Chapter Seventeen
Elaina
The buzz lingering beneath my skin had eased enough that I could almost pretend the previous evening hadn't happened.
Almost.
Every time Drazien's hand brushed mine or he looked at me for a heartbeat too long, my face threatened to warm all over again. Worse, my body remembered exactly how it had felt to have his mouth on me, and I found myself studying entirely inappropriate things while he braided his hair that morning.
His hands.
The muscles moving beneath the dark skin of his back.
The long tail that somehow ended up inside me once more while I slept.
I looked away before he caught me staring, trying to get my thoughts under control before I gave myself away.
“You’re unusually quiet.”
I hummed, trying to come up with an excuse that might be believable.
“Just thinking.”
He arched a brow, his lips twitching.
“I was too.”
I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping his sense of smell wasn’t good enough to detect the direction my thoughts had gone from where I sat across the room.
“Somehow I doubt we were thinking about the same thing.”
His expression shifted and a shiver skated down my spine. I knew I was wrong, even if he wasn’t going to call me on it.
“Perhaps.”
Heat crept into my cheeks, and I resisted the urge to growl. Infuriating male, I’d never had the urge before the injection, but somehow it felt right to let the sound out whenever he frustrated me.
He finished tying off his braid before reaching for his weapons. Unlike yesterday, he buckled on a pair of curved blades before slipping a longer knife through the sash at his waist.
I eyed him, my stomach twisting.
“Are we expecting trouble?”
For once, his expression seemed serious, and for a moment worry chewed at my gut.
“No.”
He didn’t offer anything more, but I wasn’t willing to drop it. He’d never openly worn weapons before, even if I knew he always had a blade tucked in his boot.
“Then why the swords?”
“It would be foolish to go unarmed during Khavren. Khorr represents might and power. Many alphas test their strength at this time.”
I blinked, trying to make sense of what he was telling me. I knew the Morrak were warriors and placed a lot of weight on their rank, but he made it sound as if there would be brawls in the streets.
My confusion must have shown because his grin grew sharper, and he closed the distance between us. Taking hold of my chin, he tipped my head back.
“You need to understand how Morraki fight.”
The nearness of his lips was enough to distract me from my worry. I’d decided to give in to the attraction between us, telling myself it was harmless to enjoy myself while I was here, but I hadn’t planned for it to grow instead of calming once I scratched the itch.
“Today, you will.”
His lips covered mine, tongue entering my mouth the second I opened for him, then he was releasing me and pulling away, that infuriating smirk on his sinful lips.
“Come, rethari.”
If only he knew how easy it would be for me to follow that command in a different way.
I tried to quell my libido as he led me toward the ravine. The walk reminded me just how immense Korvashan truly was, and how little I’d seen of it.
The lower levels seemed peaceful. They were alive with community in a way I wasn’t sure Earth had ever been, yet the closer you came to the surface, the more you were reminded of Morrakan’s powerful culture.
Warriors moved through the High Ledge with determined strides, many carrying bundles of crimson banners or lengths of polished metal that caught the light shining through the crystals once more.
Khavren.
The Festival of Flame.
The preparations had intensified overnight, and everywhere I looked, there was a reminder that this was a special time. Throbbing music echoed through the tunnels, crimson banners covered the stone, and little braziers danced with flames of varied colors.
For the first time, I spotted children amongst the adults. Dressed in bright colors, their kethra less steady, they caught the eye even amongst so many decorations.
When we approached the ravine, the wind whipping through it caught the loose strands of my hair, tugging more free from the braid resting over my shoulder.
I carried the thavren Drazien had handed me before we left his home, but the moment he noticed my struggle to contain the curly strands, he tugged it from my hand and wrapped it over my hair, keeping my face free.
“The wind will ease as Vorrashan rises, but you will still need this.”
I fought the smile that wanted to pull on my lips. For someone who teased mercilessly and acted so tough, he was getting worse at pretending he didn’t care.
That thought made me swallow, and I turned my gaze away from him. Irritating him was entertaining, but it was getting harder to deny I actually liked him.
He led me beyond the stairway to the surface, along a broad path that followed the ravine edge. The view was still breathtaking, the stark beauty of it something I could stare at for days and still find something new.
We continued on towards the sound of voices that grew louder until I would have had to yell to be heard over them. The path had split, narrowing down until there was only enough room for the two of us to pass side by side as we climbed a short set of stairs.
When we emerged at the top, I was stunned by what reminded me of the old gladiator arenas in ancient Rome. Tier after tier of stone levels surrounded a sunken fighting pit filled with sand. Hundreds of Morraki already crowded the stands with more arriving, and the atmosphere was one of excitement.
There was a scent in the air that tugged at me, telling me I knew it even though I couldn’t place it, but I couldn’t focus as Drazien dragged me along until we found enough space at the railing to stand.
“This is Veyr'vokkar.”
I knew veyr. Blood was a common word in Morraki, and I stared down into the arena below us as the gates at each end rose.
“Warriors enter to prove themselves against each other.”
I frowned at the naked bodies striding into the arena. Both seemed younger than Drazien, less scarred, but neither looked as if they were being forced.
“Why?”
Drazien lifted one shoulder and let it drop as a deep horn echoed through the stone around us. The conversations grew quieter for a moment as the warriors began to circle, but the moment they lunged towards each other the noise tripled.
“For many reasons. To repent. To regain honor. To show their abilities.”
The speed of the combatants stole my breath.
There was no moment when they were motionless, colliding hard enough that I could hear the fleshy impacts from where we stood.
The larger of the two drove the other backward with a brutal elbow that would have ended most human fights, but instead of falling, his opponent rolled with the blow, catching the larger male's arm and twisting.
It wasn’t long before blood and sand coated both Morraki, but neither backed down. While initially the crowd seemed to be cheering for the sheer violence of it, I began to notice they were studying the movements of the two males, commenting on their strategies and strikes.
The longer I watched, the more it seemed like a show. Like the movements were coordinated, rehearsed, until the smaller one slipped his tail under the other’s guard and stabbed beneath his ribs.
I flinched as blood splattered the sand, but Drazien didn't move. The injured fighter pressed on his wound before dropping into a ready stance once more, grinning at the male circling him.
I didn’t understand at first, thinking the Morraki simply crazy, until I realized he wasn't smiling because he'd been hurt or because he was planning revenge. He was smiling because he was enjoying being matched against someone who was holding his own against him.
The fight became even faster, more violent, and yet I could see the discipline and planning in it. When one competitor slipped, the other didn't exploit it with a cheap strike. He stepped back, allowed him to regain his footing, and only then attacked again.
“He could have ended it.”
Drazien nodded at my observation, still watching the warriors.
“Many times.”
Frowning, I looked between the combatants before turning to him.
“Why didn't he?”
Dark eyes met mine, pupils narrowed against the sunlight pouring in the open roof of the arena. The red light cast a purple sheen over his skin that matched his kethra, even making his eyes seem more violet than blue.
“Because the purpose is not victory.”
His answer caught me by surprise, and I looked into the arena again.
“Then what are they doing?”
Drazien’s smile wasn’t mocking as he watched the males rolling through the sand, grappling.
“Revealing weaknesses and destroying them.”
I shook my head, still not grasping what he meant.
“In who?”
Quirking a brow, he gestured as the injured warrior landed his own jab to the smaller Morraki’s thigh.
“In both. They are thyrran. I believe your people call them… battle buddies.”
The answer made me look at the men closer. Neither seemed angry or fought like someone with a grudge. Every movement looked calculated.
“They're testing each other.”
Drazien nodded, the smile he aimed at me making my chest warm.
“Correct.”
The realization let another piece click into place. A soldier’s unit knew them better than most, which meant knowing their weaknesses as well as their strengths. They would be the best people to push them to be better.
“Then the winner isn't the one who survives the longest?”
Straightening from where he’d been leaning on the railing, Drazien pulled me against his side with his tail.
“No. It’s who learns the most.”
I watched another flurry of attacks. One competitor swung high and the other adjusted, and then the pattern changed. He was making the other focus and not grow complacent in his defense.
“It’s about strategy.”