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‘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 k?thi 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 sab?r’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 k?thi? 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.’
