Chapter Seventeen – Needles

  Settie was in a foul mood for the next few days, and they didn’t go back to First Field, not right away. She thought it might be best to lie low until Freek and the rest of the people dealt more with the death of Sindara.

  Rynn was determined to send her father money. Settie had part of the puzzle—his name, but only Blythe knew where he was now living. From what Sindara said, it wasn’t a nice place.

  No one knew how Blythe was handling the death of her friend. Or were they even friends? Settie was sure that neither of those girls had a moral bone in their body. Maybe Sindara had a good excuse, but from what they knew of Blythe, she’d come from money, property, and prestige. Rynn said everyone knew Blythe and her family up in the Crown.

  They continued to meditate, eat ironbites, and train. They were back on the street out in front of Ruin Manor, so if demons did come, they could scurry inside.

  Gray continued to ruminate on how to get the magistrate’s plans for Soulshred Week. They were on Crewel’s desk; he was sure of it. In the meantime, not only did Settie buy ironbites from a local bakery in the Pit Market, but she also purchased a collection of different balls, which they started to practice with.

  Settie, surprisingly enough, knew how to throw a ball rather well. She had the round Sixblood ball, and she hurled it down the street where Gray caught it. Rynn, who always had such positive attitude, took to ball work with passion. Tomi was less enthusiastic.

  When they had a spare minute, and if the rains weren’t falling, they would go out and toss the ball to each other.

  Tomi would grumble the entire time. “So I travel to the ends of the world, risk my life in an insane series of tests, all the while living on hell’s doorstep, all to play a game I didn’t like when I was child. Not that I ever got to be a child. Somehow, I think I didn’t miss much.”

  Midj caught an oblong ball made of animal skin and then tossed it to Gray. “I had a great childhood. Fried snipfish at a Yullolly Festival. Tons of hearth presents. Playing with brothers, sisters, cousins and friends. Not a lot of responsibility—some, you know, running the restaurant but that too felt more like play than work.”

  Gray caught the ball. “I got to sweep a lot. When I wasn’t being beaten and in between passing out while a sadist tried to turn me into a living weapon. Childhood was wonderful. I had tons of pets. Mostly lice.”

  Gray threw the ball to Rynn.

  The elven girl winced. “I had lovely parents, and yes, I was alone a lot, but I still have fond memories.”

  The ball went back to Tomi. “I’m with Gray on this one. No sweeping for me, but there certainly were beatings. Nothing motivates like pain. Did you hear that, Gray?’

  “Oh yes.”

  Tomi laughed like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Listen to us, complaining. What do we have to complain about? We’re alive! How about we do death another day.’

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The captain came out of the manor. “Gray. You will come with me. Now.”

  Midj made all sorts of noise about that. “Ohhh. Someone is in trouble. Take your medicine like a man, Gray.”

  “Always.” Gray tossed her the ball and followed the captain inside. “I’m assuming this about my meridians.”

  She only shrugged. “Why else would I want to talk with you? Are you in trouble as Miss Munch claims?”

  “Not yet,” he said with a smile. “But you know me. I’m always up to something.” That would’ve been the perfect time to tell her about his plans to go poaching. Well, once he learned how it worked.

  He followed her up to her room. She’d set up a long table there, one long enough for him to lay down on comfortable. He saw there was a collection of needles on a tray on another small table nearby. A bloodless blade lay on the floor.

  “Stealing weapons from the training field?” Gray asked. “What would Mama Cinders say?”

  “No pleasantries,” the dragon woman snapped. “Strip to your underclothes. Get on the table. I’m going to check your meridians.”

  He tossed off his uniform, all the while admiring her view of the ruins. Far in the distance, he could see the top of the temple where he and Ames had tried to hide. Then, of course, near the horizon were the towers. It was late afternoon, but the light was already failing. Clouds were scattered across the faded sky. The sunset would paint them blood red.

  He sat on the table, staring up at the ceiling. He noticed the mural for the first time. It was a raven-haired woman in dragon armor, staring at a burning city. He recognized the scene.

  “It’s Cassandra, watching Caelvarum burn, before the Fall of Alastria. It was after Malchutt revealed himself and killed her parents.”

  “Princess Cassandra,” Settie snapped. “She’s long dead. Open your mouth.”

  “You and the princess look somewhat similar.”

  “Nonsense,” she growled. “Open your fucking mouth.”

  He did, and she placed a length of wood there.

  Then she went to his toes. She grabbed the big toe on his left foot and cranked it to the side. It hurt, but he didn’t complain. Maybe Settie could help him. It certainly would be better than poaching demons.

  “Bite down on the wood,” she ordered.

  He did as he was told. He tasted something, but it was too subtle to know what it was.

  “Now, precious Gray, concentrate on moving your mana down your left leg. Concentrate on my touch, on my fingers, feel me holding your toe.”

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  He did, but then he smelled her, and her scent was both comfortable and arousing. He’d smelled her on the dock, back when he’d been caught, and he had never forgotten it. Her smell was with him as she repaired his heart, gave him a core, and nursed him back to health.

  This was all rather familiar.

  Her touch felt good, and before he knew it, he felt the lust in his belly.

  She must’ve felt it too.

  She laughed a little. “Oh, you little devil. Thinking such naughty thoughts about your old sponsor. Stop with the lust, Grayson Fade, and channel the mana you do have. You don’t need any more.”

  He took a breath and then tried his best to move the energy down his leg. No. He felt stuck again.

  “Bite down harder on the wood.”

  He did, and then, yes, a cinnamon-y flavor filled his mouth. He thought of the cinnamon buns they had at the canteen. Why was breakfast so good there?

  Now he was getting hungry. He missed going to the canteen for breakfast. He missed being on the training field, seeing the familiar faces, and he missed the library in the pink palace. How was he going to get the plans?

  Then he was hungry again.

  His mind was all over the place. At least he’d let go of the lust. Now, though, he decided on stuffing himself that night. Midj was making meatballs.

  “By the slut gods of old, Grayson Fade, you’re not even trying.”

  He bit down harder, focused his mind on his breath, and then, imagined the warm energy in his core sliding down his meridians to his big toe, the one Settie was holding. But he didn’t feel anything different.

  He couldn’t talk because he was biting down on the cinnamon stick.

  “Very well. Let’s try this.”

  He felt the cold needle press against the flesh between his toes. Then the pain.

  He gasped at the pain. But yes, he was able to move the energy down. He felt it in his muscles, his skin, even his bones. His leg was filled with power. But it hurt. It hurt so badly, far worse than what Emilia had done to him. No, not Emilia, the Widow Stone. He had to keep things strictly professional between the two of them.

  Settie removed the needle.

  “Keep concentrating on the toe,” the dragon woman said. “Keep the meridians open.”

  She went to his right foot, and he about got off the bed, but no, he had to stay. He was trying to keep the energy in his left leg, but it was fading.

  The minute she pierced his right foot, it was easy to push the energy down to where the pain was, except, he started to gasp. It was agony. He was grunting. He was glad he had the wood in his mouth, or he’d have been screaming.

  “I know if fucking hurts,” the woman said. “I know. Just a little longer.”

  That was when the door was thrown open.

  Gray got up on his elbows to see who it was—but he knew.

  It was Rynn. “Stop this! Stop this right now! You’re hurting him!”

  Settie twisted the needle. “Oh, coming to stop me, are you? I would think you’d bring help. Well, girl, do your best.” She drove the needle in deeper and gave still another twist.

  It made him gasp in pain as he fell back onto the table. He was seconds away from kicking the dragon woman in the face.

  But then, Rynn was in the room with them, gripping his hand. He was latched onto her like his life depended on it.

  He looked up into her face. Sweat dripped off his face and onto the table. He was still pushing mana down his right leg but that same power of feeling in his left leg was gone.

  “You need to leave, Rynnanatha. Right now. I don’t need you weeping over the boy.”

  She turned. “I’m not leaving.”

  “I could make you.”

  Rynn’s mana flared. “You could try. I’m a very good fighter. And if you hurt or killed me, you wouldn’t be able to get your squad through the Soulshred. Then what would you do?”

  Settie sighed. “You’re not being logical, girl.”

  “I know about the kiss,” Rynn said.

  Settie yanked the needle out of Gray’s foot and threw it at the elf girl. “That kiss meant nothing. Nothing! It was to fix his fucking core. Maybe I should fuck him, in front of you. Maybe that would help us all. You with your envy and lust, him with his meridians, and for me, I would have a solution to this problem which shouldn’t even be a problem. His meridians are fine. This is maddening. And I’m so close…”

  Rynn wasn’t moving. “So close to what?”

  Settie laughed. “So close to winning. What else is there?”

  That was a lie. Gray was tired of the women arguing.

  He sat up and spat the stick out of his mouth. He was a little surprised at the amount of blood dripping from his foot and onto the floor. “That’s enough. I’m not going to be kissing our captain again, Rynn, I promise. And Settie, the Widow already did this. We know this works. I would wear needle shoes and gloves, maybe.”

  Settie grimaced. “Don’t be ridiculous. The pain would sap your strength. One can endure agony for only so long. There is one more thing I’d like to try, if I have your permission, princess.”

  “I’m not a princess,” Rynn said, unamused.

  Settie ignored that. “Stand up. Don’t worry about the blood.”

  He got on his feet, and felt the pain, which allowed him to channel mana into that leg. Looking down, he could see his leg glowing. That seemed like a good thing.

  “Give me your hand.” The captain had another needle ready. This one was the longest, thickest one of them all.

  He did. “Speaking of princesses, did you know Princess Cassandra?”

  “Oh yes,” Settie said sarcastically. “I’m thousands of years old, and me and Cassie were the best of friends. Actually, we were more. She fucked me within an inch of my life. She brought me so much pleasure, but then there was an equal amount of pain.” She threw an evil smile at Rynn. “Jealous, Rynnanatha? You’ve thought about the touch of a woman. I know it.”

  “That is none of your business,” Rynn said. “Don’t be evil.”

  “Oh, how many times have I heard that in my very long life? Me and Princess Cassandra and the fucking Troublemaker, having tea while an empire of dragons turned to shit around us. You can read all about me in Dan Ess’s A Song of Scale of Ash. Talk to that fairy bitch in the library about it. Sure, why not? Why not read about the past when your future—all of our future’s—are in such jeopardy?”

  Settie jammed the needle into Gray’s skin between his thumb and index finger.

  He hissed. It wasn’t just an ordinary needle, it was filled with some kind of dark mana. It hurt, but then, it was supposed to hurt. Instead of healing, it was inflicting pain, so much pain. Blood dripped from the wound.

  “Stop it!” Rynn shouted.

  “Fuck off!” The captain yelled back.

  Gray laughed. His head was swimming from the pain, but the whole situation was so ridiculous. “Rynn, I’m fine. We need to fix this issue. Settie isn’t hurting me on purpose.”

  Then Settie was laughing. “Oh, but I am. I love inflicting pain on those I love. Torturing your friends and lovers is one of life’s sweetest fucking pleasures.”

  The captain was even more unhinged than usual. Something was troubling her, but there was no way he could ask what it was.

  The dragon woman swept the bloodless blade off the floor and into his hurt hand. He grit his teeth as it pressed against the needle buried in his flesh. He was gasping.

  Rynn had tears on her face. There was so much worry and love on her face.

  Gray looked down at his arm—it was glowing with a golden light. He felt the energy in his muscles, which were bulging. He’d seen the arms of so many gladiators, swollen and gleaming with sweat. He had that same kind of body, but it was even better. His muscles were filled with magic.

  He felt the sword in his hand, and he could feel that the metal was empty in some strange way—as if the steel was half-complete. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his breath and the sensation of the mana in his right arm. He could push it into the sword. He could fill that empty steel with his excess energy. It would be like pouring water from a pitcher into a trough. No, it was more like a river, rushing form his core, and into a lake.

  A second later, the sword was buzzing.

  Opening his eyes, he saw it glowing. He swept the sword through the air, watching sparks fly form the blade. The room was filled with the sizzling, popping sound.

  He laughed, hardly feeling the pain. “Yes. I’ve been jealous of all those recruits, channeling their mana into the bloodless blades, and fighting. Now, I can. I just need to be tortured to do it. But what’s a little torture between friends?”

  Settie removed the sword from his hand and the needle from his skin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now, the two of you need to leave. Find Ames. Have her heal you. I’m sick of you both.”

  Gray dressed, and they left the room, but not before they heard Settie let out a single sob.

  Was it of frustration? Or was it something else?