I finished proofreading this chapter so I figured I'd gift it to you early! Enjoy!
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Advance, balestra, opposition…fleche, flunge, parry…riposte, remise, point! Arya has achieved this accomplishment so many times that it’s become mundane. If she can’t become alumni, she’ll settle for beating the ever-loving crap out of Malich’s would be disciples. She figures maybe then he’ll have no choice but to acknowledge her skill.
It’s been seven moons since she last saw Lumi and she’s been wrestling with what to do. Malich has entrusted all new charges to others and it’s become evident he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight.
After the days lesson, there’s a knock on the door to her chambers. With a wave of her hand the door opens. Wary, Malich hesitates before stepping into her room. “What have I told you about the use of sorcery?” Malich pins her with a glare.
Sarcastically Arya replies, “Never to use it. Never on your precious sacred land, and never in the presence of others,” pinning him with a glare of her own and trying to calm her anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“If others knew what you could do, you’d be hunted. Is that what you want?”
Arya crosses the room, forgetting her manners and confronts him. “Does it really matter? You and I both know you will never let me out of this place. Everyone knows it! I’m your pet project and I’ll never be anything else because you don’t want me to be!”
Dax steps forward, his blade half out of its sheath. Malich motions for him to stand down.
He reaches out to gently caress the contours of Arya’s face with his fingertips. “Everything I do is to protect you…to keep you safe,” he assures her. “Arya, you’re like a daughter to me.”
“Bullshit,” she calls him out on his lies. “I see the way you look at me father…no man looks at his daughter the way you do.”
Malich smiles. He doesn’t deny it and Arya finds herself conflicted. He saved her from a cold death. She should be grateful, and she is, but she’s also angry.
He found her lying out in the snow, wrapped in rags. He could’ve chosen to leave her to her death, but he didn’t. He took her in, cared for her, raised her and groomed her. He molded her into the person she is today and she owes him everything.
Truth be told, she knew when she began to round out every cycle that things were changing between them. She remembers the very day she stopped being his daughter and he her father. She was fourteen cycles. One of the children he’d taken in had taken a liking to Arya. Ihsan was his name. Ihsan was Arya’s equal in every way. His intellect, his strength, his ferocity and his skill all earned him the highest accolades from all of the preceptors. He was Malich’s first prodigy, but when Malich realized what was happening between Arya and Ihsan, he did everything he could think of to put space between them.
Malich began to place very strict rules on his disciples. It started with curfews, segregation of the sexes and separate meal times. One moon Ihsan had finally had enough. He snuck out of his room after curfew and into Arya’s chambers. That night he gave Arya her first kiss and swiftly paid the price for it. Mere seconds after their lips touched he began scratching at his throat and coughing up blood. Panicked, Arya called for help. It was then she learned just how far Malich would go to keep them apart. Each term, equal to thirty moons, he’d gift her with new translucent lip paint to wet her lips. What he hadn’t told her was her lip paint contained ‘widows kiss’, an untraceable poison that when ingested wreaks havoc on a persons insides unless given the antidote in time.
Ihsan spent seven moons with the Magus. When he was fully healed, Ihsan was kept locked away from the other disciples in a dungeon beneath Malich’s chambers. Every moon he’d drag Arya down to Ihsan’s cell to watch as Dax beat him within an inch of his life. Then they’d drag him to the Magus to repair him, only to have him relive it all over again the next moon. It wasn’t until Arya swore never to see or speak to him again in public or private that Ihsan was finally released. At least she thinks he was released. She never saw him again after that.
“You robbed me of the one thing you knew I wanted, do not patronize me as well.” Arya seethed. “I am notyour daughter. I don’t know what we are to each other, but what I do know is you cannot keep me here like this. I will serve you Malich and I will serve you well, but do not stand in my way. Do not pit yourself against me, stand at my side. Helpme.”
“Leave us,” Malich commanded. Dax looked surprised. He’d never been dismissed like this before and he had his reservations about leaving Malich unprotected in Arya’s presence. She was angry and capable of anything. “Do not make me ask again.” Malich turned to Dax.
Reluctantly, Dax inclined his head and left the two of them alone. Arya thought about slitting Malich’s throat for all of the pain he’s caused her, but found that familiar itch for blood didn’t extend to him. She couldn’t do it and she hated herself for it. He deserved it and yet he didn’t. She hated him and yet she loved him. To what extent, she couldn’t distinguish. She only knew it was enough to quench her appetite for blood.
Malich is handsome. The kind of handsome that drives girls crazy, and he’s domineering. Add in his wealth, power, cunning and physical attributes, and you have the perfect recipe for a very effective arse with snakelike charm. Arya has watched him charm the underclothes off many women under his tutelage, and she knows how persuasive he can be. Yet, he never uses his charm on her…he never pushes and he never oversteps his boundaries. He always keeps just beyond the thin line of impropriety, never crossing.
He takes a step closer to her and his chin meets cold hard steel. “Don’t come any closer,” she warns. Again, a serpent’s smile slithers across Malich’s face. She knew drawing her blade wouldn’t deter him in the least bit, but holding her dagger to his throat made her feel better.
Undeterred, he comes closer, allowing her dagger to pierce the flesh beneath his chin. Malich hisses, teeth clenched, wincing at the pain and Arya pulls her blade back.
Mercy...
Leave it to Malich to be the exception to her lack of mercy. He’s groomed her well…gotten inside her head. She doesn’t want to hurt him. If Dax were in the room to see her draw Malich’s blood she’d be dead. Malich’s warm blood trickles between her fingers and she’s more worried about the fact that he’s hurt than being kept like a prisoner at the moment.
Needing a change, Arya focused on his fresh wound. “I should get something to stop the bleeding,” she crosses the room to her wash bin, grabbed a cloth of the side, cleaning agents and a bandage. “Dax is going to kill me.”
While Arya bandages him up as quickly as she can, he watches her, transfixed, never taking his eyes off of her. It’s not until she’s done that he finally speaks. “Dax won’t harm you.”
“And I have you to thank for that I’m sure.”
“I know you’re angry, and I know you wanted to graduate with your comrade’s, but trust me, this is for the best Arya,” he flashes her a warm almostfatherly smile.
She inclines her head, but his words still ring false. He’s lying to her and she doesn’t understand why. As far back as she can remember he’s always supported her. Never once did he stand in her way, until Ihsan…until now.
“Does this mean you’ll stop giving my charges away to other disciples?” She asks.
A sly grin spreads across his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Of course he knew what she was talking about. He fixed his face into unreadable deniability, but Arya didn’t need to read him to know he knew exactly what she was talking about.
Once he left her chambers, Arya hurried to the wood planks in the floor beneath her bed. There she pulled out the sack she stashed the moment she decided she was leaving. She’d leaned on Malich long enough and it was time she figured things out on her own. She’s no longer a babe unable to take care of herself; she’s practically a woman. How would he ever see that if she didn’t prove herself?
Arya stashed quite the collection of fenced items she’d acquired during her outings. There was enough to keep her fed and housed for at least a term and when funds got low she figured she could barter her services or take what she needed in order to survive.
She’d written Malich a letter and placed the envelope against the pillows on her bed. For a moment she hesitated. She knew he’d hunt her down the moment he realized she was gone, but with enough of a head start she might be able to stay ahead of him.
Arya closed her eyes, pulled at the fabric of the world and winnowed herself back to the alley she’d lured failure to. It’s the quickest way out of the Redlands and the only way she could ensure no one would follow. Not many of Malich’s soldiers had her gifts, and if he wanted her back, he’d have to send one hell of a soldier to retrieve her. As far as Arya is concerned, he should’ve seen this coming.
The door to the human plane wasn’t too far away and there was no time to waste. Arya quickly set off on foot. She pulled the hood of her black cloak over her head to conceal her face and made her way to the winnow point before she lost light.
Beggars filled the dirt and gravel thoroughfares, slipping into the pockets of unsuspecting socialites on their way home. The heavy aroma of a decaying populace and baked bread filled the air. Structures of various trades lined the street with patrons spilling both in and out of each establishment.
Arya listened for following footsteps and scented for familiar redolence, all while keeping careful watch on her surroundings. Her twin scimitars were carefully hidden under her cloak, her twin stilettos hung at her hips, and she had two daggers tucked into the tips of her boots. She’d never been to the human plane before, she’d only heard about it from those who’d been and didn’t know what to expect.
Nothing could’ve prepared her for what she found. Many homes were burned to the ground. Humans took to sleeping on the walkways and in abandoned homes. Many were thin and starving, begging for food, and desperate. She found the closest inn and tossed a copper coin onto the counter. “One room, please.”
“How old are you girl?” the desk clerk narrowed his eyes at her.
“Seventeen,” she leered back.
“Read the sign,” he points to a sign so badly worn she cant even make out the words, “no one under the age of eighteen allowed.”
“Well then I’m eighteen, what difference does it make? Do you have board or not?”
The desk clerk shoved the coin back at her. “Not. We don’t serve your kind here.”
Frowning she asked, “My kind?”
“You may look like us, but you don’t move like us.”
“What gave me away?”
“Well for starters, there aren’t girls as pretty as you in these parts of town. It’s too dangerous,” he replies, “and then there’s my working relationship with Malich Jarrah. If you were here at his instruction, I’d have known before hand. I wonder what he’d say if I told him a particular brown-skinned beauty showed up at my inn asking for room and board.”
Arya quickly scooped the coin up in her hand and tucked it back into her coin purse. Malich had more than just the Redland plane in his pocket and she knew as soon as she left, the clerk would send word to Malich. She needed to get far away and fast.
Setting off on foot to the other side of town, Arya walked until she began to feel exhausted. Exhaustion isn’t something she had to worry about within the Redland plane. The Redlands was built on magic. She could feel it in her bones and every synapse within her body. The human plane was a bit different. There’s magic here, but very faint. No wonder her kind hated coming here. The Gods ruled this plane.
She needed to find somewhere to rest and regain her strength. The human plane dulled her gift as well. Stay here long enough and she might lose her gifts altogether, or so the story goes.
There were no inns on the other side of town, just homes, and she felt herself shutting down. With no energy to continue, she turned down the dirt road between two abandoned houses, collapsed in the wild grass between them and promptly passed out.
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