Page 77 of Shielded in the Shadows

Jarrix’s low rumble became a growl. He clearly didn’t like even the thought of me disappearing without a trace. I didn’t care much for the prospect either.

We spent the next few hours reviewing Byx’s files on Orqiel, the Aiphelevia, and the Liktarr syndicate. I read everything about Orqiel, most of the information about the Aiphelevia where he lived and worked, and a little about the Liktarrs—enough to ascertain that despite his title, Orqiel didn’t have much in the way of authority or power within the syndicate. Good. That meant when he turned up dead or vanished without a trace they weren’t likely to invest very many resources looking into it.

According to Byx’s intel, as High Beastmaster, Orqiel managed everything to do with “non-sentient combatants”—in other words, animals from across the galaxy brought in to fight and die for the arena audience’s entertainment. The practice was illegal on all Alliance worlds, but Saistea didn’t belong to the Alliance. None of its laws applied there.

The only laws on Saistea were those enforced by the Liktarr syndicate. Credits, cunning, and brute force ruled.

By the time we’d finished reading, Lumos was certain enough that we weren’t being tailed to put the Vespira into shadow mode, engage the cloaking system, and leave the Mborsi-bound shipping lane in favor of a route that would take us out of Alliance space and directly to Saistea.

In sixteen hours, we’d arrive at one of the most dangerous syndicate-run worlds. It would be a colossal tactical error not to consider how many threats would surround us from the moment we got within scanning distance of the planet’s orbital defense systems, but I had difficulty thinking about anything except Orqiel himself.

What would I say to him once I had my dagger at his throat?

There would be little point describing how much I’d endured in the arena—he already knew. If suffering mattered to him at all, he wouldn’t have been such an enthusiastic participant in what transpired on Ganai, much less attempted to build new, worse arenas on Forval IX or become High Beastmaster at the Aiphelevia.

No, I wouldn’t waste my breath telling him about my pain. If anything, Orqiel might actually enjoy hearing about it. Everyone I’d ever met associated with the arenas was sadistic. The procurer who’d bought Calla and me from our mother was no different.

All I wanted from Orqiel was an explanation for the bounty and for him to cancel it.

And then what? Kill him quickly? Take my time and make him suffer? I had a feeling I knew which option would get Jarrix’s vote.

I supposed the way Orqiel would meet his gods might depend on the reason he was seeking me in the first place. One thing I was sure about was that it wasn’t to make amends—as if that would be possible. Beings like Orqiel didn’t seek absolution.

“I hear you thinking,” Jarrix murmured into my hair. “Talk to me.”

“I know there’s no peace at the end of this,” I said instead of recounting my internal debate over what I’d say once we found our target. “It didn’t bring me any relief when the arenas burned, even when I imagined Orqiel and my keepers and everyone else who’d hurt us dying in the flames or the riots. If tomorrow I shoot him through the heart or take off his head and then mount his horns on my wall, I don’t think it will change how I feel or make the memories any less terrible. I won’t sleep any better.” I drank the last of my coffee and set the mug aside. “All I can hope for is to find out why he posted the bounty and get it taken down. I don’t think I’ll even care if I kill him. In my head, he was already dead.”

“Then your peace will come from somewhere else.” He reached for the coffee carafe sitting in the cockpit’s galley nook. This ship was by far the most luxurious I’d ever traveled in. “More?”

I held out my mug. “Please.”

As he filled it, he added, “Killing Orqiel once you’ve gotten what you need from him may bring you some unexpected satisfaction. But even if it doesn’t, it will be long-deserved justice for what he did to you and to many others.”

“Maybe so.” I raised one shoulder in a little half-shrug as I blew on my coffee, which was clearly imported directly from Bacora and very excellent. “But if he hadn’t bought me, someone else would have. That someone would have sold me for a profit, probably opted for a share of my winnings and made me a pariah among the other gladiators. Orqiel’s a symptom of a disease, not the disease itself. And the disease can never be eradicated as long as beings thirst to watch violence and credits can be made. I think…” I chewed my lip. “I think it doesn’t matter if I kill him or not. It won’t change anything. My life and all the others he affected will still have unfolded the same way. And they’ll choose another High Beastmaster within a day. The Aiphelevia will grind on.”

“But it will grind on without him.” He cradled my head to his chest with one warm, strong hand. “He will no longer have any power over anyone. He will no longer use up breathable air or further the goals of the syndicate. He will no longer piss me off with every single breath he takes.” The last sentence came out almost as a snarl. His chest vibrated against my cheek. “And with every one of his kind we remove from the equation, the machine wobbles a little more. Just because it hasn’t toppled yet doesn’t mean it won’t. On the day you left Ganai, did you believe the arenas there would burn only a few years later?”

“No.” My voice was soft. “I would have bet every credit I had to my name that they never would.”

“Then it is good that you held onto those precious credits.” He kissed the top of my head. “We’ll resolve the bounty, Captain, and dispose of a blight on the galaxy. Then we’ll return to Trakhan, settle matters with the GAIS and my former crew, and resume your illustrious smuggling career with the new additions of a highly capable first mate and an adorably lethal ship guardian.”

Despite everything, that drew a laugh out of me. “Zwee is adorably lethal.”

His lips moved to my ear. “Would you stab me if I said I find you adorably lethal as well?”

“No.” I tipped my head back and drew him down for a kiss. When our lips parted, I murmured, “But I would shoot you.”

He grinned, displaying those gorgeous fangs.

“Captain, it is unadvisable to discharge a plasma weapon aboard a vessel,” Lumos said. “Should you miss your target⁠—”

“She doesn’t miss,” Jarrix said, his gaze never leaving mine. “But your concern is duly noted.”

The deliberate silence that followed was the AI equivalent of a huff.

Jarrix took the datapad from me. “Thanks to Byx, we have fairly detailed information about the Aiphelevia and the area around it, including Orqiel’s quarters. Let’s locate the best locations to set the ship down and then plan our entry and exit strategies. After that…” His tail slid up my leg to squeeze my thigh. “I have plans for us, my mate.”

“Making use of that very large bed in the crew cabin?” I guessed.