Page 35 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
Maybe he would agree to dance with her after the procession. He’d stepped on her feet last time, on the island, but all he needed was practice. He could be so graceful in the water; surely some of that grace could translate to land activities.
“Will the champions come to the ballroom afterward?” Mai asked.
“No, they are usually discouraged from mingling at public events until the Brawl,” Feral replied. “There’s a healthy rivalry between my father’s captains, and letting the champions wander through the crowd is a ripe opportunity for one captain to poison another’s champion, or wound them in some way.”
“A ‘healthy’ rivalry indeed,” Mai said dryly. “Have you ever sabotaged another captain’s vessel or champion?”
“Of course.” Feral leaned in, bringing his mouth close to her cheek. “You see, little scientist, it is like this—there is no law except strength. Everything exists for my use, for my pleasure or power. I am the predator. I crave, and I consume. That is how I remain Prime Captain, first in my father’s fleet. And that is how, one day, I will rule the empire he has built.”
“An empire built on the backs of enslaved people.”
“The weak were made to serve me,” Feral answered. “If they do not have the sense to bow willingly, or the strength to protect themselves from me, they deserve to be subjugated. I take the treasures I want, and the people I want.”
Mai’s heartbeat stuttered at the threatening power surging from him.
“You look concerned.” Feral’s eyes glinted. “Be at ease. You and yours are in no danger of losing the Meridian Games and being sold into slavery. My brother has a hale, hearty crew, does he not? No cripples or halfwits among them? And he has the cutthroat instinct to succeed in this competition, yes? A fantastic design for a racing ship, an invincible champion, plenty of weapons, lots of experience with hunting human prey? So you have nothing to worry about. You’ll be sailing on your merry way within a few weeks.”
Mai’s stomach sank lower with every phrase from his mouth. She knew the struggles of Flay’s crew, their difficulties and differences. And Flay himself, brave as he was, she could never describe as “cutthroat.” There was no design for the racing ship yet, and though Rake was savage, she wasn’t sure he could be called invincible.
Until then, she hadn’t let herself picture the results if Flay didn’t place among the top three of the Games. Slavery for the whole crew—including her and Kestra. Flay would be forced to serve on Feral’s ship. Rake could escape to the sea, but for the rest of them, there was little hope of avoiding the auction block. They couldn’t leave the island and make for the open ocean with theWind’s Favorin such poor condition, and she doubted any other ship would risk the Magnate’s ire by taking them on board.
There was truly no escape but victory.
“The champions’ procession is beginning,” Feral whispered. “We will see if you and your brave crew have any cause to worry.”
A man in a puffy doublet and tight pants marched out onto the stage and stood in the center. He unrolled a long sheet of paper and began to read from it. “The champion of theEstrence, for Captain Cinux.”
“They’ll start with the unfavored,” Feral muttered to Mai. “The ones least likely to win.”
“Who decides that?” she whispered back. But he motioned for her to be quiet, and she forgot to be miffed about it because a boulder of a champion stalked onto the stage.
She thought the champion might be a woman, judging by the comparative size of the chest, but she couldn’t be sure. Every muscle was carven, rocklike, the texture of hewn stone, with oddly crisp edges. A plated hunk of scaly skin hung over the creature’s groin.
Mai realized her mouth was open and closed it hastily.
“Impressive to look at,” Feral said. “But too big and cumbersome to be much good in a fight.”
The rock-person stood facing the crowd for a moment before clumping away.
“Next we have the champion of theCrested Morel, for Captain Halfair.”
“Can the same champion compete multiple years in a row?” Mai whispered.
Feral shook his head. “It must be a different champion each time. I have a reputation for securing the best.”
The next champion was an extremely hairy man whose genitals were contained in a sort of leather pouch that waggled embarrassingly as he walked. He didn’t seem to care. He hooted and roared at the audience, raking them with his wild gaze through mats of tangled hair.
A dozen more champions appeared, all of them more or less human, and most of them heavily muscled. A few caught Mai’s attention, including a woman with coppery skin and orange braids like whips that seemed to move on their own, and a man whose lithe body whiplashed across the stage in a series of impressive flips.
“Now we come to the more interesting fighters,” Feral said in an undertone, as the announcer called, “Next we have the champion of theForsaken Ghost, for Captain Morghas.”
At first, there didn’t seem to be anyone walking onstage—just a watery disturbance in the air, a scrap of cloth fluttering. And then the skin of the fighter changed color, and there she was, clad in the barest scraps of material. Her skin shifted to variegated rose, then striped blue, then leafy green, while the crowd roared their surprise and approval.
“Camouflager from the Carlet Isles,” said Feral. “I brought a skin-shifter to the Meridian Games a couple of years ago. Nearly lost that year, too. They’re flashy, and they draw a lot of backers, but if they’re not skilled fighters they’re useless.”
The skin-shifter continued across the stage, and the announcer proclaimed, “The champion of theWind’s Favor, for Captain Flay.”
Rake strode onto the platform, turned to face the crowd, and stood motionless beneath the gaslights. The golden studs in his sharp ears glittered, and the pale expanse of his chest lifted with each breath. The crowd gasped, because he was so obviously, beautifully inhuman, from the bluish shadows highlighting his abdomen and his long powerful arms, to the deepening blue of his fingers and the sharp talons at their tips. His long indigo hair swayed, shimmering as it caught the light, swirling to brush his hips where the gold belt clung around the waist of his loose dark pants. He blinked enormous liquid eyes, his gaze tracing the crowd. When his eyes found Mai, he gave a wicked grin, showing his triangular teeth. The audience gasped again, and whispered conversations broke out across the room.
