arm from Grey’s and walked in.

He felt her absence like a void.

Once inside, Grey looked around. “Whoa.”

There were libraries, and then there were rooms stuffed to the gills with books. This was a room of books. Grey’s fingers trailed over stacks that rose from the floor and others set on tables. Shelves stretched up walls two stories tall. Only a select few volumes stood in traditional neat rows; instead, books and papers exploded outward in a jumbled mess from each table and every shelf.

The room had been heavily neglected. It was also being used as storage for every instrument in the castle. In the center of the room sat what looked like a baby grand piano, but the board was too long and full of extra keys. He glanced in the open lid. There were no copper cords. It was strung instead with a variety of gold, silver, and green. On stands sat stringed instruments more ornately carved than any he’d seen. Some looked very much like instruments from home; others had two necks, extra frets, and so on.

Tate closed the door and jiggled the handle to ensure it was properly latched. He shrugged out of his trench and draped it over a stack of books. The cache of weapons hidden within the black coat clanged against the floor.

Rune grabbed a wooden chair from one of the tables and flipped it backward, straddling it. “OK, what’s the deal with Danchee?”

“It took you a whole four seconds longer to ask than I anticipated.” Tate dropped into a stiff-looking armchair.

“Four seconds.” Grey pushed some books out of the way and jumped up to sit on the table. “She’s making progress on this patience thing.”

Rune stuck out her tongue.

Grey laughed.

“I’ve tried to think of a way to tell you about my family without divulging my entire history. Unfortunately, it can’t be done. But I do not want, nor will I accept, your pity.” Tate looked sharply at both of them for emphasis. Once he’d decided his message had been received, he continued. “In this world, they once called me a gladiator. That means—”

“A gladiator?” Rune leaned forward. “As in, fighting to the death in an arena while people watch?”

Tate raised an eyebrow. “Your familiarity implies Venators took that tradition home too.” He shook his head. “Shouldn’t surprise me. After the gates closed, I’m sure the Venators’ thirst for blood needed an outlet.”

Grey couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How long?” His tongue felt thick and heavy. He stopped to swallow. “How long were you a gladiator?”

“I don’t know. The only way you left the arena was in a box, and I was good at surviving. Time became meaningless.”

“You were a prisoner?” Rune asked.

“Slave.”

“What’s the difference?” Rune was incredulous.

“Cost. I’m told I fetched a high price—Venshii are expensive. People like to watch us die.” He shrugged, the corner of his mouth wrinkled in the hint of a wry smirk. “Only I wouldn’t die. So the spectators loved to hate me. I was carted around from arena to hidden arena. It drove the betting higher. I became a very valuable commodity.” He absently rubbed his neck, but as his fingers crossed over the white, puckered skin, his expression grew dark. “I earned many of these.” He tapped the white swirls that marred his blue skin.

“What are they?” Rune asked.

“Brands. One per kill.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice.

“No pity!” Tate barked.

A sick sadness enveloped Grey. Determined not to let Tate see his emotions, Grey searched for something to say. Something not driven of pity. What came out was, “That’s not so many.”

Rune shot a hard look in his direction. Grey didn’t need it. He desperately wanted to retract the statement. But he couldn’t just pull words in like a fish at the end of a line.

“There are more.” Tate hooked a finger under his collar and pulled back. The top of another brand peeked out. Grey wondered how many more there were.

“A family affair,” Rune whispered.

Tate flinched.

“Your family. Were they . . .”

“My wife, yes. My son will be, once he comes of age.”

“They let gladiators marry?” Rune asked. “Or were you already married?”

“What better way to ensure you have more Venshii than to have them mate?” Tate said.

Grey gasped. “They bred you!”

“They tried. I refused . . . until I met Ayla. She changed everything.” A shadow passed over him, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “We never intended to give them another soul to torture. The pregnancy was an accident. Once my son was born, escaping was all we could think about. And all but impossible.”

Tate stopped talking. His eyes went blank, and Grey knew he was back in the arena with the woman he loved and a child he would never be able to fully protect.

The seconds ticked by until Rune finally spoke. “What happened?”

Tate blinked, coming back. “An opportunity presented itself to help the council retrieve two Venators. I agreed, under one stipulation. My family would be taken and hidden.”

“By the council,” Grey said.

“No.”

“But if not the—”

Tate held up a hand, cutting Grey off. He shook his head.

Grey pressed again, “But if they didn’t—?”

“Nobody knows that, and I will not be telling the two of you. Don’t ask me again.”

Rune’s eyebrows were pulled in tight, as they often were when she was puzzling out a problem.

“Rune,” Tate warned, “I mean it. Do not ask.”

If she’d heard, she gave no indication. Still frowning at the floor, Rune said, “When Danshee mentioned that it was a family affair, he said that he’d gotten the information from Feena.” Her eyes flicked to Tate. “Who is Feena?”

“Someone you don’t want to meet.” Tate stopped as if that would be satisfactory. One look at Rune, and he sighed, continuing, “She’s the queen over a population of fae whose territory happens to border the Sarahana River, which flows on the southeast side of the council house. There are constant rumors about what goes on within that section of forest, but unlike Cashel, Feena is more subtle in her crimes. She is both dangerous and ambitious, but without solid proof of wrongdoing, the council has been unable to move against her.”

“Ah,” Grey said, putting the pieces together. “You think Feena found your wife and son, but you’re not sure. That’s why you need Danchee.”

“Where do you think he went?” Rune asked.

“Probably back to Feena.” Tate said.

“Let’s go find him.” Grey went to push off the table but was stopped by Tate.

“No. Our training has barely begun. You are not prepared to deal with fae, and even if I had time to teach you, Rune just made a deal with Silen. That must take first priority.”

Rune’s eyes widened before she shrunk with guilt. “I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Tate said. “You were playing your part—damn well, too. We all are.”

“But we aren’t dealing with fae,” Grey said, unwilling to let the issue of Tate’s family die so easily. “Just Danchee. Not to mention, don’t you think the council would want to know that Danchee is working for Silen while running off to Feena? I don’t know a lot about this world, but that reeks of a spy.”

“Feena never does anything without a reason. If Danchee slipped while talking to us, it was because he’d been instructed to. No.” Tate shook his head. “Chasing Danchee into Feena’s territory is probably exactly what she was hoping I’d do. And I almost did.”

“But—”

Tate lunged up from the chair. “I said no! I have indulged you too much. You will listen, and you will learn before you get yourself killed. One step past the tree line into Feena’s realm, and you are never coming out.”