Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Vale

You never forget the smack of fists on flesh. Not when it was a scar burned into the delicate recesses of your childhood mind. Critical, formative years lost to it.

Helpless, too young to do anything. That was how I felt again as Ledger's fist met Cypherion's cheek.

The fight had been going on for four minutes already according to the clock ticking away above the ring. Most didn't last this long even, and they weren't appearing to slow down.

Four minutes of both fighters getting in blows.

Body numb, my fingers tightened around the rope as Cypherion took another punch. His head snapped back as he stumbled. He righted himself, scanning his opponent, but not quickly enough to avoid a second hit to his ribs.

I winced, practically feeling that one myself. It was going to bruise, if not fracture.

How did he not dodge it? He had tracked that hit, watched it and tried to move but not quickly enough. His reflexes were usually faster than that.

Cypherion swung out, but Ledger moved impossibly quickly, rotating around the back of him. And Cypherion seemed disoriented.

"No, no, no," I muttered, cutting through the crowd to pace around the ring, my stomach knotting. I ignored their complaints and slurs—rowdy viewers stepping on my skirt and elbowing me—tugging my cloak tighter around me as I followed Cypherion's dizzying, dancing steps.

I wasn't in the fighting den, though. Not fully.

A part of my mind was back in the temple, watching a friend be punished for incoherent readings. I had rarely been hit, as my magic was stronger, but I watched. And as Cypherion barely dodged another blow, it all rushed back to me.

Marble that once shone, now smeared with blood. Had they always been tainted? I'd wondered in later years, when the memories woke me in the night, in a city far away from the pain.

As you must , we were to say as the punishments were doled out.

They scrubbed the floors spotless, but how clean could marble really be after that? Some stains tarnished the brightest stars.

Some broke them entirely.

Ledger ducked Cypherion's next hit and caught his wrist, swinging it behind his back, and I winced. Cypherion stifled a pained grunt, but it radiated down my bones.

He could have cried out, and the sound would have been buried beneath the crowd's shouts, but he wouldn't reveal that hint of weakness no matter how badly it hurt.

My mind was cramped with jeers. Was my vision spotting?

A streak of blood dripped down the side of Cypherion's cheek. It crawled so slowly, like a fate suspended in time, until it finally dripped over the line of his jaw and splattered to the dirt. I stumbled along the rope further, not certain where I was going, just that I needed to do something before I watched more of that crimson stain the floor.

I wanted to get on my knees and plead for him to keep fighting, to even the score, but—my vision swam again.

"Vale?" someone said behind me, and I froze. The voice was airy with disbelief, but there are some you never forget, even after more than a decade. Particularly the ones you heard screaming under those punishments as a child.

Stealing a breath of confidence, I searched Cypherion's form one more time—noticed where he seemed weaker than he should—then, I turned.

And though I knew to whom that voice belonged, I gasped. "Harlen?"

Angels, I'd seen him when I entered, but I convinced myself I hadn't. Why would he still be here? In this wretched city after all these years? Why hadn't he run ?

"Vale," he breathed again.

No, no, no—I wasn't supposed to be seen .

"I thought you were in Valyn. What—how—sixteen years, Vale." His smile was so wide, it pierced my heart. My favorite smile as children; my best friend and safety in that horrid temple. "I barely recognized you when you walked in, but I was so sure." He laughed. "I think a piece of me will always know you."

"Harlen." I had to get rid of him, but I could barely think over the pressure squeezing my chest and nerves spotting my vision.

He'd grown—of course he'd grown. Straight black hair framed his face to his shoulders, and dark eyes wore years of lessons. Harlen was only a year older than me, a brother after I'd lost?—

I shook away the thought. I couldn't think about her either.

I met Harlen's eager stare, but nearly flinched at all the reminders that came crashing back. A wary wall solidified around my heart and mind, built of the betrayals of my past.

A ground-shaking thud had me whirling around again, my head spinning. Cypherion was flat on his back, the warrior having swept his legs from behind. More blood streaked his face. And then Ledger stepped closer?—

Planted a booted foot right on Cypherion's outstretched hand as he tried to roll away.

He didn't yell, but I did. The room was a blur, the voices screaming louder.

"Vale," Harlen said, an arm dropping around my shoulder and squeezing me to him. I squirmed from his grasp, as foreign as the snows of Mindshaper Territory.

He looked me over with hurt in his eyes, but he didn't try to touch me again. "What are you doing here?" His eyes flicked between the ring and me as Cypherion fought off Ledger and staggered back to his feet. "Who is that?"

"A friend," I forced through my dry throat. "I'm here with him. We are…working together."

It was too much. Harlen, in this place, with the echoes of flesh beating flesh. Flashes of his small form taking punches overlaid themselves on the ring.

But no, it wasn't Harlen being beat this time.

It was the warrior I cared for so deeply, so much more than a friend , in the ring with blood streaking his face.

They melted together now. Harlen's dark eyes and Cypherion's blue ones. Black and auburn hair—round cheeks and firm jawlines. Boyhood ruined by split knuckles. A heart wrung-out and determined in the ring.

The blood…

My vision rippled, like I was held beneath the surface of a roiling sea. My muscles were locking up. This was more than panic.

A familiar terror clawed its way up my throat.

"Harlen, is there—" My tongue was heavy, but Cypherion stumbled again, and I forced the words out. "Do people read in here?"

Harlen's brows pulled together. "Of course." He dropped his voice, then. Leaned closer. His breath fanned across my neck, my hyper-sensitive skin prickling as I fought to keep my eyes on Cypherion. "The back rooms are isolated for official readings, but they don't look too closely at what's snuck in. Especially when it's scentless."

Scentless…

I scanned the room as best I could. Some attendees stood against the back walls, relaxed and dazed, while others clung to the ropes, desperate for their bets to land.

"They're reading now ?" My wavering stare locked on Ledger, on the glassy-eyed, rage-fueled expression. "Is he ?"

But I did not need Harlen's subtle, confused nod to know. Understanding collected like shattered stars in my mind, ripped apart by my broken readings. It crept through me as a session tried to take over, locking my joints and stiffening my muscles.

I stumbled, hands gripping Harlen's arms as he caught me around the waist. And I was weak enough this time, I didn't pull back.

"Vale? Are you all right?" Harlen's words were mud in my ears.

Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder. Cypherion's focus was not on the fight—it was on me.

Long enough that a fist struck his bruised ribs, sending him back to the floor. Hot tears snuck down my cheeks.

"Harlen," I hissed, ignoring the reluctance tugging at my mind. "Take me somewhere private."