“He’s not,” Moe defends me and I feel like I’ve grown ten feet tall. “He’s quite exceptional when he wants to.” She winks at me.
I stare at her, then my eyes drop to her lips. I lick mine in response. Her cheeks flush.
“I don’t think we’re talking about fighting anymore,” Lis says with a sigh and in the blink of an eye, she’s gone.
Moe and I barely note her absence as I tackle her to the ground and take her right there, by the ruins, in the open air.
Then she tells me just how exceptional I am atthat.
A routine develops.
When the alarm that signals the start of a new day blares through Aimaxion, I open my eyes, fuck Moe awake, shower, have breakfast, then fight my assigned battle. In the afternoon, while I get my ass kicked by Lis, Moe scribbles away into her notebook. By now she’s filled about a dozen of them, but she still hasn’t allowed me to take a peek. When the day is about to end, Moe makes dinner for us, after which we retire to our room for some alone time that inevitably ends up with Moe on her back and me between her legs—also how we usually fall asleep.
One evening, after a particularly savage spar in which I manage to force Lis to use both hands for nearly half a minute before she flips me onto my back hard to make me bleed even from my eyeballs, we sit around the fire while Moe serves dinner.
Lis takes her first bite. She closes her eyes briefly, enjoying the flavor.
Then turns to Moe and with complete seriousness says, “If he ever hurts you, I will make him regret it a hundredfold.”
Moe stifles a smile. “I think I can manage to do it myself.”
“You’re too soft. You’ll forgive him too soon.”
“No. I will not. In fact—” she sneaks a glance at me—“he knows he must answer for his mistakes if he wrongs me. And he won’t hold it against me, will you Nyk?” She bats her lashes at me.
“No,” I grumble.
“See. He’s well trained,” Moe jokes.
“I have about a hundred techniques to inflict serious bodily harm,” Lis continues. “And a few more to inflict pain at the level of the soul. If you ever need some ideas.”
Moe laughs. “I’ll make sure to ask, then.”
I stare between the two of them, noting the way they’re always conspiring against me.
“You two know I am standing right here. Why are you talking about a hundred plus ways of torturing me to my face?”
“To remind you of what’s going to happen when you upset her,” Lis replies smoothly.
Moe nods. “Reminders are good. He needs to know to behave.”
I shake my head and mutter under my breath, “You two are so damn strange.”
But as the three of us sit there, in the crimson light, laughing and exchanging jabs, I realize something.
For the first time since entering Aimaxion, this feels like comfortable…perhapstoocomfortable.
I spoke too soon.
The following day, my fight is announced on the obelisk, whispers abound all around me.
Nykander v’Kyro (559) vs Eragon Berik (701)
“Didn’t you say the fights would be within the same point range?” I ask Lis.
“Usually,” she answers curtly, her eyes on the obelisk. From her demeanor, I can tell she’s not pleased with this either.
“What’s his level? Domain?” Moe quickly asks. “We have limited time to put together a strategy.”
