Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Raven

The music was deafening, and her arms felt like lead. When had she picked up knives? What was she doing? Everyone was staring at her, their faces distorted. Where was she?

She glanced up and saw two men. One of them seemed familiar. Oh, right. From last night.

He was holding knives too. A duel? ~Well, this should be interesting.~ As she tried to move, her body swayed. She used the knife to anchor herself to the table, preventing a fall.

“Enough of this. She can barely stand, and my unit can’t handle any more of your antics,” Laro said, his gaze fixed on her knife.

“I have to agree. We’ll need to try this again somewhere safer, away from your precious belongings.” General Fleu laughed.

The song changed, and a familiar tune filled the air. The crowd shifted uneasily as the room began to vibrate. Everyone seemed uncomfortable, except for a few.

The vibrations steadied her wavering stance, counteracting the effects of the alcohol. She decided to go with it.

“Don’t back out now, we’re just getting started. How many blades are you using?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.

“When I win, I don’t want any excuses.”

She climbed onto the table and sat down. Her legs were exhausted, and she needed to conserve her remaining energy. Even from this position, she could win. She had a clear shot at his vital spots.

The throat was her best bet. A strike there would cause panic, speeding up the blood flow.

“Just one,” he said, grinning.

“First blood or to the death?”

“What’s your preference?” he asked.

“What do you do in the field?” she countered, returning his grin.

“Demonstration only,” Laro interjected.

General Fleu was well-trained, so she would need to target more than one vital area. Their anatomy was unknown; their organs could be in different locations than humans, or they might not have any.

The side of the throat, armpits, near the groin, and behind the knees were prime targets.

“Blood is sometimes drawn,” General Fleu admitted.

“That’s true. Sometimes it’s unavoidable,” Raven responded, giving Laro an innocent look.

The crowd murmured in agreement, and Laro’s brow furrowed. His concern was unnecessary. She would use the drunken fist technique; her unpredictable movements would throw the general off.

She would take him down and make it look like an accident. A nagging feeling told her not to, but she ignored it.

“Drop your shield so I can finish this. I’m tired,” she said, swinging her feet.

“Would you give up an advantage?”

“Haven’t I already? It’s okay to know your limits. You’re way ahead of General Hokji,” she said, maintaining eye contact.

“You want praise for fighting with basic skills? If you can’t aim, just admit it,” he retorted.

A wave of chatter swept through the crowd. General Fleu’s eyes left hers, and she seized the opportunity.

***

Laro

“This is why we test in the lab. If something goes wrong, we can choose not to report it. But when there’s collateral damage, it’s impossible to hide,” Fleu said, swallowing two pills dryly.

“I’ve spoken to everyone, and they’ve agreed to keep quiet,” Laro said, adjusting the bandage on his shoulder. “They all have their own secrets.”

It took some persuasion and a few threats, but all the guests saw things his way. He covered the medical expenses of those caught in the crossfire. His unit was a mess.

His table would need to be sanded and polished.

“I’m not paying for it.”

Laro handed him the bandages. “For the cleaning bill? Yes, you are. That’s a white fur rug covered in blood from at least six different—”

“If this gets out, you’ll answer to the king, all three of you,” Fleu said, heading for the door.

“I figured as much.”

Laro and Raven made a formidable team. They anticipated each other’s moves; their synergy was explosive. She focused on offense, and he took care of defense.

They lost, but their teamwork showed promise. Laro smiled and went back to cleaning. He swept up the shards of glass and debris and scrubbed various spills off the floor.

As he was putting away the last items, he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps from the hallway.

“Do you have anything for the pain? My head and body hurt. Why am I wrapped up like a mummy?” Raven asked, holding her bandaged arm.

“You and General Fleu had a competition,” he said, setting out water and pills.

“Did I win?”

That depended on her definition of winning. From Laro’s perspective, it was a no. But in his book, it was a big win for them. By not winning, things had ended in their favor.

Fleu had seen what he needed and agreed to keep everything off the record, under two conditions: If the truth came out, they would take the blame and leave Fleu out of it, and Raven would stop drinking.

“If you consider this a win,” he said, gesturing to the wrecked room.

“Don’t blame me for your wild party habits,” she said, downing the entire cup in a few gulps.

“Hurry up and get ready. I was supposed to drop you off at General Dhol’s hours ago,” he said.

“He’s not going to be happy with you.”

“Don’t worry, I plan on blaming you for that,” he said, smiling.

Laro managed to avoid Dhol’s wrath for being late and for Raven’s injuries after he explained the situation. To his surprise, Dhol was quite receptive to the no-drinking rule.

Almost relieved, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Laro felt an unexpected squeeze in his chest as he steered his car out of the driveway. He and Raven held each other’s gaze until they physically couldn’t. He wondered, ~Will this ever become less painful?~