Page 61 of Taken to Nobu
Nodding robotically, I return to Pe’ixal’s body, that red smear of a corpse, and one-by-one, I remove all thirty-two of his plates. I don’t know how long it takes me. Moments. Half a solar. All I know is that the sky is at its brightest as I rise, gather all of Pe’ixal’s bloodied bits to my chest and drop them at Kinan’s feet, where I too collapse.
Kinan dives at me. It comes as an attack, his lips on my lips. He kisses me feverishly despite the blood and in public view of everyone. His body rolls against mine and if I had more blood in my body and more space in my head to think, I might have done more than just lie there, waiting for whatever will happen next to happen.
He grabs my arm and I gasp, pain spearing me and waking me from the spell he has me under. “Xok,” he curses — the first time I’ve ever heard a curse from him. “You did well, Kiki. You just rid this cosmos of a bad male. No one will ever suffer at his hands again.” He grabs the tattered front of my suit and pulls me into a sitting position. “I will prepare a merillian bath for you.”
“Nox.” I shake my head and grab his wrists, smiling giddily as my face and shoulder begin to throb. “I think three times a virgin is enough.”
Kinan smiles and I laugh. I laugh and he laughs and soon, Jaxal is at his shoulder and so is Miari and so is Svera and Tre’Hurr and Ka’Okkari and my mom. Even Krisxox makes an appearance as Kinan pulls me onto my feet.
“Not bad,” Krisxox says, what sounds like begrudgingly, “for a human.”
I lift my middle finger in his direction and I don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitches, releasing a smile I’m guessing he wished he hadn’t. “Alright,” I say, panting now as I try to take my own weight and failing at it. “Let’s go home.”
I start to turn, but Raku’s voice projects over the messy throngs. The outline of the arena is no longer visible. There are just beings and bodies and white and copper. “We are not finished yet with the trials. We still await the outcome of the trial of Lisbel, the former hasheba to the Va’Rakukanna.”
I burst out laughing. “Fuck. I forgot about Kuaku.”
“You do not need to remain for this. We should seek medical attention.”
“Medical attention should come here. I’m not going anywhere,” I pant.
Kinan curses again —that’s twice now —and issues a few orders before settling me on a chair in his lap. Soon, I have a female I’ve never met before, but have heard lots about from Svera at my shoulder, holding up some kind of ray gun to the wound on my arm.
“I’m Lemoria,” she says.
“I know,” I answer. “I’m Kiki, Va’Rakukanna of the Voraxian Federation and the Xhea of Nobu.”
She smiles. “I most certainly know, and will not ever forget.”
Kinan’s face is radiant light, having settled on a brilliant orange, where it’s chosen to stay.
Meanwhile, a misshapen circle has reformed and Pe’ixal’s body has been dragged away somewhere where it will be buried in an unmarked grave and appropriately forgotten. The sight of his blood on the arena floor, and his dismembered plates laid out before me, coupled with the taste in my mouth makes me feel less like a human and more like a barbarian. But Kinan’s forehead still shines and his arms continue to cradle me.Proud. And that’s what I feel now. Limitless, like the Xanaxana’s unforgiving energy, coursing through my body. Pain is nothing to that.
I struggle to focus as Lemoria calls over another Voraxian, someone called Ki’Lemoria, who rushes around and follows her commands, stitching and patching and spraying and raying. They have me seated on a chair now, Kinan’s arms fixed around my frame.
“Why were there xub’Okkari holding you?” I ask as Kuaku shuffles into the arena, head bowed.
Kinan nuzzles my neck. Places his hand to my stomach. Pulls me up against his thighs. “It was all I could do not to storm into the tribunal after you. I know what I said, but my body fought me at every turn. Watching you was the most glorious torture.”
I kiss him deeply, the taste of the oasis overwhelming me and blotting out the taste of my own blood — until I hear a cry. Alone now in the center of the arena, Kuaku stands with her hands pressed over her mouth, horror scrawled in violent colors in the ridges above her eyes.
Raku’s booming voice carries as he says, “If none will step forward to act as Lisbel’s champion, then she will be forced to take up a weapon herself. If there is one here who will accept to champion for her, then they must step forward now.”
The pitch is silent. Lisbel is shaking. Our eyes meet briefly and I know that if I weren’t so badly injured, I’d have accepted to champion for her. She doesn’t deserve exile. She doesn’t deserve a hevarr. Not even a bitch like her. Or even a bitch like me.
I open my mouth to say something — anything — to delay Raku’s next words, when all of a sudden, a throaty groan rises up on my left. I glance past Lemoria’s body to see Jaxal on one knee, both fists planted into the ground. He’s shaking his head, eyes clenched tightly together, shoulders heaving.
“Fuck the sun,” he damn near moans, and when he looks up — straight at Lisbel — he shouts, “I’ll champion for her.”
Lisbel is staring at him, eyes huge, forehead white. And then the other colors come. “Are you…” she starts, but for once it looks like she’s at a loss for words.
Jaxal rises and though it looks like it pains him to say it, he grunts, “Yeah. I’m your Ziv-whatever. Your mate. You’re not fighting today, and you’re not going into exile.”
I’m the first to react, and I do so with a laugh. It belts out of me carelessly, euphorically.Whatever drugs Lemoria is feeding me in those ray guns…keep ‘em coming.“Comets and stardust,” I say, “What a xoking time to be alive.”
20
Kinan
