Read Online Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) by Nazarea Andrews - Free Book Online
Authors: Nazarea Andrews
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watches, surprise
flickering across his face. “Well, you are a rarity—a fighter and a le,” he murmurs, taking in my
translucent, blue moth wings. Moth wings are rare—they usually morph into
butterfly at puberty.
And anything rare has more value.
“How much do you know about the Eleyi?” I ask, folding them back and
falling into the only chair.
Kristoff shrugs. “As much as you’d expect for a slave raised in the
jakta. Enough to be knowledgeable, but not dangerous.” He gets a wet towel and
hands it to me before he sits on the bed, watching me. “Do you have a name in mind?”
I shake my head. “I like my name.”
His lips twist, amused, “Your owner doesn’t. And that matters much more
than your opinion.” I glare and he laughs. “You’re going to be difficult to
break, aren’t you? You remind me of a slave we had from Ceren system. No one
expected anything from her. Ja Argot bought her to be beautiful fodder. She was
deadly in the arena, even though she was tiny. We called her Brielle.”
I let the name roll around in my head, taking its place. Except, it
doesn’t.
It feels alien and Other.
It’s not me.
Morning comes early in the jakta—or, the boarding house they use. I
blink sleepily as Kristoff dresses. Sitting up hurts. Everything hurts after
sleeping on the ground all night.
Something tickles the edges of my consciousness, the memory of a dream
almost forgotten. Juhan’tr, his spirit brushing mine at a distance that seems
impossibly far. I shove the thought down and stand, shrugging the silver wrap
around me. It’s dirty, wrinkled, bloody from my beatings. But for the moment, it’s
all I have to wear.
Breakfast is less formal than the night before—the new slaves are
mingled in with the mentors, and Argot hasn’t made an appearance. There is more
fish, spicy sausage, and poached eggs with a hearty bread. Fruit from across
the galaxy, glistening on top of a chilled cream. Kristoff quickly makes two
plates—far more food than I could possibly eat—and carries them to a small
table in the corner. A few mentors watch us, and I twitch under their invasive
appraisal.
Kristoff snaps his fingers and I jerk, my eyes darting to him nervously.
I can’t read him well enough to know when he’ll hit me, and it has me on edge.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says, pushing a plate at me. “They’re curious, and
you are being talked about. I’m not often given new slaves to train. And it’s rare to find a le in the auction
house. Ja Argot has a fondness for them. The best way to deal with their
curiosity is to ignore them.”
“Why do you call him that?” I ask, for lack of anything else to say.
“Ja? It’s a title on Pente—only jakta owners are called Ja. The master
trainer is titled Primus.” He grins and nods at my half eaten breakfast.
“Finish and we can get you away from all these voyeurs.”
I tune them out, ducking and picking at my food. I can feel their emotions—disgust,
interest, open lust—beating at me, more insistent than their eyes and I hurry
to finish, trying to ignore my twisting stomach. Kristoff still manages to
finish before I do and he sets his coffee down. “Let’s get you some clothes,”
he says, standing. The idea of being dressed is enough to get me moving. I
follow him quickly out of the room, and release a sigh of relief when we’re out
of the overfull dining hall. I bump into Kristoff when he stops abruptly after
three steps.
“Ja Argot,” Kristoff says, and I go still, my eyes darting up to look at
the man who owns me. Anger makes me shake, and I look down.
His eyes skim over me, and then slide to Kristoff. “What do you think of
her?” he asks.
Kristoff ducks his head, “Pardon, sir, but I have yet to test her. I
haven’t even gotten her clothes yet.”
Argot nods. “And her face?”
“A slight misunderstanding,” Kristoff says. Henri grunts and Kristoff
nudges me aside to let him stride past. I finger the diamond
flickering across his face. “Well, you are a rarity—a fighter and a le,” he murmurs, taking in my
translucent, blue moth wings. Moth wings are rare—they usually morph into
butterfly at puberty.
And anything rare has more value.
“How much do you know about the Eleyi?” I ask, folding them back and
falling into the only chair.
Kristoff shrugs. “As much as you’d expect for a slave raised in the
jakta. Enough to be knowledgeable, but not dangerous.” He gets a wet towel and
hands it to me before he sits on the bed, watching me. “Do you have a name in mind?”
I shake my head. “I like my name.”
His lips twist, amused, “Your owner doesn’t. And that matters much more
than your opinion.” I glare and he laughs. “You’re going to be difficult to
break, aren’t you? You remind me of a slave we had from Ceren system. No one
expected anything from her. Ja Argot bought her to be beautiful fodder. She was
deadly in the arena, even though she was tiny. We called her Brielle.”
I let the name roll around in my head, taking its place. Except, it
doesn’t.
It feels alien and Other.
It’s not me.
Morning comes early in the jakta—or, the boarding house they use. I
blink sleepily as Kristoff dresses. Sitting up hurts. Everything hurts after
sleeping on the ground all night.
Something tickles the edges of my consciousness, the memory of a dream
almost forgotten. Juhan’tr, his spirit brushing mine at a distance that seems
impossibly far. I shove the thought down and stand, shrugging the silver wrap
around me. It’s dirty, wrinkled, bloody from my beatings. But for the moment, it’s
all I have to wear.
Breakfast is less formal than the night before—the new slaves are
mingled in with the mentors, and Argot hasn’t made an appearance. There is more
fish, spicy sausage, and poached eggs with a hearty bread. Fruit from across
the galaxy, glistening on top of a chilled cream. Kristoff quickly makes two
plates—far more food than I could possibly eat—and carries them to a small
table in the corner. A few mentors watch us, and I twitch under their invasive
appraisal.
Kristoff snaps his fingers and I jerk, my eyes darting to him nervously.
I can’t read him well enough to know when he’ll hit me, and it has me on edge.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says, pushing a plate at me. “They’re curious, and
you are being talked about. I’m not often given new slaves to train. And it’s rare to find a le in the auction
house. Ja Argot has a fondness for them. The best way to deal with their
curiosity is to ignore them.”
“Why do you call him that?” I ask, for lack of anything else to say.
“Ja? It’s a title on Pente—only jakta owners are called Ja. The master
trainer is titled Primus.” He grins and nods at my half eaten breakfast.
“Finish and we can get you away from all these voyeurs.”
I tune them out, ducking and picking at my food. I can feel their emotions—disgust,
interest, open lust—beating at me, more insistent than their eyes and I hurry
to finish, trying to ignore my twisting stomach. Kristoff still manages to
finish before I do and he sets his coffee down. “Let’s get you some clothes,”
he says, standing. The idea of being dressed is enough to get me moving. I
follow him quickly out of the room, and release a sigh of relief when we’re out
of the overfull dining hall. I bump into Kristoff when he stops abruptly after
three steps.
“Ja Argot,” Kristoff says, and I go still, my eyes darting up to look at
the man who owns me. Anger makes me shake, and I look down.
His eyes skim over me, and then slide to Kristoff. “What do you think of
her?” he asks.
Kristoff ducks his head, “Pardon, sir, but I have yet to test her. I
haven’t even gotten her clothes yet.”
Argot nods. “And her face?”
“A slight misunderstanding,” Kristoff says. Henri grunts and Kristoff
nudges me aside to let him stride past. I finger the diamond
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