Chapter 12 – The Fix Is In
The contents of my stomach curdled. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I hissed. "Did you know?"
Araxis stared at me, the skin around his eyes tight. "Did I know what?"
"That I'm in the same stupid Tournament? Fuck!" It punched out of me, a ragged shout, and I turned and threw my swords in a violent clatter across the empty space, scrubbing my hands up my face, tangling my fingers in my hair, walking as far away as I could.
He couldn't –
I wouldn't –
And it wasn't just about me. If he didn't win, those children would die. They couldn't hide forever; no one could, not even in a universe this big. I was proof of that. But how could I even dream of winning, if that meant killing him and killing Talvi, Adrathi, Sadin?
"Oh my god," I cried, furious. And then, impossibly, I started to laugh. It tore from me, raw and ragged, mad. It tasted like shards of glass.
Behind me, I could hear Araxis move. "Sashen," he said, gently, so gently.
"Oh, no, it's fine," I said, tears trickling down over my cheeks. I felt scraped to sinew. Broken. "Whatever. I wasn't going to make it anyway. I was never going to make it. This is it, my mess. Maybe I can watch your back or something, I don't know. It's fine. Who fucking cares."
"Sashen," he said again, and his hand touched my arm.
This time, it didn't feel like electricity; his touch stung, sharp and bright, and I jerked away.
"I did not know," he lied.
I didn't know he was lying then, of course.
I heard his soft voice, and I believed him with all of my heart.
I believed him like an absolute fool. If I'd known then that he was lying, if I'd had a single moment of skepticism, I might have adjusted my expectations for him accordingly.
I might have guarded my heart a little more closely.
But then, it didn't even occur to me that he might lie: I trusted him in the way I trusted gravity as a law of the universe. How could I not?
"I thought… I thought it likely that Alet Trident had sent you to gather information, to better the den's odds for the betting pools.
I didn't imagine you would compete when you have a job.
Why would you ever compete, my dancer?" His hand touched me again, and this time I didn't pull away, though I could feel myself trembling, a leaf caught in the wind.
"I wondered if you were going to send her information about me. "
"And you didn't care?" I asked blearily, still swiping away tears. My throat was tight; it felt almost bruised. I couldn't catch my breath. "You told me so much, Araxis."
"I trusted you to keep secret what needed to be secret. I trust you, Sashen. The rest wouldn't have mattered. I must win. Why would I care what the odds are when viewers place their bets? Now that you know – and I know – Vivith is right. We can make a plan."
"There won't be a plan, not for me." I turned finally to look at him.
His subvocals keened as he took me in, hand lifting to touch my cheek, to brush away the teardrops still caught in my eyelashes that made all the lights go fuzzy.
"I don't have a job, not any more. Seraphim filed a debt claim for me, for the first fifteen years of my stupid life, and it's so much.
Alet wouldn't pay – what a shitty investment, right?
– and so they were going to come for me.
They still will. I thought, why the fuck not enter this stupid thing?
Either I win and I can buy out my debt, or I die and then I'm free of it that way. "
Araxis brushed my face again, tender. "How much?"
I fell silent. I knew what he was doing.
"It's not your problem to fix," I said, voice thick.
"It is my pleasure to care for you in this way," he murmured. "Do you have the claim?" When I nodded, he leaned close and pressed a kiss to my cheek. His crest brushed against my temple, feather-light. "Good. Send it to me. The prize is substantial. I will pay your debt when I win."
He couldn't. He couldn't. "You'll need it for the Concord." He'd said that much.
Araxis shook his head, his quills rustling, just slightly, his perfect braid looser and more relaxed than usual after our morning together.
He reached and brushed a curl from my face, tender.
"We will sit with Vivith, and we will plan.
You will not die in that arena, Sashen, and you will not go back to a place that does not cherish you.
Come. We will drink tea and make a plan, and then we will go back to my room and the world outside will fall away. "
What could I do but nod and follow where he led?
Vivith might have creeped me the fuck out, but it was true: they were good at planning.
I don’t know what else I expected from someone who'd managed to steal three eggs in transit to another creche, plucking them out from under the nose of a much more powerful family.
We sat in the dining room, a particularly smoky tea steeping in a pot between us.
Vivith had pulled up a hidden panel in the middle of the table, and a shimmering blue display hovered in the air.
They sat, spindly legs jutting up, one long arm holding their knees as they flicked at a wristband, pulling up text I was too bleary to focus on.
Araxis had pushed our cushions next to one another, so that when I sat down, I was pressed against him.
He curled one arm around my lower back, holding me tight, and then he told Vivith what I had shared.
They seemed unbothered by Araxis's quiet declaration that he would settle the debt claim against me. I'd already sent it to him, and though he had blinked several times when he saw the total, his resolve hadn't faltered.
I remembered that I had mused that one of the ways out of this shit situation might be if some rich alien found me impressive enough to buy out my debt and add me to some sexy space menagerie.
What, exactly, I might owe Araxis after this – if he somehow managed to be successful and I managed to survive – was beyond the ability for my brain to process at the moment.
I was scraped raw, dizzy, and it was only his arm holding me that gave me any sense of stability at all.
Vivith flicked their spindly hand above their wrist, and the display in the middle of the table flashed with columns of numbers.
"Alliances in the arena are not unheard of: you will see they slightly better the odds for the top-ranked competitor.
Though," they tapped their wrist again, "in these instances they ended in betrayal, and in these –" several numbers flared green, "the competitors ended up killing each other.
Viewing numbers are particularly strong when there is an alliance.
" They said it with the weight of significance.
My head was tucked against Araxis's shoulder, resting. "Why does that matter?"
"Did you read your contract?" Vivith sniped. "Or is reading beyond your capabilities?"
"Stop," Araxis said, sharp, and his creche-mate huffed out a fluting breath and looked back to their wrist. He shifted, hand stroking my back.
"Each participant receives residuals based on their engagement numbers and, if they win, a portion of the legally placed bets.
It is part of the contract negotiations. "
I hadn't done any negotiation. I'd just asked Alet Trident to take care of it, and she had. I straightened as Vivith and Araxis continued to review numbers and stipulations about preparation for the Tournament, rifling through my own files until I found the copy of my Tournament contract.
I wasn't particularly surprised when I got to the part about residuals and found that Alet Trident had stipulated that any additional revenue was to be assigned to her den. She was the beneficiary.
I snapped the contract shut. Vivith and Araxis were deep in their own copy of the hefty conglomerate contract, picking apart exactly what was considered permissible past contact for the two of us.
I forced myself to pay attention: this was important.
If Araxis was going to help me – if he was going to do all of this for me – then I needed to make sure I was an asset in the arena and in the lead-up.
We couldn't have an alliance going in, that much was clear. The rules around preexisting alliances had been set in place after a series of biryat mercenaries coordinated to enter separately and then cut a bloody swath to the prize, although they’d turned on each other in the end so it had still been a net win for broadcast numbers.
The conglomerate now screened applicants to assure that they didn’t have any prior relationships that would interfere with the competition.
While sometimes competitors would join once they’d heard who else had entered – like a voltaari cultist entering when they’d heard an acolyte from a rival cult would be participating; voltaari cultists did love their blood feuds – Vivith was pretty sure ‘he just needed a ride to the area’ wasn’t going to pass muster.
While we were in a bit of a gray area, timeline- and relationship-wise, we all agreed it was better to err on the side of caution, which meant we definitely couldn't arrive together.
"Alright," I said finally, rubbing at my eyes wearily. "So we arrive separately and pretend we're strangers and over the twelve days leading up to the Tournament's start, we – what? Suddenly decide we're going to help each other out?"