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"Thanks?" she screamed. "Thanks? You treat me like dirt, and when I save our lives again all you can say is thanks?"
Jedra couldn't believe his ears. "You didn't save our lives. I saved our lives."
"Oh, you think so? Then why were you whining for me to do it for you?"
"Because you weren't doing anything! You were-"
"Silencer The voice echoed around the arena.
It was far too loud for a normal throat to have produced; it was either magically or psionically enhanced.
The voice spoke again, and they realized it came from the balconies on the palace side of the stadium. In fact, from the sorcerer-king himself, who stood resplendent in his golden robe with his arms outstretched. He said, "Your petty debate provides us some little amusement, but we quickly grow tired of your domestic squabbles. This is a gladiatorial arena, where battles are fought with blades and missiles, not with words." He laughed, a wicked, low chuckle that shook stones loose from the unfinished ziggurat. "And so shall you fight. If you wish to quarrel in public, so be it. One week hence, you shall return to this arena, weapons in hand, and battle one another-to the death!"
Chapter Eleven
The people in the audience screamed and cheered and stomped their feet. King Kalak had given them a wonderful variation on the usual gladiatorial fare. Most couples did one another in with poison or with a dagger in the night; people hardly ever saw lovers-even ones who quarreled as much as Jedra and Kayan-fight to the death in the arena.
"Come on," one of the two men said, taking Jedra's sword from his unresisting hand and tugging on his arm. "There's more waitin' their turn."
Jedra and Kayan allowed themselves to be led back underneath the ziggurat. Normally the gladiators all stayed until the end of the games, but this time the two of them were led straight past the slave pens and on out the other side, where their ever-present psionic guards and a couple of Rokur soldiers escorted them up the hill to the estate. Jedra didn't know why the difference in treatment today, but he wasn't going to complain. The less time he had to spend in the stadium, the better.
The stadium! He could still hear the king's voice echoing across it as he had pronounced their doom. He collapsed on his bunk and buried his face in his hands, while Kayan sat and stared at the stone wall.
The walled compound was nearly deserted. The two psionicists, one of the old men and one of the middle-aged women, watched over the exhausted gladiators, and a few soldiers patrolled the grounds as usual, but nearly everyone else was still at the games. Jedra peeked through his fingers at the psionicists. They weren't paying any attention to him or Kayan, no doubt assuming the captives were too tired to make a break. Which made now the perfect time to try. It didn't look like Kitarak was coming back for them, and there was no way they could wait around until the next game. They would both be killed then for refusing to fight.
He itched to extend his psionic senses, but he knew that anything he and Kayan did would have to be done suddenly in order to keep the element of surprise. They would have to join their minds and make their attack immediately, which meant planning ahead without mindlinking. Which meant whispering. Which meant getting closer to her. Jedra didn't particularly mind that idea, but he didn't expect her to feel the same way.
First things first. He sat up, wincing as his wounded arm protested the movement. No one had healed him this time. Either they didn't feel it was necessary or they didn't want to waste their effort on the doomed. He didn't care. He wouldn't be needing the arm anyway, not for this.
"Kayan?" he said softly. He swung his legs off the side of his bunk, and his ankle chain rattled to the floor.
"Hmm?" She looked over at him, her eyes still glazed over.
"I, urn, I want to apologize for some of the things I said out there today."
She said nothing, just blinked at him.
He went on. "I was trying to get you mad so you would fight. But I guess I overdid it. I'm sorry."
"Yeah," she said. "Me too."
Jedra heard one of the psionicists shift in his chair. They would no doubt love to eavesdrop on this tender conversation, but if he and Kayan were going to plan anything...
"I... can I just hold you?" he asked.
She didn't look very pleased with the idea, but she didn't say no, so he shifted over to her bunk and put his left arm around her, being careful not to smear her clothing with his bloody right arm.
They looked into each other's eyes from the closest vantage since they'd been captured. Kayan blinked, then smiled ever so faintly. "I'd almost forgotten what it felt like when we touch."
"So had I." Jedra lowered his head and kissed the hollow where her neck and shoulders met, tasting the unmistakable essence of her skin beneath the sweat and dust of the arena. He raised up to kiss her on the mouth, but she pulled back.
"Don't."
He stopped with his lips just brushing hers. "Why not?"
"Because it'll only make me love you even more, and I can't bear it."
Jedra said, "You can't bear to love me? Why not?"
