Any woman could move with poise when wrapped in flowing silk. It took a warrior to move with the same grace when outfitted for battle.
Underneath it all, she still bore the red slashes of punishment for having tried to escape. And she didn’t seem to recall any of it.
Leto smashed his doubts into pieces. If he tried hard enough, he wouldn’t remember them by the time they reached the Cage. The workings of her mind were not his to ponder. He couldn’t afford to care, not with Pell’s future at stake.
The guards let her out of the cell and secured her hands with manacles. Leto held his hands out as well. She angled him an arch look. “You, too? Why?”
“Because we’re leaving the complex. The Old Man never hosts visitors down here. We’re escorted to where the guests assemble around the full-size Cage.”
“Ah, so you have been outside. You’ve seen the sun.”
He kept from curling his hands into fists. No show of limitation. The simple recitation of fact. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“What would you think of such a thing if you lived your whole life belowground?”
Her lower lip rubbed over the upper, which plumped them both. He hated his gifts for cluttering his mind with distracting details.
“I’d see it as an enemy,” she said. “A disadvantage.”
“And the Old Man knows it. We travel in buses and wear blindfolds between.”
“Safer.”
“Necessary. Any visiting warrior would be at a serious disadvantage.”
“But if we looked?” She shook her head.
“What?”
“If we didn’t wear the blindfolds, we could see where we are? Cities. Mountains. Rural Dragon-knows- where. That could be important.”
She sounded as if she were speaking through a long, long tube of glass. Distant, even to herself. Whatever Ulia had done, Nynn had come out with her powers—and no apparent memory of fighting to free her son. He didn’t want to mention her little boy again, for fear of reversing her real potential. Or splitting her mind in two.
So he maneuvered her. He didn’t like it. It felt more like the sort of games the Tigony would play. Tricksters.
“Glory is only found in the Cages. Why would it matter where they are?”
She nodded firmly. The clouds of confusion ebbed from her eyes. “Then let’s do this.”
EIGHTEEN
Leto had proven honest about all matters pertaining to combat, and to Nynn’s survival in his world. Why wouldn’t he? Arming her with information was as much of an advantage as arming her with skills and weapons.
So when human guards blindfolded her, she acquiesced. Every advantage. She would face genuine opponents. None of the contests between Dragon Kings would be to the death. Her pride, however, was on the line. She wanted to prove herself to those she served, and to Leto.
She was led outside. Two guards held her elbows. Guiding. Restraining. They didn’t need to bother. She was as eager as she’d ever been. Only when the rush of cold, fresh air, hit her face did she flinch. She hesitated enough for the guards to jerk her forward.
The smell of snow.
The cold tingled in her nostrils and spread goose bumps across her exposed left shoulder. Her nape prickled. She’d had long hair the last time she walked in the cold. Like a soft blanket draping down her back.
A headache gathered between her brows. The guards prodded her lower back. More force. Less patience for whatever fit had taken hold of her mind. Soon she had climbed three steps onto an idling vehicle that stank of diesel. One of the buses Leto had mentioned. Old and new collided in her mind, no matter how she tried to focus on the next few hours. A sort of panic made her heart speed.
The darkness of the blindfold. The pressure of the guards’ hands. The biting manacles. Her pulse raced and her headache intensified. Panic. She couldn’t breathe. Cold snow. Diesel. Long hair. She struggled, fell, groped for purchase.
A pair of strong hands hauled her up and deposited her on a seat. “I should’ve included walking lessons, too? Didn’t realize.”
Leto’s voice was a low purr against her neck. Darkness. With him. Excitement of a different kind replaced the Cages and the disorientation. To be alone in the dark with him. But with no boundaries of leather. Skin on skin.
Breathing had been difficult, cluttered with strange thoughts. Now it was impossible. He had seen all of her. She had not seen all of him. Her imagination did its damnedest to fill in the mysteries. Her personal darkness, there behind the blindfold, was shaded with images of tan skin. Flexing muscles. Sweat. Swagger. Deadly purpose and strength. Dark eyes that watched and assessed. A mouth meant for bold kisses. A body honed for combat and sex.
“You can’t see either?”
He grunted an affirmative. “I told you as much.”
“You sound so calm,” she said. “At ease.”
“We’re on our way to victory. Of course I’m at ease.”
What about the disorientation? Or the terror Nynn couldn’t articulate? Or the restlessness of spirit that burned her sightless eyes with tears. She couldn’t feel at ease. Not like that. Not like him. Some facet of her training, maybe. She was missing something.
“You’re ready for this, Nynn. You have no reason to be this skittish.”
The bus’s engine fired to life and began to move. It sounded familiar, yet altered. All she could do was cling to what she knew. Leto’s voice—that hypnotic, magnetic rumble. His words of encouragement. His warmth created a bubble of intimacy between them. She fumbled for his hand.
He flinched again, the same as when she’d touched his temple. Yet he’d been bold as well. Touching her back. She had enjoyed the attention, but she also remembered that they’d kissed. Hard kisses. His body had levered above hers, strong and resolved. The why and where didn’t matter, only a ghostly impression of having been entirely at Leto’s whim.
He was her compass now.
Nynn tightened her fingers. A simple gesture. Hands together. She needed that reassurance. The contact seemed to unmoor him faster than any attack. Images of bare, damp flesh were replaced by the comfort of having something warm to hold on to in the dark.
She’d needed that before. Holding . . . in the terrible black . . .
“Breathe.”
His low command wove into her like hot honey. Just enough sting. Just enough sweet. Nynn exhaled. Inhaled. He kept hold of her hand and she gave up the unknowns. Too many awaited in the Cage. At least there, she had the skills and confidence to take on whatever stood in her way.
“I’m breathing,” she said. Then more firmly. “I’m breathing.”
The trip wasn’t long, more or less a half hour. Nynn spent that time mentally running through drills and holding Leto’s hand. He made no move to encourage her. No move to push her away.
When the bus stopped, he let her make her own way. How very like him. The brief minutes of silent connection—done now. Good. She needed to focus on something other than how reassuring his touch was. The roughness of his palms. The blunt weight of his bones. Again she felt a surge of wonder and awe that she would fight beside such a warrior.
