My Wild Pet (Whispers from the Imperial Cage #2)

Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

Gabriel

Briar is asleep and she looks so peaceful. As I watch her slowly breathe I think about our lives on Earth. I wonder if we would have ever met if we both were still on that planet. And my mind drifts to the conversation we had just twenty-four hours ago.

I told her about my upbringing in Paris, how my parents wanted me to study German, but I picked Spanish instead, ironically making me fluent in the language most human pets speak. If my parents saw me here—it makes my heart break to think about it. It’s better they think I died.

I told Briar things I’ve not spoken out loud in years, about the simple pleasures I took for granted on Earth. My music. I was talented. And I enjoyed it. And oh, how my parents nagged me to practice, but I always ran away from my piano, sneaking out to the park with my friends because I was a teenage boy too. Now, I’d give anything to feel real ivory keys under my fingers again, to let a haunting melody from Chopin or Debussy fill that room in my parents’ house. And how I miss real French food, fresh baguettes, warm croissants, pungent cheeses, and the sweetness of a macaron. Things I never imagined would be taken away from me forever.

Likewise, Briar told me about her own life, which was very different to mine. She’d grown up in foster care after losing her parents. Throughout her childhood, she was uprooted from one home to another, never truly settling until she went to university. Then, after graduation, she got a job and learned how to trade commodities. She said she made a lot of money and had acquaintances, but never anything more because from a very young age she’d learned to rely only on herself.

It was difficult to listen to her. I have my childhood to remember. My happy memories. She has nothing. It didn’t sound like her work, although lucrative, fulfilled her life. And now she is here in a cage, owned by aliens. It’s rare that I pity another pet on the Luminous Arc , but I pity Briar.

“Then, unexpectedly there’s you,” she said. “You’re the only light in this darkness. In my whole nightmare of a life, actually.”

I doubt she realized how powerful her words were to me. It felt like she reached into my soul and acknowledged every lonely hour I’ve spent here as an alien’s show pet.

I wipe away my tears as I watch the subtle rise and fall of her chest, and I hope she’s dreaming of something better than this alien pet world we’re trapped in.

I run my thumb over the back of her hand lightly. “Je te protégerai, Briar, I will protect you,” I whisper.

Today is Briar’s first day back after the fall. Aefre has put a countdown to the Grand Championships above our readouts. I don’t know if that’s for him or for us. I’ve been to three Grand Championships at the Celestial Spire, not once has he ever done this.

Briar is standing beside me at the starting line. There’s something new in the way she carries herself, she’s not pacing like she usually does.

“Begin , ” Aefre’s voice booms.

The course shifts ahead of us, obstacles forming with precision, the path revealing itself in fragments, changing and shifting before our eyes. I take the lead, but glance back briefly, something I wouldn’t have done two days ago.

Briar is right behind me. She doesn’t hesitate as I kneel to give her a boost over the wall, her hands gripping the top as she pulls herself up. For the first time, she’s not overthinking this.

“Good,” I say.

She nods and we continue. The next section is a series of swinging ropes, their movement timed to throw off our rhythm. We’ve failed here before. I jump first, the rope swaying wildly as I land on the platform on the other side. I turn, holding the next rope steady, and meet her gaze.

“Now , ” I say in Imperial.

Briar doesn’t hesitate. She jumps on my command. I watch her body move with an ease that surprises even me. She lands a little unsteady, but not enough to have points detracted from our score.

“Together , ” I say, pointing to the next set of ropes.

We move in tandem this time. I don’t know what’s changed, but Briar is more confident today, not what I expected after her fall.

The wall climb comes next, and I feel the tension rise in her again. This is where her hesitation cost her a fall. I step forward, my hand already outstretched to guide her.

“Trust me , ” I say in Imperial.

She looks up at me and for a second I see doubt in her eyes.

“Trust me, Briar,” I say in English and receive a small shock from Aefre. But it’s what Briar needed to hear in front of the same obstacle that almost killed her.

She takes my outstretched hand and we climb together, one right after another. I don’t let her out of my periphery vision.

When we reach the top, I turn and extend my hand again. She doesn’t hesitate. She takes it, and I pull her up.

“Good,” I say as we head toward the final obstacle.

A narrow bridge over a simulated valley. This is where trust is everything, where we have to move as one. I step onto the bridge first and she follows close behind.

“Left , ” I call out in Imperial, guiding her to shift her weight.

“Left , ” she repeats in her accented Imperial.

“Forward , ” I say, and she mirrors me perfectly.

The bridge sways beneath us. Step by step, we cross together. When we reach the other side, my heart is pounding, not from fear, but relief. Briar has definitely leveled up. Maybe Aefre was right?

“You were much better,” I say, my own breath coming fast.

She nods, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I had a lot of time to think in the medical center and I realized that I didn’t want to die from hesitating…I want to at least die trying,” she admits.

“For the first time that was satisfactory and would earn you a place in the Grand Championships , ” Aefre says interrupting our tête-à-tête. “You’re improving, but there’s still more work to do . Let’s do that one more time.”