Now that the issue with the kitchen had been resolved, Kira could focus on other matters. Like figuring out why the emperor was really here.
“Of course, you’ll have to do something for me first,” Maksym drawled.
Kira should have known nothing would be easy where the oshota was involved.
“This is my ship. I shouldn’t need to jump through hoops to have my orders followed.”
“True, but this is a gift. One you wish to return. That requires a toll be paid.”
“A gift I didn’t ask for,” Kira pointed out.
“You could always return the rooms to their original state yourself,” Maksym suggested, regarding Kira with the steady gaze she recognized from training with him. If he said he wouldn’t help, he meant it.
Kira could force the issue. When it came to physical skills, they were evenly matched. Unfortunately, Maksym was much more skilled when it came to fusing soul’s breath into his fighting style.
A battle between them could easily get out of hand and threaten the structural integrity of her ship.
“Let’s hear it,” Kira said, giving in. For now, anyway.
Maksym should just wait. Soon they wouldn’t be stuck inside a metal can and she could go as crazy as she wanted.
They’d see then whose will was stronger.
Maksym motioned for her to hold out her hand. When she did, he set a smooth, oblong shape the length of a sword’s hilt in her palm.
“What’s this?” Kira asked, frowning at the item.
She squeezed, the smooth surface biting into her hand. The grip was surprisingly comfortable. As if it had been created with the size of her hands in mind.
Maksym took the hilt from her as a soft glow ran through the tiny grooves she hadn’t noticed before. Fine lines raced across the surface. Metal unraveled, a sword extending from the hilt, the same glowing lines that were on the hilt wrapping along the metal of the sword’s length as well.
“When you can do this, I’ll return the kitchen to its original state.” Maksym flicked his wrist, the sword disappearing into the hilt as if it had never been. “That is if you still want me to by then.”
He returned the hilt to her hand as Kira stared at it in surprise.
“What is this? Is this a type of en-blade?” Kira lifted her head to find Maksym disappearing down the corridor. “Wait. Aren’t you going to explain how you did that?”
Torvald leaned over, plucking the hilt from her hand. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Not since I was a yer’se.”
Golden lines threaded through the metal as it extended into a sword a little longer than Kira’s arm.
Torvald admired his work before dismissing the sword.
“It’s not an en-blade. It’s something much rarer but just as good.” Torvald handed the hilt back to Kira. “The akieri has fallen into disuse because of the amount of control and concentration you need to operate it. Most warriors prefer the en-blade because it can be used even when you’re low on ki.”
Kira understood what he was saying. Without the ki that its wielder inserted into the en-blade, its efficiency might go down but it could still cut. The akieri couldn’t make the same claim. Without a constant input of ki, it was nothing but a hunk of pretty metal.
“Sounds perfect for you, Kira,” Raider said from his position at the counter as he finished preparing his coffee. He tossed the spoon he’d used to stir in the creamer and sugar that weren’t Kira’s into the sink before heading in her direction.
“I’m heading to the bridge. For what it’s worth, I think Maksym did a nice job,” Raider said, sweeping a glance over the kitchen. “You should keep it this way.”
Raider took a sip of his coffee, making a pleased expression before ambling out.
Torvald stepped into the kitchen. “I was told your connection with others was tenuous but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“No, you were told right. I resist anyone getting close,” Kira admitted, following him. She could see the confusion though. “Raider has the advantage of knowing me longer than most.”
Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t pretend at a distance with him. Their history made that impossible.
