“With you?” Sims asks. I think he means it sexually, but she blows off the insinuation.
“Was going to introduce you, but he wandered off.” She turns to me and holds my eyes for half a second. The message is clear enough:Shut up and don’t contradict me.She shrugs and stares Sims down. “He’s got a good arm and he’s a white forte. You’ve been looking for one.”
Sims gives me the standard up and down. How classic, I’m being summed up in a glance. “He doesn’t seem like the fighting type.”
“That’s what you first said about me, too.” Jaya gives him one of those long stares, primal and unnerving. Unspoken sentences flow between them as they maintain eye contact. I want to understand what they’re saying, to see the memories burst forth in their heads about a past in which this girl, this Belwarian peasant girl, came here and requested to fight. And she’s still a fighter, still here tonight knocking out a wizard who has dubbed himself Ax.
Sims breaks eye contact and says gruffly, “Fine. If his arm is so good I’ll put him against Beckman. He’s been itching to taste new meat.”
“Beckman? You drugged, Sims? I wanted you to meet the guy, not kill him.”
What in Wickery have I gotten myself into?I calm my face. Can’t let any uncertainty through, or else I’m going into the ring with death.
“Best I can do on short notice,” Sims snorts.
“Fine, I get it. But I just wanted you to take a look at him. We can come back next week.” Jaya seems relieved for a second, not in her voice, but something about her shoulders unwinds from tension. She is working a trap or a plan, something that Sims is obviously falling for.
“You know that’s not how it works. He came here to be seen? Then he’s going to fight,” Sims says.
“Fine.” Jaya smiles. “Let him have my second fight—Tenson. And next month I’ll take Beckman.”
Sims’s whole demeanor transforms. A black happiness bubbles inside him. I can see it sweat out of him like sludge. “You and Beckman?”
“Me and Beckman.”
Sims’s mouth does this weird half smile, half frown, like he’s weighing these options on his lips. He rubs his hands together. “I need time to publicize that.”
“That’s why I’m saying a month.”
“All right, deal,” Sims says as he thrusts out an eager forearm.
“I still get my payment for tonight.” Jaya jams a thumb at me. “I get his contribution too.”
Sims glares at me as if he forgot I was still standing there while they negotiated. “Once I see he can still stand afterward.”
Jaya turns to me. Now she’s the one summing me up in a glance.
“No problem,” I say before she can cast any doubt or give Sims more leverage.
“I won’t be cheated, Sims, either way.” Jaya presses her arm against his. “That’s the only thing you can count on.”
Sims pokes a finger at both of us. “You’ve got thirty minutes. I like to be impressed.”
Interacting with Sims is like watching someone try to peel off your skin. You want to scream, to yank away, but either action means more torture. He is not Vencrin, but he works for them, allowing the Underground to be a meeting place and a way to funnel drug money into the system. Because of my hatred, our relationship is…strained. So getting myself involved in anything beyond our agreement is risky. But then I saw him, the guard who carried me when I burned out, being confronted by Sims.
I don’t know why I wanted to save Jatin’s man. Well, I guess actually I do. Jatin and I were bonded, or would be. His man was my man. The resemblance between them is uncanny too; it makes me feel as though letting one be destroyed would kill the other. If I don’t fight for my people now, what good am I as a future rani? Besides, I know what would have happened if I left Kalyan to Sims. He would have been beaten in the alleyway, three or four against one. Those were the odds that had been stacked against Riya’s father. And this had all started because of what happened to him. I won’t chance that happening again, to anyone, especially Jatin’s friendlier counterpart. So I cloak myself in a thick skin and trade myself, my fight, so his blood won’t be spilled on a dirty street.
The actual trading isn’t so bad. I thought I would probably have to offer up something big like that to find out about my firelight and Nightcaster’s involvement. But now my plan hinges upon this guard’s ability. Already the lack of control pokes at a level of anxiety I haven’t felt since my first night here.
Sims walks away in the direction of his office. Or he might be heading to scout out Streak and Thunder, who are near the end of round one. A bell dings in the background and the audience’s roars quiet down.
I turn to Kalyan, who is staring at me.
“Thank you. I—” he begins.
“Not here. Follow me.” I walk in the opposite direction of Sims, toward the locker rooms. The noise of several fighters flits down the hall. This is going to suck. The others are never happy about fresh meat without some sort of announcement by Sims.
“Don’t say anything,” I whisper to Kalyan, before pushing through the curtain.
