Chapter Six #3
For an embarrassing moment, Kai balked, distracted by the intensity in River’s eyes, the chilled concentration – and then he saw the blur of River’s palm, angled straight for his nose.
He fell back, sending out ice like panes of cut glass; River deflected some but not all, grimacing as one sliced his cheek, another, his shoulder.
A blur of movement, a strike, a pulse throbbing in Kai’s temple.
Something hot and wet stung his eye, but Kai revelled in the thrill of it all and reared back like a snake, relishing the blunt, stabbing punches, the satisfying sensation of his knee digging under River’s ribcage.
The hatred in River’s eyes, the taste of blood. It was all just as he had hoped.
Better.
He wasn’t in a sunny courtyard on Oseidos. He was below deck on the Cetos, listening to drunken cheers and the sounds of coins hitting the floorboards.
Reality rushed back in when River charged one last time, evading Kai’s foot and jamming his fingers into the base of Kai’s throat.
Kai was on the ground before he knew it, coughing, his throat on fire; River loomed over him, straddling his hips and holding him down by his neck, blood dripping from his cheek onto Kai’s once-white shirt.
“Fucking lunatic,” River mustered in between breaths.
Despite his flagging energy, Kai struggled, but a glint of silver gave him pause. A knife – his knife, which he usually kept sheathed behind him to be used as a last resort. Kai stared up at it, bewildered, fighting to catch his breath.
“What,” Kai managed eventually, “You’re gonna kill me?”
“Or give you tetanus.” He sighed. He looked like a tired parent. “Saros will deal with you, and gods willing, he’ll see you for what you are after this.”
The world returned bit by bit. Voices surrounded them like the susurration of flies, guards and lower priests come to gawk; Ione, distantly, Go on, River, you don’t need my permission.
Kai wasn’t sure if it was the fatigue or if he really was losing it, but he laughed, struck suddenly by how funny it all was.
River, bleeding on him, beginning to look a little unsettled; Goddess Apparent huffing and asking somebody to please just go ahead and kill him; Cynthia and Lina chiding her, telling her not to borrow more trouble.
“Sorry.” Kai patted River’s thigh. “I’m just brought back to a gunner I knew from the Leviathos. Real mean bastard, especially in bed.”
River scowled. “You really are insane,” he breathed, like it was amazing.
“Swords, please, I can only get so hard – Easy!” Kai tipped his head back, metal biting into the rapid-fire pulse in his throat. “Easy, easy. You win, Swordeen. You’re stronger, smarter, and funnier. And taller, but that went without saying, sure.”
He caught the hint of a reluctant smile on River’s lips and grinned, tasting his own blood smearing onto his teeth. He really could get anyone to crack.
“But,” Kai added, jutting his chin. “There’s one thing I’ve got on you.”
The whispers around them quickened, warning drones; it was Ione who shouted, “Warden, don’t you dare.”
Not even Menon’s Supposed Chosen could melt the thousand needle-sharp icicles hanging over River, each of their points aimed at his back. It was overkill for a single mundane man, but River deserved the best.
Keeping the knife braced against Kai’s throat, River stared silently up at them for a moment, tensing despite the look of forced calm on his face.
And then, bored as ever, “Do it, then.”
Kai’s smile flatlined. Of course the prick would call his bluff.
The thud of a wooden door swinging open startled Kai into letting go of the ice; it melted in a slushy heap over himself and River both, making them sputter and curse. Saros’s voice followed, loud enough to startle them a second time: “River, off.”
At once River stood, tossing the knife onto Kai’s stomach before clasping his hands behind his back like a toy soldier.
“For gods’ sakes,” Saros hissed, storming through with Ione’s healer Mikau and their new assistant, some redheaded Caelosi; with a slash of his arm, Saros evaporated the water off of them.
“Well?” Saros bellowed at everyone else as Mikau saw to River’s cuts.
“You all may leave, the lot of you, and my thanks for putting an end to this nonsense.”
Sheepishly, the gaggle of guards and other onlookers dispersed; even Ione was led away, with some difficulty, by Cynthia and Lina. Kai sat up, groaning, dimly glad that there would be few witnesses to his verbal mauling.
But unexpectedly, it was River who shouldered the blame.
“River Fontaine,” Saros hissed at him while Mikau moved onto the gash in Kai’s temple, “You know how important this is. You don’t like him – fine. But Ione needs this training, and I need you to stay out of the way.”
After a pause, River murmured, “Understood.”
“You don’t, clearly!” Saros flared. “If you did, you wouldn’t be picking fights!”
Again, quietly, “Understood. I’m sorry.”
“Actually, Archpriest Saros,” Kai said without thinking, his stomach flipping when both Saros and River turned to him. He waved Mikau and Assistant off of him and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “This was, uh, a training exercise.”
It was amazing what sorts of things a blow to the head could get one to say. But that wasn’t even a lie, he thought, comforted. It was all in the name of training, wasn’t it?
“A training exercise,” Saros repeated, sceptical.
“You attacked Her Hol – ” River’s gaze flitted to Mikau’s assistant. “Ione,” he amended.
Right, the whole goddess farce was a secret.
Kai sent him a look that he hoped said I’m trying to be nice, you dick.
“‘Attack’ is a bit strong, but she did hold a phenomenal shield. And Greased Lightning here stole my knife right out of my back pocket without me noticing.” He stood back, palms up, the picture of trustworthy.
“After these past few weeks of practice, I wanted to test them both, and both of them have impressed me thoroughly.”
Less impressed was River, who looked like he wanted to strangle something.
Saros sighed. “Son,” he said wearily, “I am well aware of the… dynamics between our Ione and yourself – ”
“Teething issues.” Kai waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve come to an understanding now. And Swords here loves me.”
“Kai.” Mikau laid a steady hand on Kai’s shoulder and turned him to face them. They held up three fingers. “How many – ”
“I’m not concussed, Mikau, g’way.”
Their assistant, notebook in hand, scribbled something. “Name and date of birth? Can you spell world backwards for me?”
“Arright, Red. S-u-c-k, space, m-y – ”
Mikau shut him up with a look. “It’s fine, Ami,” they whispered to their assistant, all protective. And to Kai, “You’re sleeping better, I gather?”
“Sure, loads better.” Kai summoned the smile he reserved for Saros, self-assured and bright, if tinged with blood.
“Passionflower tea, remember? Knocks me right out, almost as well as Swords just did.” Never mind that it tasted like pennies and dusty flowers and did nothing for the nightmares.
Kai only drank it when he was desperate.
“I appreciate your… fervour,” Saros said gradually. “But I won’t tolerate any more senseless brawling. It’s uncouth and unbecoming of the warden I hired you to be.”
Message received. Kai saluted him, not missing River’s indignant little glare. “Not to worry, Your Beatitude.” He widened his smile, although he felt somewhat chilled. Disoriented. Maybe he was concussed; maybe he would drink Saros’s tea later. He’d need the sleep after today.
“Now that I know what makes Ione tick,” he finished grandly, “I’ll have her flooding cities by the end of summer.”