King of Lions, Page 2

  ~

  In the morning, when Keaton rolled over in bed, his hand fell on a smooth and pleasantly sculpted arm. He opened his eyes and saw Rosetta’s crimson hair laid out like a fan on the pillow next to him. She was facing away from him, the blankets bunched up around her waist, her top half naked in the midday sun. She had bruises on her ribs and arms where he had struck her during their fight. He stared at her for a long time, marveling at her slim, efficient perfection. His brain went back and forth from man to fighter, man to fighter, and he found he could appreciate the view from both angles.

  “Did we really do this?” she asked, still facing away from him.

  Keaton was surprised to find that she was awake, her breathing had been so regular.

  “I think we did,” he said.

  “How are your bruises?” she asked.

  “I didn’t get hurt during our fight, remember?”

  She sat up and stared at him from under her hair. “I’m not talking about our fight.”

  Keaton laughed, embarrassed at himself.

  “We had a round four after all,” he said.

  This time Rosetta laughed. “Our poor bodies.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Anything but alcohol,” she said.

  They talked over breakfast, mostly about their fight, breaking it down move-by-move. Keaton found that he remembered some parts a little differently than Rosetta did. When breakfast was over, they sat over the empty dishes and talked for another hour or so before ending up back in bed.

  They laid there afterward and talked about Keaton’s house, how huge it seemed to Rosetta, how she had grown up poor in a big family, that fighting was her only real shot at making a life for herself. Keaton talked about life in the church, growing up in Angamor’s Academy, doing month-long patrols with the Guard, the differences between ring fighting and putting down Sandits—desert warlords and their men—outside the city walls of Urn. Rosetta told him she had never slept with a fighter before, and Keaton said he hadn’t slept with anyone since winning the Lion’s Class Crown.

  Then they talked about their fight again.

  ~

  The land surrounding Urn had a big sky, the sort of sky that made everything else feel small and superfluous. It was difficult to see from inside the city walls, but out on the dunes the sky threatened to swallow everything with its size and grandeur.

  Keaton hadn’t brought anyone to his spot on the cliffs above the lake since his father passed away—except for Emerick on a few rare occasions when Keaton had needed to talk. This was his special place, the place he had come to talk Theology with his father, to discuss what it meant to be alive, to be a friend, and a swordsman.

  Now Keaton had brought Rosetta with him. She stood on the gentle cliff and stared down at the lake. She had dressed in women’s clothing, only the scars and definition in her arms hinting at what she really was. The wind pulled at the robes as she stood watching the water, wrapping the loose cloth around her like a banner draped over a statue.

  Nearby, the Bralla they had ridden sat basking in the sun like hairless, orange-and-black camels, lying on their sides to soak up the sun with their scaled skin.

  “Can we go swimming?” Rosetta asked. The way her hair moved around her face made it difficult for Keaton to find his voice. He had found her striking from the moment he saw her, then alluring when she had made advances, but it wasn’t until this moment that he realized he found her beautiful.

  “I don’t think swimming is a good idea,” he said. “Blue Pilikia.”

  “Blue what?”

  “Pilikia. It’s an aquatic scorpion. Deadly poisonous. It migrated here when the first southerners made their way north from Oolau. They didn’t have any natural predators, so they kind of took over.”

  “Like the Mau Oolau style,” Rosetta said. “If you don’t know a little Mau Oolau, you’ll get your leg broken in the first round. Even if you do—” She lifted her robes to show the bruises on her thighs. “Well, you remember.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her.

  Rosetta’s face grew hard. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t start treating me like a girl.”

  “You are a girl.”

  “I’m a top ten Fox Class swordswoman. If I win my next fight, I’m likely to face the Queen of Foxes herself. Don’t treat me like a pretty thing that will break if you drop it.”

  Keaton smiled. “If you were going to break, you’d have done it last night.”

  “You’ll just have to try harder next time.”

  And Keaton realized suddenly that he very much wanted there to be a next time, a next anything with her.

  Keaton strode over to the lounging Bralla and dug through one of his saddle-side totes. He returned to Rosetta’s side with two light training swords and two shields.

  “What is this?”

  “I get itchy if I don’t train,” he said. “And besides, you’re going to be fighting against the Queen of Foxes. I dare you to find a better sparring partner than the King of Lions.”

  Rosetta took the sword and shield. “You’d do that for me?”

  “You want to win, don’t you?”

  Rosetta gave him a look. “You know I do.”

  “Show me how badly.”

  ~

  Two weeks passed. Keaton returned to training camp a few days behind schedule, and it took some time to get back into a rhythm. For one thing, he had been sparring so much in Orthodox style with Rosetta that Riddance—his bread and butter—now felt secondary and strange. His sparring partners were stronger than he expected, and a few times he found himself inside their reach when he thought he was outside of it—because he would have been outside of it fighting Rosetta. He still dominated every sparring session, but that cold sense of being untouchable had slipped. He felt mortal again.

  The second day back, Keaton retired to the bath house after practice to find Emerick waiting for him in the hot springs. Emerick’s normally cheerful expression was haunted by some emotion he seemed to be trying to conceal. It looked like disappointment. Or fear.

  “Emerick,” Keaton said. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my friend?”

  Keaton wasn’t really in the mood for a conversation. Training hadn’t gone well again—a little better, but not enough—and he was feeling frustrated.

  “I love you, brother,” Emerick said. “You know that. I’ve said it, and now I’m going to say what I have to say.”

  Keaton nodded. “Okay. Let’s have it.”

  “You’re slipping.”

  Keaton threw his hands up.

  “You’re slipping,” Emerick said. “I can see you’re slipping. The other guys can see you’re slipping.”

  “I’m not slipping,” Keaton said. “I’ve been sparring every day with Rosetta for two weeks.”

  “And how many days have you been in here with your training partners?”

  Keaton sighed. “Today and yesterday.”

  “Ancients in the sky, Keats.”

  “What?”

  “You think Mantis is taking days off?!”

  “I’m not taking days off,” Keaton said. “I’ve been training with—”

  “Rosetta,” Emerick said. “I know. Everybody knows. The Parchments know.”

  Keaton hit the water angrily. “Well, who the hell told them?!”

  “Don’t splash me.”

  “It’s just water.”

  “Don’t splash me mad.”

  “I’m not mad.” Keaton sat down and put his head in his hands. “I’m—I don’t know what I am.”

  Emerick put a hand on Keaton’s shoulder. “Nobody told them anything. That girl spent half the night in your lap at my retirement party. Two fighters trading spit after just fighting each other? That turns heads.”

  “It’s not their business,” Keaton said.

  “Listen to you. Making excuses. Telling me your business isn’t the public’s business. You’re Mr. Publi
c, brother. You’re the least defensive, least private person I know. What’s going on with you?”

  Keaton thought about it, and to his horror felt tears threatening to come into his eyes. “I’m afraid, Em. I’m afraid somebody is going to take her away from me.”

  “Rosetta.”

  Keaton nodded. “You don’t know what’s it’s been like, to be with her. It’s like I’m—”

  “Not alone, but not having to perform either. Like she’s one of ‘you,’ not one of ‘them.’”

  “Exactly,” he said. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

  Emerick sighed heavily. “Shit, you’re in love.”

  “I know.”

  “This is bad, brother.”

  “I know it is,” Keaton said. “She’s got a fight in three days. Three days, Em. Against Terra, for the chance to fight the Queen of Foxes.”

  “Terra’s a tough chick,” Emerick said. “She does Orthodox better than most.”

  “I just wanted to get Rosetta ready. She’s improving so fast, it’s unbelievable. She’s a sponge. I show her something, she tries it three times, and she’s got it down. And the next time we spar, she’ll use it on me.”

  “That’s the thing, brother,” Emerick said. “She’s sparring with the best opponent she’s ever faced, and you’re sparring with the second or third ranked girl in the Fox division. It’s not about talent—she’s just too damn light for the sparring to mean anything. She doesn’t take up space the way these Lion guys do, can’t muscle you the way they do.”

  “I know all this.”

  “Then know it! Because I guarantee you, Mantis is training with the biggest, baddest cutthroat savages he can find. He’s telling everybody how you’re looking past him, training with ‘some girl’ out on the cliffs, and how he’s going to take your head and pitch it into the nosebleed section. And if you don’t focus, he’s going to do it, Keats. He’s going to do it.”

  Keaton stared at his feet under the water for a long time. “You’re right.”

  “I’m right?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Damn right, I’m right.”

  “I need to focus on Mantis.”

  “You do.”

  “Okay,” Keaton said.

  “Okay.”

  Keaton stood up.

  “Pleasure talking with you,” Emerick said. “Get some good sleep. Don’t let that foxy Fox keep you up all night.”

  Keaton smiled, then stopped in the doorway. “You’re doing it again. You’re always trying to protect me.”

  “That’s what brothers do for each other, Keats. Train hard tomorrow. Train well.”

  “I will, Em.”

  “And tell that lady of yours thanks from me.”

  “For what?” Keaton asked.

  “She might be getting in the way of your training, but she’s taking care of your heart. I don’t know what I’d do without Maya to take care of mine.”

  “Tell your lady thanks too, then.”

  “That will make her happy,” Emerick said. “She’s still kinda pissed that I Cloud Tethered my youngest across our den.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Broke an expensive vase. It’s a whole thing.”

  ~

  The Dome was packed for Rosetta’s fight, something that usually didn’t happen for non-title, Fox Class fights. Scandal sold tickets, it seemed.

  Keaton climbed the winding stone stairs to his seat with a knot in his stomach, trying to focus on his surroundings, watching the light move over the scalloped grooves in the stone walls, carved millions of years ago by the larva of the long extinct insect species that had made the Dome. He tried to think about where he was, not where he wanted to be. He wished he could give Rosetta guidance during her fight, call out directions to her, but that wasn’t allowed. With the exception of the referee, the swordsmen and swordswomen were alone from the moment the ring rose into the air until the fight was over.

  Keaton didn’t only want to guide Rosetta, he realized. He wanted to fight in her place, to end Terra’s life with a swift heart strike and be done with it.

  When he reached his viewing balcony, Keaton sat in the middle of the twelve seats reserved for the King of Lions and his guests. Tonight, though, Keaton was all alone in the box. He had kept his word to Emerick for three days, not to spar with Rosetta until his fight with Mantis was behind him. He had seen her twice since then, and hadn’t been able to resist giving her a few rushed pieces of advice, which she had accepted with stern nods of agreement. The break in sparring actually worked out well, with Rosetta peaking physically and needing a few days of lighter training to replenish her strength before the fight.

  Which was happening right now, Keaton reminded himself.

  A fresh wave of nerves passed through him, and he blew them out in a slow rush of air, the same breathing technique he used to deal with pain and fatigue. As if his breath had summoned them, the band began to play and the announcer shrieked introductions into the hollow of the Dome. The swordswomen would be walking out any moment.

  This was harder than actually fighting. Much harder.

  The introductions seemed to pass in a blink, and Keaton found himself watching the ring rise until it was level with his viewing balcony. He could see Rosetta, only a few hundred feet away, but unreachable as the moon. She was calm and focused, but there was fire in her eyes. Once, as if she felt him watching, Rosetta turned to look at him and nodded. She wasn’t his lover now; she was his pupil, signaling her master with confidence. “I’m all right,” that look said. “This bitch is dead.”

  Then the fight began, and Keaton lost himself in the action. Rosetta immediately took the center of the ring. Her stance looked good, much more balanced than it had only weeks before. She took small jabs with her sword, kept her shield high. Like most of her fights, Rosetta planned to bleed Terra out. She landed a few shots, mostly to the arms and body, enough to send blood trickling down Terra’s legs, but not enough to finish her. Terra was calm, notoriously difficult to frustrate, but he and Rosetta had prepared for that. Rosetta would need to stick to her game plan, fight her fight, and keep control of the space in the ring. So far, things were going well.

  Halfway through the round, Terra landed a shield bash that sent Rosetta flying into the ring wall. Smelling blood, Terra charged, ferociously slamming her sword down on Rosetta’s shield. Still dazed, Rosetta went to a knee.

  Keaton jumped out of his seat. This was how many fights ended, with one opponent overwhelmed and the other pressing the attack.

  Out of nowhere, Rosetta shifted her weight and delivered a strong kick to Terra’s knee, a Mau Oolau move. Terra’s feet, slick with blood, slipped and she fell forward. There was a scramble, and both fighters got clipped with small shots. Rosetta’s shield arm was bleeding, but she was on her feet. The kick had been a gamble, but it had paid off.

  “Ancients in the sky, Rosetta,” Keaton said, pulling his hair. “Don’t do that to me.”

  Both swordswomen squared off again, but this time Rosetta held her sword behind her, a Riddance stance instead of Orthodox. Terra circled, looking for an opening. Rosetta barely moved. When Terra came in for an attack—just a quick thrust, more of a feeler than a real attack—Rosetta exploded forward and ran her sword through Terra’s heart.

  The crowd went crazy, and Keaton thrust his fist into the sky. He had taught her that counter-thrust, and she had executed it perfectly. Rosetta raised her sword and walked the perimeter of the ring as it lowered to the ground. The crowd grew silent as Rosetta knelt by Terra’s body and put the sword she had dropped back into her hand. There was no greater show of respect for a fallen opponent.

  Keaton walked down the stairs, listening to the winding corridors warp the sound of the crowd into a seashell echo. The thrill of victory had faded into an aching realization: Rosetta had won her fight, but barely. The kick and the killing thrust had won the fight, and he had worked with her extensively on both.

  She w
on’t be ready for the Queen of Foxes, he thought. Unless I train with her.

  When Keaton walked out onto the floor of the Dome, Rosetta smiled at him, a brilliant, girlish smile. She edged past the Parchment writers surrounding her, the crowd parted, and she ran to him. She jumped onto him, wrapped her arms and legs around him and squeezed until his ribs hurt. When she kissed him, he tasted her blood. All around them, charmed charcoal sticks scratched the moment into parchment.

  “I love you!” Rosetta yelled.

  The crowd cheered and whistled.

  “But you knew that,” she said.

  “I hoped,” Keaton said, smiling.

  Then the Order doctors were worrying after Rosetta, and Keaton stepped back to let them tend to her wounds. Representatives for the various Parchments and Speakers asked him questions and he answered. Yes, he and Rosetta were in a relationship. Yes, he was very impressed with her performance. Yes, he was very prepared for his fight with Mantis.

  It worried him that this last felt like a lie.

  “What do you think about the announcement,” one of the writers asked, “that Rosetta is set to fight the Queen of Foxes in just over a month?”

  Keaton was confused. He hadn’t been able to understand the announcer while he was in the corridors, and had missed the announcement.

  “Doesn’t the Queen have at least one more fight between now and then?” he asked. “Rosetta should have at least 12 weeks preparation time.”

  "Shinen was next in line, but she was injured in training,” the writer said. “Rosetta is stepping in to replace her. What do you think of the match up?”

  Keaton felt cold. “I think Rosetta is ready for anything,” he said.

  This also felt like a lie.

  Keaton looked through the mob of people and stared at Rosetta. She was sitting on a stool, eyes closed as the Order doctor stitched up her arm, preparing to seal the wound using the Current. Rosetta looked so small sitting there.

  He had to train her, and he had to beat Mantis. So he would do both.

  ~

  Afterward, at his home, Keaton lay in bed with Rosetta. Their lovemaking had been gentle tonight—Keaton had assumed they would not do it at all, but Rosetta had insisted.

  “Does it ever bother you?” Rosetta asked, lying in the moonlight. “Killing in the ring?”

  He almost told her what he told everyone else. That he was a professional, and it wasn’t personal. Instead, he told her the truth.