Cleo
CLEO
Maxym looks smug at his suggestion. My heart twists in my chest. After all, he’s just been both boorish and then incredibly kind.
I don’t know what to do. Every option open to me leads somewhere I can’t control the outcome, and I’m so, so tired of it.
“Okay,” I say. “Show me the dome.”
His feathers prick briefly, almost as if he wasn’t expecting my response, despite his confident exterior.
A tour of the dome, while not exactly my thing, is a distraction I need.
“This way.” He offers me his hand, an old-fashioned gesture I appreciate.
I take it, and he leads me out of the armory, turning right rather than left as we have done before. We make our way through the maze-like structure, occasionally encountering an Oykig or Zarvu, both of whom give us a curious look, but put their heads down and keep on going.
Each time I look at Maxym, he’s entirely impassive, which makes me think he’s on his best behavior.
The interior of the passages changes from scuffed and utilitarian to soft flooring underfoot, mood lighting and color changing walls. I’m steered to the right by him, and almost without warning, we push through a set of double doors into the vast arena, covered by the dome.
We’re about halfway up the stands, I guess, and yet the roof is still way, way above us. I see something which looks like a cloud over the other side, and as we watch, a flock of brightly colored podis flap past. I’ve seen the creatures outside the dome, a cross between a bat and a bird, but seeing them inside this structure brings home just how big it is.
Beside me, Maxym shifts his wings, all of his being concentrated on the little podis, eyes filled with interest.
“Do you…get to fly in here?” I ask him.
“It’s the only place I can fly.” He releases my hand to hike up his pants. Around his right leg is something which looks like a tattoo, only raised. “Tracker. If I attempt to lift off the ground outside of the dome, it will bring me down,” he adds darkly.
“But you are allowed to leave, sometimes?”
“I get the occasional pass.” He shrugs. “If the procurator thinks I’ve done well and I haven’t…” He pauses while he searches for the words. “Done other things.”
“What happens if you fly now, from here?” I gaze out at the arena, imagining Maxym in the air.
“Forcefield. I’d get fried.” He chuckles, pointing at a slight shimmer in the light.
I bat him on his arm, unable to stop my own laughter.
“But if you want me to.” He opens his great wings and stretches one out, inspecting the length.
“No!” I grab for him, burying my hands deep within the feathers until I feel the heat of his skin. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
A strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close against his hard body.
“If you keep touching me like that, I will burn down the dome, the galaxy, the universe for you,” Maxym murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.
I dig my fingers deeper into his feathers and actually feel his knees dip. Could it be this is the way to tame a Gryn, even one as feral as Maxym?
He rumbles something which might be my name, his hand spanning my waist and his eyes completely closed as my fingers trip through the soft down I can feel next to his warm body at the base of his wings.
Somewhere far below, there is a sharp crack. His eyes open, and he snarls, pushing me behind him as he glares into the arena for the offending noise.
“We should go,” he says, suddenly all business. “They’re preparing the arena for the games tomorrow, and it won’t be good for our health to stay.”
I remember the conversations he had with Klynn about the upcoming matches. He is a veteran of this temple to violence, even if he doesn’t worship here.
“Perhaps we could eat?” I suggest.
My appetite is probably the only thing which has improved in the recent weeks. I find I’m hungry all the time and this is no exception.
The smile which spreads over Maxym’s face is the most genuine one I think I’ve seen on him.
“If that’s what my mate…I mean, my , wants, then that is what she will have.”
I’m herded by a huge wing away from the arena and back into the network of passages.
“How do you know your way around?” I grumble as we turn into yet another identical one.
“I’ve been here a long time,” Maxym says as we turn left and I suddenly recognize where we are, outside the dining area from yesterday.
I take a seat with a sigh of relief as Maxym goes, again, to get us some food. Klynn is lounging in one corner of the huge hall which is otherwise empty, picking at food on a platter. He avoids my gaze.
We eat and chat. Maxym, when he’s not doing the whole growly, brooding thing, is funny and sweet. He tells me about their rations, their training regimen, about his former colleagues who have left and whom I think he misses.
When the time finally comes, I feel like I’m dragging myself back to the armory because it means while I’m spending time with him, I can’t spend time with him due to the constant comings and goings of other gladiators, guards, challengers and clerks. And as is always the case with time, the nova-afternoon flies past, and before long, I’m done.
Klynn disappears just like he did before, leaving me to lock up the weapons which will be staying in the dome and clearing up those which will go back to Retah.
“I have to check the remainder,” I say to Maxym. “The ones which will be”—I check my vid screen—“available for the arena?”
“Those are the ones the challengers can pay extra to have available for them during their bouts,” Maxym says. “We’ll need to go to the ante-chamber.”
“Oh.” I check my screen again. “I’m to check those tomorrow, not today.”
“You’re going to be here, for the games?” Maxym growls.
“Looks like I don’t have any choice.”