Every afternoon, Allyra would put up a cursory protest, before succumbing and allowing the women to prepare her for dinner.
Dinner with Jason was a special type of torture.
Conversation consisted of the two of them dancing around the edges of truth, constantly maneuvering – trying to learn as much about the other while holding on to as many of their own secrets as possible.
It was exhausting.
And she learnt almost nothing about Jason. The only facts she’d managed to discern could be counted on the fingers of one hand, almost as if he was tempting her, rewarding her with a single piece of knowledge for every night she sat facing him across the table.
Allyra liked lists, they were organized and logical, and so in her mind she made up a list of ‘Facts about Jason’.
Fact 1: He was an orphan. Though this was still questionable – she had no supporting evidence and very likely he was just trying to get her to pity him.
Fact 2: He was smart. Engaging in mental gymnastics with him over dinner was more draining than a three-hour chemistry final.
Fact 3: He was funny. Not conventionally funny, but he had a dry, bitter sense of humor. The kind that had you constantly questioning whether you were the butt of his jokes and had completely missed it. The kind that made you question whether he was constantly having a laugh at your expense.
Fact 4: He was ambitious. This was probably his defining characteristic. Allyra knew something about ambition – that gnawing need in the pit of your stomach, the crawling under your skin, the thing that forced you to get up before the dawn and stay awake well beyond what was healthy. But she was pretty sure the monster that drove him forward was well beyond anything she’d ever known.
Fact 5: She didn’t really know anything about him at all and that fact might just get her killed in the Arena.
Everything changed on the fifth night. She was draped in silver, material so light it might as well not have been there, flowing like mist around her. She wondered if the color had been chosen to match her eyes – whatever the reason, it was almost enough to make her beautiful.
At least that was what she’d thought when the women placed her in front of the mirror. So it was a distinct hit to her ego when Jason barely spared her a glance as she walked in.
He stood to pull out her chair as he’d done the previous four nights. Without asking, he filled her glass with wine, and topped up his own glass.
“To us.” He said mockingly and held up his glass.
Allyra hesitated and he shot an annoyed glare at her.
“It’s rude not to raise your glass.” He snapped.
She arched her eyebrow at him, but obediently touched her glass to his. The crystal kissed together with a silvery clink and she took a small sip from her glass.
Jason drained his.
He didn’t speak much through dinner, making none of his usual attempts to manipulate information out of her. Allyra refused to dwell over his sudden change in mood – she was grateful to let her mind rest and just enjoy the impressive food.
Jason had apparently taken a page out of Master Marais’ book, enjoying a liquid dinner as he drained glass after glass of wine while staring at her appraisingly.
Finally, Allyra stood up, after licking the last bit of pinot ice cream from her spoon – she’d devoured her own portion and stolen his, which he hadn’t touched. In fact, it was questionable whether Jason had even noticed the food being set down in front of him.
He tried to stand with her, but wobbled desperately before regaining his balance with a drunken smile.
“Thank you Allyra, for that wonderful and engaging dinner.” He slurred, “The conversation was simply enchanting.”
She grabbed him by the arm as he threatened to topple over. “Whoa sailor.”
Jason shrugged her off and immediately stumbled to the side. “I don’t need your help.” He said indignantly.
She smiled surreptitiously. Drunken Jason was rather endearing. She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine – the real entertainment of the night is about to happen anyway and I want to make sure I get a front row seat.”
Jason looked around the room, then closed his eyes as he wobbled again. “What entertainment?” He asked piteously.
Allyra took pity on him. “Why don’t I show you?” She said before taking his arm again.
This time he allowed her to lead him to his bed. She dropped him heavily on it – he’d basically passed out on the way. She tried to peel his jacket off, but he was the worst combination of a dead weight and uncooperative child – trying to brush her off whenever he was conscious enough to do so. Eventually she managed to extract his jacket and snake his tie off. She also pulled his shoes off, but decided that was quite enough – she didn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of him.
As Allyra stood up to leave, Jason’s arm shot up and grabbed her, pulling her back down, his fingers digging into her wrist. She very nearly rewarded him with an elbow to the nose; he was only saved when she felt razor sharp splinters of his regret and desperation. It was sour, like vinegar on the tongue and in the dim light; she could make out his tormented expression.
“How am I supposed to live with it? How will I ever make it right?” Jason asked frantically.
Allyra peeled his fingers from her wrist gently.
“Don’t worry – hangovers don’t last more than a day at most, even if you’ve just swallowed your own body weight in wine.” She replied lightly.
He grappled for her hand, hanging on to it like a life preserver in a stormy sea. “Please. Please tell me how?” Jason paused, his dark
