Chapter 7
seven
Fire Without Smoke
Miralyte
"I'm telling you, Pelbie, it was nothing to fret about. Just dinner. We ate and drank. And that is all."
Pelbie shook her head. "You must be lying. There's no way it was as simple as that. They must have told you something."
I looked around to ensure nobody was close enough to overhear.
The Dining Hall was bustling with people.
The fae servants stood against the dark blue walls, wearing uniforms of bright silk that shimmered in the low light.
Their presence reminded me that I was, indeed, still very much in enemy territory.
"Nope. Nothing. Complete waste of time."
"Hardly." Pelbie crossed her arms. "You aren't acting like it's nothing. I know you well enough to know when something is amiss."
It was true. As an empath, Pelbie could literally feel the emotional states and physical responses of others.
While it was an admirable and useful skill, it also often proved to be irritating, especially in moments like this one.
I took another bite of a soft, yellow fruit called an ancient star. "They just wanted to... apologize," I said. "And offer me some food. That's all."
It wasn't technically a lie. But I knew Pelbie would see right through it.
"Apologize?" Pelbie asked, arching an eyebrow. "The Warlord? I can't imagine him ever apologizing for anything. It's not in his nature."
I shrugged, and tried to keep my expression neutral. "Well, he did. So there you have it."
Pelbie shook her head again, her mouth set in a firm line. "I don't believe it. What else happened?"
"I’ve already told you everything," I said, picking at the rind of the ancient star. "Now it’s your turn. How was training with Brond?"
Her mouth opened like she still wanted to press me, but then her posture changed. A faint flush crept across her cheeks. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
"It was fine," she said quickly. A little too quickly. “We ran some formations. Nothing worth reporting.”
"Uh-huh. Nothing worth reporting, but you’re blushing like he asked you to marry him."
"I am not blushing."
"You absolutely are."
She grabbed her cup just to have something to hold, staring into it like the answers might be hiding at the bottom.
“He’s just... respectful. Polite. Strong.
Smart. Kind of funny, actually." She traced her finger along the rim of her goblet, suddenly shy.
"And really handsome, when he lets his hair down and gets all sweaty and—"
"Pelbie," I interrupted.
"Yes, oh dear." She looked up with a sheepish grin. "Maybe I am a bit infatuated with him."
"Ha." I winked. "It's been a while since I've seen you in such a state."
"Stop teasing me." She giggled. "It's not as though it would ever lead anywhere. The Vessel system here isn't designed to bring people together, after all. Besides, you know how strictly they enforce the 'No Fraternizing' rule."
"Nothing that will get anyone pregnant," I finished, nodding.
She chuckled and shook her head, eyes falling back to her goblet.
Suddenly, the doors to the Dining Hall swung open, and Terys burst into the room. His tunic was now torn and stained with what looked like blood.
He strode across the hall, boots striking the stone floor with an echo that made the lightning veins in the walls shudder and spark. He made his way towards the long black table where I sat with Pelbie.
"Good morning, lovely ladies!" Terys beamed. "Did you sleep well?"
"Good morning, Terys," Pelbie replied. "We did. Thank you."
He sat down across from me at the table, plucked a grape from the platter and popped it into his mouth like he owned the room.
“So,” he said, dragging the word out, eyes gleaming, “you’re alive.”
He raised both eyebrows, glancing expectantly at me. I frowned back, then continued to eat my fruit, chewing slowly. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of responding.
“We all thought you died, you know." He leaned forward, elbows on the table, the grin never quite meeting his eyes. “Some of us even placed bets.”
I kept chewing, and stared hard at him. I was in no mood to play his game. So I didn't.
Pelbie stiffened beside me. Brond wasn't here to save us this time. "Stop it, Terys. There's no need for such childish behavior."
“Oh, come on,” Terys said sweetly. “I’m congratulating her. After all, it takes a certain kind of talent to survive the Warlord. Don't you agree, Miralyte?"
I continued to stare at him, still chewing slowly.
"Don't you?" His grin had grown impossibly wide.
Terys leaned back, arms spread wide like he was basking in sunshine. “You must’ve done something special. I mean, not every rookie gets dragged out of the arena half-dead and ends up dining with Lord Zydar a few nights later.”
How could he possibly know that?
A million retorts danced on the tip of my tongue. The urge to wipe the self satisfied grin off his face was nearly overwhelming. But I merely took a deep breath and continued to chew my food. He wasn’t worth getting into a fight over.
"Leave her be." Pelbie hissed at him.
“Don’t worry, Pelbs. I’m not judging. If I’d known all it took was a little whimpering and a well-placed bruise, I’d have played damsel, too.”
Something that was dangerously close to a growl rumbled low in my chest and I stood, pushing the bench back with enough force to tip it over.
“Tell me,” he said softly, mockingly, “does he make you call him 'my lord' when you beg him to fu—"
Before he could get the words out, my fist slammed into his face. His nose crumpled with a satisfying crunch as blood spurted from the nostrils and flowed into his teeth.
For a moment, everything seemed to freeze.
Then, with a howl of pain, he stumbled backward, hands flying to cover his face. "You whore! That's it. You're dead."
With a deep, feral growl, he launched himself toward me. Even in pain, he was shockingly fast. But despite his brutish size, he was clumsy, and I easily dodged his swing.
The boy let loose a curse and swung his other fist. This time it clipped my shoulder, hard. A flash of heat flared from the point of impact, spreading across the flesh in an instant. And though it was a small strike, it was still a powerful one.
This kid was strong. Like, supernaturally strong.
Ignoring the urge to grab the spot and squeeze away the deep ache, I backed up a step. He was almost six inches taller and much larger than me. So, in order to succeed against such an opponent, I would need to use his strength and height against him.
My eyes darted around, looking for anything I could use.
And as if sensing my intention, Terys closed the gap between us with one giant step and threw his massive arm toward my face.
I sidestepped the punch at the last minute and saw the fist glance off the wall to my left with a crack.
The lightning veins flared and flashed angrily, as though offended at the insult.
He lunged again, and this time I ducked beneath his arm. It missed me by inches. As the blow whistled past my face, I could feel the displaced air wash across my skin in a cool rush.
The kid growled and charged me, head down. It was like trying to avoid being hit by a bull, one with murder in its eyes.
"Hold still," he roared, "or I swear I'll—"
I didn't give him a chance to finish. Instead, I took a half step to the left, turning the dodge into a spin.
As my body swiveled, I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, using them as leverage to heave myself into the air and behind him. My leg hooked under his armpit, and with a grunt, I used the momentum to slam him to the ground.
He didn't know what hit him. And though the move had looked effortless, it was anything but. I had spent years honing and perfecting that particular maneuver.
Still, I wasn't even close to being finished.
Before the boy had a chance to react, I wrapped my legs around his neck, anchoring my ankles together. Once secured, I used my arms to apply pressure, crushing his head between my thighs. The brute thrashed wildly beneath me, arms and legs flailing like a stuck fish. He couldn't escape.
"Mira! Enough!" Pelbie's voice cut through the din. "You'll kill him!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, I released the pressure and released Terys. I got up and walked towards the dining table and picked up a wooden pitcher and glass. I poured myself some water and drank it, calming down.
The cool water slid down my throat like relief made liquid.
My hands were still trembling, but I wrapped my fingers tighter around the glass, forcing steadiness.
Around me, the hall buzzed again with faint thunder, the murmurs of other Vessels mixing with the hum of the storm-slick walls.
I didn’t look at him—Terys. I could feel his humiliation behind me, boiling and twitching under his skin like a parasite.
One sip. Two.
A third never reached my lips.
A sharp glint in my periphery, a whisper of movement too fast for sound. That was all the warning I had before Terys lunged at me, a fork clutched in his hand like a dagger.
"Mira, watch out!"
I turned just as the prongs neared my neck, close enough to feel the air bend around them.
And then—nothing.
Gone.
The fork vanished mid-air like it had never existed.
One moment the dining hall was laden with bowls of black bread, steaming meats, salted blue fruits and ancient stars, plates etched with runes and overflowing with spiced roots—and the next, empty.
Swallowing a curse, Terys leapt forward. His hand fisted in my collar from behind and slammed me face-first into the now-barren table. Stars erupted in my vision, nearly as bright and blinding as those on the wall, and I felt blood pour from my nose, flowing warm and thick into my mouth.
Move, my brain screamed. Now.
But Terys was already dragging me back, muscles like steel cords, breath hot with rage. Faintly, I heard Pelbie screaming at him in the background.