“Troy, this is Max,” Frey says.
We shake hands, but I instantly dislike the man. He’s taller than Frey, but only by an inch. His blond hair is cut short, but still long enough that it brushes the tops of his ears. He’s extremely muscular, almost causing his shirt to rip. A dragon’s tail peeks out from under the sleeve of his right arm. He sneers when he smiles, but I can’t tell if it’s just natural, or if there’s something more behind it.
“So you’re Max,” he says, still holding my hand. “Brink has told me a lot about you.”
Great, I wonder what sordid tale he wove. He probably made it sound like we were an item in the Outer Limits. Like I was one of his conquests, though I think he’s still a virgin. I wish Frey hadn’t brought me here.
“Oh,” is what I reply.
Troy looks down at my other hand, noticing I’m gripping onto Frey. He frowns slightly, but recovers. “So, Frey, is Max yours now? My how quickly we change beds,” Troy says more to me, than Frey.
I’m on the verge of punching Troy when Frey pulls me away, escorting me out of the room and down the hall. We enter what Frey calls a trophy room, but all I see are dead carcasses of animals long extinct. Sitting in the middle of the menagerie is a bow and arrow with a plaque underneath. I let go of Frey and try to get closer to the weapon so I can read what’s written.
Owner: Jack Larsen – highest pointed participant in the history of The Litarian Battles.
“Who’s Jack Larsen?” I ask Frey, after he’s made his way over to me.
“He is Troy’s older brother. He’s the only one in history to have reached fifty thousand points in The Litarian Battles. The Keepers let his family keep the weapon he used before sending him off to live in Icarian.”
I instinctively begin to reach for it, but Frey grabs my arm, halting my progress.
“Same rules apply here as they do in The Litarian Battles. Only Jack can handle it. Watch.” Frey takes his hand and tries to grab a hold of the bow, but his hand falls right through it, almost like the weapon is only an image and not a solid object.”
“Hey, Frey,” Troy calls from the doorway. “Stop dicking around with Jack’s shit. I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”
Frey follows Troy and they disappear.
I look back over at the bow, then down at my hand, and begin to wonder.
Was I damaged for a reason? Matron Kaniz told me that only the weapon’s owner can use it, no one else.
I hesitate, but I know the longer I stay the more Frey will wonder where I am. I reach my hand out, hovering it above the bow, and slowly letting it fall. My skin makes contact, the smooth steel cold against my flesh. My palm wraps around the weapon and I pick it up. I don’t hold it for long, and put it back in its place. I should be startled with the discovery, but a voice in the back of my mind is telling me not to be. That I knew it would happen. But what did they do to my body to allow me such ability? And better yet, why?
Ten
Frey and Troy aren’t in the common room when I return. I try to escape before Brink sees me, but I’m not fast enough. He sidles up next to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me up against him. The smell of alcohol on his breath is heavy, and his eyes are a bit droopy. Everyone else in the room ignores us, which I’m fine with. Brink practically drags me over to an empty couch, pulling me down on top of him.
“How I’ve missed you,” he says to me, groping my ass.
I push myself up, and try to get off him, but he has a tight grip on my arm so I wind up on the floor with him now on top of me.
“Brink, you’re drunk,” I say, working on maneuvering myself out from under him.
“Just a little bit,” he answers.
His hand begins making its way up my shirt. I push him away, but he seems to have gained strength since the last time I had to fight him off.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I shout.
“Now is that anyway to talk to your future mate.”
He begins to kiss my neck, almost sucking on it. No one in the room is helping me, which is concerning.
Are the people in Tarsus that morally corrupt that they’ll let anything happen? Is something like this a normal occurrence for them? Where do they draw the line on what people can and cannot do to each other?
Brink is in the process of unbuttoning his pants when Frey lifts him up by the collar, throwing him across the room. Brink crashes into the paneling covering the wall, putting a massive dent in it. He gets to his feet, wipes the blood from his nose, and charges Frey. I swing my legs out, knocking Brink on his ass. Frey is punching him mercilessly to the point where Troy has to step in before Frey kills him.
“The Keepers will not be happy if you kill him outside of the battles. Wait till he gets selected,” Troy says.
Frey uncurls his hands, helps me to my feet, and we leave. The walk home is quiet and awkward. I’m glad Brink got his ass kicked, he deserved it. But now I feel as if Frey is taking it out on me with his silence. I’m not sure why I care so much, but being stuck with
