Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Fokk.

His heart had lurched the second he’d seen her soar into the battle ring.

It had thudded so hard in his chest that it had impacted through his body, hiding his unbidden reaction, his hardening cock, in his cowl.

When it kicked in again, his hawkstone thrummed.

It was saturated with churning emotions at the sight of the woman haunting his dreams and hereafter visions.

When he confronted her in her bedchamber to probe her reasons for being on Katánē, he had seen enough to not judge her threat any more.

Since then, unable to keep her from his mind, he’d slipped from the warrior kambí.

Winging to the Sābər Arena in stealth to watch her kick ass in the Kos’ most prominent kəthi arena.

She fought with a prowess he’d never witnessed before. Her blade thrusts were minimal yet true, almost always landing where they were aimed.

Her muscles were taut and defined. When she clenched her fists around the hilt of her weapon, the force of her grip turned her knuckles white.

She moved with a fluid grace, each movement purposeful and powerful.

Every time he laid eyes on her, he was seared by the heat radiating off Sana’a’s body.

Fokk, sparks flew.

Her ferocity, a tangible energy, emanated from her core, like she’d consume and command any challenge in her path.

It was as if lightning had been bottled and set free, a chaotic and uncontainable might that cracked and sparked with intensity.

It didn’t help that her diamond-flecked eyes, long dark mane, full lips, and controlled power were playing with his mind.

As were the torturous dreams of her, the endless, heated visions of her beauty, her command and strength, riding him, sexing him, fokkin’ him till he wept with pleasure.

Desire tore through him like a storm, and he cursed.

Yet in the split second they’d locked eyes, his hawk-eye perception had seen colours and hues never imagined surrounding her, an aura of such clarity and power it had almost floored now.

Now, it lingered, giving his vision a lucidity he’d never experienced like her presence had filtered out the shadows.

The truth was, her energy was feral. It set him off. Every movement was electric, crackling with a fierce intensity that could not be contained. It was like she was a bolt of lightning, ready to strike with precision and potency.

Her blades were savage, an entity unto themselves.

It’d been madness to touch one because his cognition had been bombarded with a battlefield of conflicting prophecies even in that second of connection with it.

Turning his mind into a roiling ocean, churned by the relentless onslaught of visions and premonitions.

Each one, a wave crashing against the shore of his perception.

This was wild.

She was wild.

Her blade force was off the charts,Killen mused to himself.

When she’d almost daggered him on Eden II, he’d looked into her.

She was rumoured to be behind the assassinations of at least four high-ranking targets.

Among them, a Galician politician, a Falasian general, and a Dunian chief federal prosecutor, all believed to be embroiled in rampant corruption.

One liquidation of a rogue Rhesian prince had involved Sana’a sauntering into his palace and offering a prize gift from the King of Rhesia himself. Upon being invited in, the package opened to reveal her blades, which ripped apart her enemy target while she sauntered out.

She’d fought alongside freedom warriors and, as he’d found from reading her mind, killed a Drákon Queen.

There was no doubt. She was a kickass hashashin, an assassin, a blader of the highest order.

Maybe Sana’a was the shikari he needed to prime him for the battles he dreaded ahead.

‘Katánē has never seen anyone the likes of you,’ Kaniz murmured as she led Sana’a through the bowels of the arena. ‘The fact you fly without wings and conquer sans koya is blowing our collective minds.’

Behind them, the still stunned crowds bayed and roared as chaos ensued in the schill lenders’ booths.

‘You’ve caused quite the commotion, like none we’ve experienced before,’ the kəthi master continued. ‘Kysin has remained undefeated for years and only descends from his monastery once a year to gather his sure-fire winnings, so you’ve lit some serious flames with your win. They’re creditors calling for your neck.’

Sana’a clutched the shotel in her hand tight, still tense from her skirmish with Killen freakin’ Sable.

‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’ she murmured, distracted.

Kaniz chuckled. ‘Naam. Our savvy sponsor placed schills on both of you, but she’ll be pleased to make bank on you regardless just because you’re in my kísímí kəst. On that note, she’d like to meet you. Now.’

Sana’a gave Kaniz a surprised look. ‘What the hell? I’m not respectable.’

Her metsai suit was streaked with dust and blood, her hair wild and caked with sand and sweat.

It had been a vicious bout, and her body ached. She longed for a hot shower and a fokkin’ whiskey, not for a small talk session and being paraded around like a prize cockerel.

‘You’ll be fine,’ the master said. ‘She’s used to her kəthi fighters looking battle-worn.’

‘You were magnificent.’

The soft voice came from behind the pair, causing them to pivot.

Sana’a’s eyes fell on a woman with an effortless braided gilded krest that fell in a wave down one shoulder.

The newcomer also wore a simple slip dress that hinted at lingerie and was embellished with a drop waist, lace, feather trim, and micro-pleats.

Although it screamed schill-dripping wealth, it was far from the elaborate ruffles, oversized bows, and glittery feathers Sana’a had spotted in the arena.

Her bright blue eyes were radiant and lively. Her mouth curved into a smile.

She reached out a hand. ‘Kesia Djan.’

Sana’a shook her hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

‘It’s my pleasure, given you’ve made me an even richer woman this evening.’

Sana’a raised a brow. ‘Where’s my cut?’

Kesia’s laugh was a trill, her eyes dancing as she swivelled between Sana’a and the kəthi master. ‘Kaniz, I like her. You did well.’

The kísímí master gave a slight bow. ‘I did nothing. The Shotelai did it all herself.’

The Katánian noblewoman cocked her head. ‘Rumours of your people’s blade skills are rife, but I never seen any of you fight. Were those Shotelai techniques you used?’

Sana’a hesitated until Kaniz dug an elbow into her side. ‘Naam. Becoming a skilled dagger-wielder requires more than shining armour and a sharp weapon—we need technique. It’s normal for my people to train for decades. Often from childhood, practising nimble footwork, how to deflect attacks, and various gruesome ways to kill opponents as fast as possible.’

Kesia nodded, her head bobbing, eyes flashing with eager interest. ‘We Katánians are no different, but you have astounding precognition about your sequences as if you can see the sābər’s trajectory before it moves. Kysin’s íkan was useless against you.’

The noblewoman’s lingering shock was evident in her awestruck expression and the shaking of her head in disbelief.

Sana’a inclined her head. ‘He landed several worthy blows.’

Kesia leaned in and delivered her news in a sotto whisper. ‘His sponsor is livid.’

‘She would be,’ Kaniz grinned.

‘She’s been raging in the royal stand, complaining to anyone with ears. Methinks she lost quite a few schills in backing her Monk.’

Kaniz and Kesia shared a self-satisfied look.

‘Now you must come by to my eyrie for a meal. I want to hear more about you and your people,’ Kesia called, turning back to Sana’a.

A flurry erupted at the entrance to the changing rooms.

Kesia turned her head, and her face darkened with mock fear. ‘Fokkin’ hackles.’

A woman in a jewel-encrusted plumage that fountained above her krest, swept into the space, flocked by her colourful entourage.

Kalila Khensu looked around the room for a long time until her eyes fell on Kesia, Kaniz, and Sana’a. Her mouth tightened, and her eyes narrowed.

‘Incoming,’ warned Kaniz as the royal approached the trio, her retinue fluttering behind.

Kalila elevated a long clawed and wildly hued hand to stay them, and her cortège clustered into a group, whispering amidst themselves at the entrance.

Sana’a spotted Kamilla amongst them in the background, and their eyes met for a second.

She lifted her chin in greeting, and the stunning gold-haired woman nodded back, then eased away, back towards the arena.

‘You’re the reason we’re tarred today,’ came a low, husky hiss.

‘Who do you speak of and to Kalila? Me? Kaniz? The entire kəthi? Specifics matter, my dear,’ Kesia drawled, bobbing her head.

The Kíntí of the deceased Kíríga raised a talon and pointed straight at Sana’a. ‘Her. I’ve lost a fortune because of her.’

Sana’a hid her rage at the woman’s audacity to breathe this close to her.

She radiated with dark energy, making the hairs on the back of Sana’a’s neck stand on end as if a toxic aura seeped out of Kalila’s pores.

The Katánian Royal’s eyes were cold and calculating, with a glint of malice that sent shivers down Sana’a’s spine. Her presence was suffocating, like being trapped in a room with no air and no hope of escape.

Tamping down the desire to whip her blades and cut the woman down, Sana’a shrugged. ‘What am I supposed to do about it?’

Kalila sniffed and pulled back. ‘Don’t you have any dignity? You were meant to concede. My eyrie was set for a win today.’

When Sana’a raised her brow, Kalila’s ire grew, turning to Kesia and Kaniz. ‘Didn’t you two tell her? We take turns spreading our wins and losses amongst the kəst. Given we are of the same one roost! She broke tradition.’

Kaniz lifted her shoulders in a dismissive shrug. ‘I must have forgotten whose turn it was this time. I was caught up in the excitement of having a Shotelai fight in the arena for the first time.’

Kalila leaned in, close to Kesia, but kept her finger pointed at Sana’a. ‘You owe me for my dues today!’

The younger noblewoman slanted away from her, wrinkling her nose at the intrusion of feathers. ‘Nada, I do not. You made your bed when you over-extended yourself with your lenders. I can’t control the quantity you place on the table. I, for one, end up being more conservative, so I’ve banked schills tonight. It’s a strategy I urge you to consider.’

The Dead King’s sister snapped. ‘Kesia, you did this. You played me, and now I have creditors circling my eyrie!’

Kesia laughed in derision. ‘Oh, the barefaced entitlement! Why don’t you plumb the depths of the imperial coffers to pay your debts? Lord knows you’ve plundered it quite often in recent months.’

Kalila blanched. ‘I can’t. Someone put a hold on my access. Was it my feckless brother, your insidious husband?’

Kesia smiled. ‘Kaadiq is too busy tending his fields to contend with your allowance and schill nests. I can ask around to find out why your credit has been frozen.’

‘Nada!’ The royal Kíntí snarled, affronted by the thought of her under-plumes airing in public. ‘Don’t breathe a word. I’ll be the laughing stock of Kos.’

‘Ah, Kalila,’ Kesia sighed. I can never figure you out. You marched here like you needed a problem solved, and now you reject my kind offer. It seems you needn’t have your feathers in a tizzy.’

Kalila gave her sister-in-law a nasty look. ‘Don’t try me, Kesia.’

Her contender smiled. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

They stared off at each other for a moment like circling vultures until Kalila turned her birdlike skull to Sana’a. ‘As for you, I’ll have to use my mystic arts in my fighting kəst to challenge you.’

Sana’a bestowed her a slight smile and an even tinier bow. ‘Do your best.’

Kalila raked her eyes over the Shotelai woman before swinging her cloak and strutting back to her waiting retinue, who all flounced out behind her.