Riot
Page 53
I nodded, about to lie back down, when I suddenly froze. “Maya,” I said quietly, purposely keeping my voice low.
Maya tipped her head to the side as she listened. I threw back my sheet and slid to the end of the bed. “I need to see Ilya,” I said, his name still sounding unfamiliar yet so perfect on my lips.
“No,” Maya said, and rushed to where I sat.
“I have to,” I said, and got to my feet.
Maya took hold of my arms and searched my gaze. “You can’t, miss.”
“Inessa,” I whispered, and I felt my chest released from a weight I hadn’t known I was even carrying. “Call me Inessa, by my name. I’m not ‘Miss’ to you. We aren’t separate anymore.”
Maya didn’t reply. She was silent, but her glistening eyes informed me of how she felt. “Miss—Inessa,” she quickly corrected, “it isn’t safe, you know that.”
I noted her concern, but Ilya’s name circled my mind. Releasing Maya’s arms, I walked toward the door. “I’m going. I need to. Ilya has a name. He had a life before this pit. He is someone. I have to tell him.” I lifted my hand to my heart. “Our names are part of our path to freedom. He has to know.”
Maya searched my eyes. Shoulders sagging, she said, “Stay here.”
Maya walked around me and opened the door. She looked back and said, “There are no guards. They are all guarding the guests, some are trying to leave after today.”
“So we can get to Ilya easily?”
Maya frowned but said, “It won’t be easy. But we can find an excuse if we need.”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t risk your life.”
“You can’t do this without me,” she replied.
“Maya—” I went to speak, but she cut me off.
“My life is forfeit every day. Any of the guards could decide to kill me, or take me against my will on a whim. More chiri die in this pit than the warriors and monebi combined. We are nothing to these people. If my life is in danger anyway, I would rather die in the cause of something good than under the hand of someone’s anger.”
“Maya,” I whispered, hating that this was her life.
Squeezing my hand, she slipped from the door and I followed behind. The hallway was unusually quiet. Keeping my feet as light as possible, I walked fast behind Maya. I kept my eyes alert, but there was barely a sound as we made our way to the champions’ quarters.
Ilya’s cell was dark when I approached. Maya opened the lock with the keys from her dress and she silently opened the door. A faint creak filled the barren hallway. I stilled, praying a guard had not been nearby. But there was nothing. Just silence.
I slipped through the doorway. Maya stood awkwardly behind. I reached back and pressed my hand against her scarred cheek. Her dark eyes looked up at me. “Go,” I whispered, but she shook her head. “Go,” I repeated. “Do not risk your life for me. I will say I left of my accord if caught.”
It appeared that she wasn’t going to move, but when I dropped my hand, she nodded in defeat and disappeared from the hallway. Steeling my nerves, I moved into the shadows of the room. I squinted my eyes, adjusting to the lack of light. One lamp was dimly lit on the far wall, blanketing the cell in a hazy yellow glow.
A quiet groan sounded from the direction of the far wall. I moved closer. On the floor sprawled a bloodied, naked Ilya. I rushed forward and bent down beside him.
My hands hovered over his huge body. I didn’t know where to touch him. I didn’t know where he was hurting. Sensing I was here, he rolled painfully onto his back. His blue eyes blinked up at me. His left eye was bruised and swollen. Dried blood stuck to his skin, and his hair was matted with blood and sweat.
Ilya inhaled, wheezing as he did so. My stomach dropped at how broken he appeared. This huge male, the undefeated champion, was now vulnerable. He stared at me. I wondered why, when his hand lifted and brushed down my cheek.
I lifted my hand and laid it over his to keep it in place. “Moy prekrasnyy?” he whispered, barely making a sound.
“Yes,” I replied, and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. This close I could see that the pupils in his eyes were dilated. “They drugged you,” I said, scanning his body to see where he was most injured.
Ilya moved his free hand to his chest, and I saw a small insertion. “They shot you with a drug pellet?” I asked. I suddenly frowned, wondering how I knew that the Wraiths did that. The vision of a young boy being shot with one came to mind. A black-haired boy. The one from my dreams.
“Yes,” Ilya rasped out, pulling my attention back to him.
Ilya’s hand twitched on my cheek, and he looked me straight in the eyes. “Last night … when you didn’t come to me.”
“He has forbidden any more contact with you.”
His jaw clenched. Ilya looked away, and I saw handprint bruises on his neck. My stomach lurched at how close he had come to death. I shifted to my feet and reached for his hand. Ilya threaded his fingers through mine, trusting me completely.
I helped him up and led him to the shower. I turned the handle and the spray came on. I shed my dress and proceeded to wash him down with soap. My hands ran over every inch of hard muscle; Ilya’s huge body was still uncoordinated with the aftereffects of the drug. I pressed kiss after kiss to his back and his shoulders, then moved to stand at his front.
Ilya’s head was bowed, and he watched me as I washed him. My hands smoothed over his torso and broad chest as Ilya’s fingers stroked along my dampening hair. I smiled peacefully as I washed the blood from his chest, his number tattoo coming into view. My heart raced as I thought of his name, of how to tell him that he had a name. Ilya took a long, deep breath, and I quickly looked up. At first I believed it was simply the water from the shower cascading down his face. But when I truly looked into his eyes, when I saw the gutting expression of sadness and defeat on his face, I knew that it wasn’t.
He was crying. Ilya, the Pit Bull, the champion of the Arziani death-match pit, was breaking down.
Reaching behind him, I switched off the shower. My stomach sank. Ilya’s eyes were downcast, and his arms hung weakly by his sides. Rolling onto my tiptoes, I placed my hands on his cheeks. Ilya blinked and met my eyes. When he did, my heart splintered at the tears trickling down his pale cheeks. His blue eyes were dulled with pain, the whites bloodshot from his sorrow.
Maya tipped her head to the side as she listened. I threw back my sheet and slid to the end of the bed. “I need to see Ilya,” I said, his name still sounding unfamiliar yet so perfect on my lips.
“No,” Maya said, and rushed to where I sat.
“I have to,” I said, and got to my feet.
Maya took hold of my arms and searched my gaze. “You can’t, miss.”
“Inessa,” I whispered, and I felt my chest released from a weight I hadn’t known I was even carrying. “Call me Inessa, by my name. I’m not ‘Miss’ to you. We aren’t separate anymore.”
Maya didn’t reply. She was silent, but her glistening eyes informed me of how she felt. “Miss—Inessa,” she quickly corrected, “it isn’t safe, you know that.”
I noted her concern, but Ilya’s name circled my mind. Releasing Maya’s arms, I walked toward the door. “I’m going. I need to. Ilya has a name. He had a life before this pit. He is someone. I have to tell him.” I lifted my hand to my heart. “Our names are part of our path to freedom. He has to know.”
Maya searched my eyes. Shoulders sagging, she said, “Stay here.”
Maya walked around me and opened the door. She looked back and said, “There are no guards. They are all guarding the guests, some are trying to leave after today.”
“So we can get to Ilya easily?”
Maya frowned but said, “It won’t be easy. But we can find an excuse if we need.”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t risk your life.”
“You can’t do this without me,” she replied.
“Maya—” I went to speak, but she cut me off.
“My life is forfeit every day. Any of the guards could decide to kill me, or take me against my will on a whim. More chiri die in this pit than the warriors and monebi combined. We are nothing to these people. If my life is in danger anyway, I would rather die in the cause of something good than under the hand of someone’s anger.”
“Maya,” I whispered, hating that this was her life.
Squeezing my hand, she slipped from the door and I followed behind. The hallway was unusually quiet. Keeping my feet as light as possible, I walked fast behind Maya. I kept my eyes alert, but there was barely a sound as we made our way to the champions’ quarters.
Ilya’s cell was dark when I approached. Maya opened the lock with the keys from her dress and she silently opened the door. A faint creak filled the barren hallway. I stilled, praying a guard had not been nearby. But there was nothing. Just silence.
I slipped through the doorway. Maya stood awkwardly behind. I reached back and pressed my hand against her scarred cheek. Her dark eyes looked up at me. “Go,” I whispered, but she shook her head. “Go,” I repeated. “Do not risk your life for me. I will say I left of my accord if caught.”
It appeared that she wasn’t going to move, but when I dropped my hand, she nodded in defeat and disappeared from the hallway. Steeling my nerves, I moved into the shadows of the room. I squinted my eyes, adjusting to the lack of light. One lamp was dimly lit on the far wall, blanketing the cell in a hazy yellow glow.
A quiet groan sounded from the direction of the far wall. I moved closer. On the floor sprawled a bloodied, naked Ilya. I rushed forward and bent down beside him.
My hands hovered over his huge body. I didn’t know where to touch him. I didn’t know where he was hurting. Sensing I was here, he rolled painfully onto his back. His blue eyes blinked up at me. His left eye was bruised and swollen. Dried blood stuck to his skin, and his hair was matted with blood and sweat.
Ilya inhaled, wheezing as he did so. My stomach dropped at how broken he appeared. This huge male, the undefeated champion, was now vulnerable. He stared at me. I wondered why, when his hand lifted and brushed down my cheek.
I lifted my hand and laid it over his to keep it in place. “Moy prekrasnyy?” he whispered, barely making a sound.
“Yes,” I replied, and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. This close I could see that the pupils in his eyes were dilated. “They drugged you,” I said, scanning his body to see where he was most injured.
Ilya moved his free hand to his chest, and I saw a small insertion. “They shot you with a drug pellet?” I asked. I suddenly frowned, wondering how I knew that the Wraiths did that. The vision of a young boy being shot with one came to mind. A black-haired boy. The one from my dreams.
“Yes,” Ilya rasped out, pulling my attention back to him.
Ilya’s hand twitched on my cheek, and he looked me straight in the eyes. “Last night … when you didn’t come to me.”
“He has forbidden any more contact with you.”
His jaw clenched. Ilya looked away, and I saw handprint bruises on his neck. My stomach lurched at how close he had come to death. I shifted to my feet and reached for his hand. Ilya threaded his fingers through mine, trusting me completely.
I helped him up and led him to the shower. I turned the handle and the spray came on. I shed my dress and proceeded to wash him down with soap. My hands ran over every inch of hard muscle; Ilya’s huge body was still uncoordinated with the aftereffects of the drug. I pressed kiss after kiss to his back and his shoulders, then moved to stand at his front.
Ilya’s head was bowed, and he watched me as I washed him. My hands smoothed over his torso and broad chest as Ilya’s fingers stroked along my dampening hair. I smiled peacefully as I washed the blood from his chest, his number tattoo coming into view. My heart raced as I thought of his name, of how to tell him that he had a name. Ilya took a long, deep breath, and I quickly looked up. At first I believed it was simply the water from the shower cascading down his face. But when I truly looked into his eyes, when I saw the gutting expression of sadness and defeat on his face, I knew that it wasn’t.
He was crying. Ilya, the Pit Bull, the champion of the Arziani death-match pit, was breaking down.
Reaching behind him, I switched off the shower. My stomach sank. Ilya’s eyes were downcast, and his arms hung weakly by his sides. Rolling onto my tiptoes, I placed my hands on his cheeks. Ilya blinked and met my eyes. When he did, my heart splintered at the tears trickling down his pale cheeks. His blue eyes were dulled with pain, the whites bloodshot from his sorrow.
