Chapter 26
For The Love of The Commoners
Pesh struggles for breath as the blue serum dries up his neck.
His body jerks. He tries to fight it. He screams, “Shantavia!” my Pesh says my name, weak, out of breath, helpless.
“That’s right, she’s right there,” Londe taunts.
I struggle against the guards who are holding me, trying to release myself. With every ounce of my strength, I try. With every breath in my lungs, I try. With everything I have, I am trying. But I cannot break free. I am trying… and my Pesh is dying.
I try to scream, but it just escapes like mumbles. Just as I stomp on a guard, still trying to break free, Patron De Londe signals for them to remove the tie from my mouth.
As soon as they remove it, words crash out, wave by wave. “Pesh! I’m so sorry! I love you! I’m so sorry!” I scream. I do not know what to say. I just want him to know that I love him. I wish… tears drip down my face… I wish I can take away the pain. I wish…
I squirm, fighting their grip and struggling to free myself, but I am trapped. My bones recoil and anger rages through me as Patron De Londe suddenly stands, approaching me like a snake. I seeth, my gaze clashing into his like a fire as he slides a snake-like dagger to my neck.
I don’t move an inch. I do not want to be killed.
I do not want Pesh to go through the pain of watching me suffer, of watching me die.
I do not want to die, but I am not afraid of Londe.
I am afraid of what he will do to the one I love.
I despise everything he represents. Yet, I am not afraid of him.
I am not afraid of his dagger. I am not afraid of death.
I am afraid of losing Pesh. And Pesh is afraid for me.
Pesh moves on the floor instantly, struggling to speak. “I’ll... Tell… You… Please... Please... Don’t hurt... Her.”
Patron De Londe smiles, then drops the dagger. I watch him meticulously, looking for any blind spots to make a move, monitoring everything.
He bends, facing Pesh. “What was that I heard, Son? Was that the sweet sound of surrender? It seems so. And who has the backup files?” Londe asks.
I stare at the dagger Londe dropped. I look right, then left.
I flip the dagger with my feet, and it strikes one of the guards holding me on his foot.
He screams, falling to the floor as I pull myself out of the hold of the second guard—and flip the table with my legs to hit him.
He also falls, and I run to the dagger, trying to cut the tie on my hands with my legs as support.
Hands trembling, I nearly graze my hands as I notice Patron De Londe looking toward my direction, infuriated.
Suddenly, Beatrice walks in with two long sticks. Crap! Before I can get free, she hits me from the back.
“Arghhhh!” I fall to the ground.
Oh, how I despise this woman.
She lifts her stick to hit me again, swinging to crush my skull. Crap! I roll just in time, tumbling to the ground as the stick strikes the ground, mere inches from my head. Dust erupts from the ground as I lunge up in pain to see her snarling, flying toward me like a beast. Bloody woman!
I move quickly as Pesh’s words echo in my mind, you fall way too easily. I know I can’t afford to do that here. I cannot afford to fall.
I flex my right thigh just before pushing off, striking a controlled kick to her jaw. That was quite satisfying, actually.
But she gets up instantly.
My heel flies to her face again. And just as she stumbles, eyes widening like a demon in a trance, my eyes dart to the dagger on the floor in the same beat as her.
I’m getting that!
Hargh! We both break into a violent surge for the weapon. She dives forward frantically, her elbow moving to jab me, to shove me to the ground. Not happening. I dive down to the floor in a flash. “You have had me for the wrong girl.”
My tied fingers lightly graze the weapon as I slide it to my feet, kicking the dagger to slash her fingers in the same instant!
“You little deviant!” she snarls, hurling her hands to punch me.
“Say it again.” I kick the dagger up with my feet, and it slashes her brachium this time.
That was quite a nice aim.
She winces and lets out a guttural roar. A second later, she slams into the ground, squealing the moment she hits the floor. Perfect. I bolt, hurrying to grab the dagger on the floor.
Just as I do, my eyes shoot up to see she is already getting up, crawling against the hard floor. This bloody woman. I angle the blade, trying to cut off this nasty tie on my wrist. But it’s stubborn!
“No!” She seethes in realization, licking the blood gushing out her fingers.
Heart pounding, I avert my gaze from the weirdo, trying to angle the blade toward the tie again, but the cord resists—only scraping a little. What kind of tie is this?
I keep cutting, getting more frantic, trying to angle better as Beatrice now rises fully. And just as my movement falters, I hear Pesh whisper, “You got this.”
My eyes shoot to him instantly.
“You got this,” he whispers again, gripping his throat, still trying to help me through unimaginable pain.
Oh my God. I need to get to him! And this demon is right in front me.
I can feel her, hear her breath. She’s close enough to kill me.
Crap! I quicken my pace, cutting desperately.
And just as she flies a kick to my head, the bind suddenly releases, and my hands break free.
I duck just in time, anticipating that stupid common move.
The escape throws her off balance, and she topples to the floor. Her eyes flare, and she snatches that monstrous stick of hers again, rising back to her feet, and in a blink, she flies it toward my... my stomach?
Oh no! I panic. Flex. Flex. Flex. Before I can escape, the impact hits me, and a scream rips through my throat.
I growl, gripping my stomach, eyes flying up to see Patron De Londe violently kicking Pesh on the stomach. I hear Pesh’s strained groan as he grips the cold floor in excruciating pain.
“Pesh!” I scream, my eyes colliding with his. No, no, no.
Before I can steady myself, she towers over me and seizes my face. I glare up at her, sweat stinging every part of me. She smiles like it’s already over as she closes in to kill me.
Over my dead body.
Before she can twist my neck or something more animalistic, my hands slide to the dagger beside me.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
The blade rips through her skin, grazing her stomach, slicing her arms, and who knows where else. I continue to slash any and everywhere, sending her screaming as blood gushes down her body.
Using this opportunity, I wrench the stick from her grasp, disarming her before the pain subsides.
In haste, I turn to check on Pesh. And he seems to be getting worse. I can see the life draining from his face—his eyes turning blue.
In excruciating, inexpressible pain, I hear him whisper, “…That’s… my… girl…”
I realize he is on the verge of giving up. I can’t let that happen.
I need to finish this fast! I dash forward, but I don’t swing for Beatrice—no. I swing her stick to one of the chandelier lights above.
Crack!
The glass breaks in a burst of sparks, plunging down on Beatrice, toppling her, shards of glass flying in the atmosphere.
Oh God, that took forever.
Alarmed, Patron De Londe stands up. I wait. And just as his gaze shifts toward her, I secretly slide the dagger next to the elevators—within Pesh’s reach.
I hope Pesh saw me do it, but I’m not sure. I look behind to see that Beatrice has passed out from the glass that hit her.
Suddenly, Londe turns to me and his eyes light up like fire.
“Oh, Shantavia, you really think you can defeat me? See, you would have been the perfect Patron had you not done that meaningless act of sacrifice in the Meaning Test. Patrons don’t sacrifice themselves.
They sacrifice other people for themselves.
That’s why I’m so surprised at Pesh, to be honest. I’m not actually!
” He laughs in a patronizing voice, taking a step toward me with each word.
“He’s just like his mother! Everything that repulses me, but the thing is, the savior just ends up getting killed in the end.”
My face growls, indignant. “We’ll see about that.”
Suddenly, I notice Shay and Patron Brik walking toward me from the elevators. Is that a sword in Shay’s hands? I avert my gaze to Patron Brik, who seems to have a bandage around one of his eyes. I wonder who did that to him? I see him tighten his fists as Shay’s darting eyes glare at me with fury.
Before my gaze can leave Shay, Brik charges at me. And I charge back. Pesh gave me the rundown of this idiot’s potential moves last night.
I fight Brik ruthlessly. I am not playing games. I fight with all the rules Pesh taught me. I jab, kick, slide. And within minutes, I defeat Patron Brik.
“Where are the backup copies, Pesh!?” Patron De Londe barks, torturing him.
As I am about to turn from Brik, Shay comes from my blind spot, pointing his sword to my neck. Argh!
“She’ll die in three seconds,” Londe threatens.
Urgh! I know I should be worried, but all I can think of is Pesh, not of my own life.
In this moment, all I can think of is how to save him. But he, just like me, is ready to die for me as long as he is sure of my survival.
“I... Can... Tell... You...” Pesh struggles to speak, grabbing the floor.
Patron De Londe signals for Shay to wait.
Pesh inches closer to Patron De Londe, muscles shaking. “It’s with Doctor Val.”
In shock, Patron De Londe gasps. “Doctor Val?”
“Seems you’re not the only one with spies,” Pesh whispers.
Subtly, unbeknownst to Londe, Pesh grabs the dagger I slid behind the elevators. Just as he aims, Londe turns, his veins catching fire, looking down to see—it.
The dagger. In Pesh’s hands.
Enraged, his eyes fly up to Pesh’s burning glare, his bones contracting to attack.
Too late.