Chapter 31 #2
A cry rose around them, and Iryana watched as the winner of the latest fight had his fist thrust into the air. She stared.
It was Pyetar, skin wet with sweat and blood.
There was a sneer on his lips, and his muscles were still tense as if he hadn’t realized the fight was over.
He looked barely contained, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
He spat to the side, a streak of red-tinged spit landing on the stained dirt floor of the pit.
Pyetar looked wild, dangerous. Even more so than when he showed off for the other soldiers, putting them in their place.
But then she looked into his eyes, and they looked—blank.
It wasn’t what she would have expected based on the rest of him, coiled to strike.
She would have thought his eyes would look like that day he had kept Karvek from finding her.
When he stood a breath away, with the rain pouring down around them, fire blazed in his eyes.
There had been no doubt in her mind at that moment that he felt something.
Now, it seemed he felt nothing.
The crowd continued to shout and cheer, standing and calling out pairings they wanted to see next. Challenges called out.
Iryana lost her view of the pit as people moved in front of her. She managed one last glimpse of Pyetar stumbling toward the ladder to leave the pit before she slipped back in the next window to head down the stairs.
Iryana forced herself to focus on reaching Karvek. She had a job to do.
Once, a focused, almost-angry look on her face could clear a path, but not anymore.
The crowds around the pit were full of adrenaline and roaring testosterone.
Soldiers were jeering at their friends, wrapping their injuries, hollering at the newest fighters in the pit.
With nearly every step Iryana took, she had to avoid someone backing into her, too focused on the newest blood sprayed across the dirt of the pit or just without a care to swerve out of the way.
When Iryana finally made it down to the ground, she felt ready to fight herself. If one more person bumped into her, she was bound to drive her fist into their face.
Karvek sat at the center of the dais, right at the edge of the pit, lounging in the large chair brought out from his hall.
The lines of his face were tense, his gaze tight.
One captain had been talking to him quietly, but when Karvek’s eyes found Iryana, he dismissed the captain with a lazy wave of his hand.
The dais creaked as Iryana stepped up.
“Are you enjoying the fights?” Karvek asked. The sun above his head made the angles of his face seem even sharper.
He looked every bit a general. His brown hair waving beneath his cap, body leaned back confidently. Leisurely but not slouching.
Iryana forced herself to take a calming breath to still her frustration with what he was letting the brigade become before she answered, though she wondered if he might like her anger. “It’s been interesting, General.”
Karvek eyed her, gauging her.
“You may not like the violence, but that is not the real fun.” Karvek waved his hand flippantly and shrugged. “The real entertainment is predicting the fights, figuring out who will win, who wants it more.”
She could see his eyes light up at those words and latched onto it. Everything she had seen Karvek take interest in had been about coming out on top. Those who impressed him would be the ones he kept close. The ones that proved irreplaceable.
“Sit with me,” Karvek ordered, gesturing at the arm of his chair.
She hesitated, but only for a moment. Being so close to Karvek always made her feel uneasy; she was never entirely sure what he wanted with her.
And everyone would be able to see them. As Iryana sat down, he pointed at the new fighters that were descending into the pit.
“Look at them. Who do you think will win?”
Inclining her head toward Karvek, she tried to ignore the prickling along her skin from his presence. Iryana barely had a moment to look at the new fighters before a cough interrupted them.
“I was told you wanted to see me, General?” Pyetar stared stiffly at his brother from the edge of the dais.
For a moment, Karvek coiled at Iryana’s side. Then he was all smiles for Pyetar.
“You’ve won every fight. The Horvol name has stood tall today.”
She wasn’t sure, but it looked like Pyetar tensed before he nodded.
A slight hesitation, perhaps. She looked him over carefully.
He was standing so tall and rigid that it was like his injuries had dissipated.
But then she noticed the slight hitch in his breathing, the way his weight was leaning slightly too far to one side. Blood still soaked his clothes.
Karvek leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I have another fight for you, one that will make the last one look like two kids wrestling in the play yard.” He chuckled deeply. “The soldiers will go into a frenzy placing their bets. I might even place one myself.”
Slowly—achingly slowly—Iryana looked at Karvek.
He would send his brother in to fight again?
Pyetar was already injured and exhausted.
Surely Karvek didn’t expect him to win. But then, maybe Karvek didn’t plan to bet on his brother.
It wasn’t as if Karvek needed the money, but Iryana couldn’t decide if what he really wanted was to win or to control his brother.
With the poppy and increased tribute she’d seen moving in and out of the fort, his stores had to be full.
So then… what? Did he want to humiliate Pyetar?
Karvek wanted the Horvol name to be strong, but this seemed like it would go against that.
Although with how many fights Pyetar had already won, she couldn’t imagine that his losing at this point would make him look weak.
A horrible option came to her; what if Karvek wanted Pyetar killed?
“I don’t have another one in me,” Pyetar said in a hushed tone.
“I know.” Karvek’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“There’s no point in putting me in the ring again.” Pyetar breathed, the moment bloating.
“Are you denying me?” Karvek’s voice was a threat.
“Of course not.” There was resignation in the lines of his body.
Iryana spoke before allowing herself to think the words through. “It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”
Karvek turned to look at her like a whip, stare pointed and wild. A warning.
“You don’t like my plan for Pyetar?” His voice was dangerously calm. “You want to keep him safe?”
Iryana kept herself from looking away, holding his stare instead. “He looks about to fall over. Who would bet on him? You said this was a game of odds, and that has me thinking…”
“Go on?” His hand slid over her shoulder.
“It isn’t just about guessing who will win or lose; you’re too smart to be interested in that. It’s about seeing what others don’t, seeing a winner when others see a failure.” Iryana took a slow breath, calming her racing heart. “There is a fight no one will see coming.”
Would she really do it? Throw an innocent man to the wolves to protect Pyetar of all people? Although that man was likely far from innocent himself.
“I’m intrigued.”
Iryana leaned in and whispered in his ear. While she told Karvek her plan, her gaze found Pyetar still standing at the edge of the dais. There was a complete lack of tension in his body, but his eyes were blank. Purposefully blank. She was starting to recognize that look.
“Bring Voor,” Karvek announced, and one soldier who had been standing off to the side rushed off to obey his general. Voor, another soldier with an unbeatable record in the pit, but with a hidden injury that those betting would be unaware of.
She tried to seem relaxed while they all waited, watching the current fight with Karvek. Not letting herself flinch as blows landed. Ignoring Pyetar’s stare.
Then Voor was walking toward them, and she kept her eyes on Karvek’s face as he stared intently at the soldier. His eyes narrowed for just a moment, and she knew that was the moment he confirmed the slight hitch in Voor’s step that others would miss. He was too observant not to.
“You’ve impressed me in your fights, soldier,” Karvek told the man. “I want to call you into the pit again. I have an impressive match lined up. The prize money will make the rest of your winnings tonight seem paltry.”
Her breath lodged in her throat. If Voor refused to fight, Karvek would go back to his original plan. Or perhaps he would kill Voor and then send Pyetar into the pits. It was hard to tell how much Karvek would retaliate if disobeyed.
She could only hope the soldier’s greed would win out.
“Of course, General,” Voor said with only a hint of hesitation. “I look forward to putting on a show for you.”
But he wanted the money more—she could see it in the flash of his eyes. All the new soldiers had flocked to Myura River Fort for a reason, and that wasn’t Karvek. It was what he could do for them. What his poppy operation allowed him to do.
With Voor led away to prepare for the fight, Karvek turned back to his brother. Pyetar was still standing there, waiting. Looking like he might collapse any moment.
“I no longer need you,” Karvek said, dismissing him with a wave. “Go clean yourself up; you’re a mess.”
Iryana didn’t let herself droop, but the relief instantly dulled the fear cutting through her body.
She met Pyetar’s gaze for a moment, and it was like he was shouting at her. There was anger and promise in his eyes—promise of what, she didn’t know. And then he too was led away.
“Should I dedicate this fight to you?” Karvek asked her, voice quiet but still sharp. “It was your idea after all.”
She smiled at him. “The only recognition I want is yours.”
He liked that answer; a satisfied smirk briefly tugged at his lips. Then he turned to watch the starting fight.
Iryana pretended to pay attention, but her mind was spinning.
She knew how much the 18th collected from the settlements, how much they charged to move shipments around and guard caravans.
And it was a good amount of money, enough to let the 18th support living out amongst the dakii with limited land.
Let them pay their soldiers well enough. But not enough to entice men like Voor.
No, the men Karvek recruited for his war—those willing to risk their lives for him against more than just the dakii—needed more. And there was only one way they would get that.
It was all earned from that dangerous little flower.
And that meant Karvek’s control was just as fragile.
A thrill surged through Iryana as she absently let Karvek pull her into his side. She blinked up into his eyes like a dutiful soldier who couldn’t wait to impress him.
She knew exactly where Karvek got those poppies, and she was going to burn them all.
As soon as the fight was over—the outcome just as she expected—and Karvek had dismissed her, Iryana slipped away.
Iryana walked as fast as she dared through the fort, a bland expression frozen on her face. Her whole body felt on the verge of shaking, tension gripping every muscle.
The poppies.
Without drugs for the soldiers to sell, without money to offer them, the extra soldiers would have no reason to stay. It wouldn’t stop Karvek for good, but it could be enough to weaken them and buy some time.
The barracks were empty as she raced up the stairs, the thud of her boots against the stone steps echoing up the mostly empty stairwell.
She needed to hurry. That night would be full of drinking and debauchery, enough to keep the entire fort low-staffed well through the next day, or at least she hoped.
This was her chance to get away long enough to burn through the fields she had seen.
Iryana swung into her room, trying to calm her racing heart enough to make a list of everything she needed. Dark clothes to sneak out and then back in, food and water for the trip, fire starter…
She pulled off her clothes from the fights, pulling on black trousers and slipping a simple black dress over her head.
When she held up the leather chest piece of her guardian armor, her hands were trembling.
With a curse, Iryana closed her eyes and again tried to calm herself.
She needed to get the armor on. She needed to leave.
The door crashed open, and Iryana spun, tensing. The panic flooding through her body slowed when she saw who it was.
“Pyetar.”