Gates of Thread and Stone

CHAPTER 29

BY THE TIME I neared the open street, the free roll of bread had been joined by a package of sweets and a pear.

“Nel!”

I twisted around. Avan was weaving his way through the crowd, looking both worried and amused.

“I see you’ve been productive.” He looked at my full hands.

“They gave these to me,” I said, and followed him toward the street. “I couldn’t give them back.”

“And here I thought I was special,” he said.

When I realized what he meant, my face grew warm. “I guess I’ve learned not to turn down free food.”

“I don’t blame you. Looks a lot better than what they served this morning.”

“You can have them,” I said, pushing the bread at him.

He shook his head. “You’re not supposed to leave the hall. Didn’t you read the rules? What are you going to do if we’re expelled?”

I had read the rules. Just not all of them.

“You left, too,” I pointed out.

“I’ve never had very good judgment.”

Once we were safely inside the arena lobby, I let myself relax and considered the food in my hands. “I wonder if I could mail this to the Labyrinth.”

“Would they even eat it?”

My neighbors in the East Quarter were notoriously suspicious, especially of anything and anyone outside its claustrophobic walls. Usually, that was a good thing. “Maybe if it came with my name on it.”

“Probably not a good idea to broadcast where you are.”

“Fair point. Guess you’ll have to help me finish it, then.”

I dropped off the sweets and fruit in my room but took the bread with me. Avan and I shared it on the way to the training center, and we agreed it was the best bread we’d ever eaten. Even the bread delivered daily to Avan’s shop was a few days old and sometimes bordering on inedible.

The bakeries sold fresh bread only to those living in the Upper Alley, the sort of neighborhood Tariza had come from. Once the bread grew stale, they sold it to the rest of us for twice the amount of credits.

The training facility was made up of a series of rooms, closed off from one another to maintain privacy between teams. We found Grene’s and Tariza’s names written on the door of Room 8 and went inside. Two horizontal wooden beams were mounted in the center. Grene stood balanced on top of one, twirling on one foot, her arms poised over her head. She did a neat flip along the beam, her body bending like a blade of grass. If I tried to bend like that, I’d break. Tariza, meanwhile, did one-handed pull-ups on the other beam. His bicep and neck muscles bulged.

“Glad we’re not fighting them,” Avan said, echoing my earlier thoughts.

I laughed. It drew Tariza’s attention as he dropped to the floor and massaged the corded muscles in his arm.

“You’re awake!” Grene said, flipping off the beam and landing on her feet.

Avan must have told them I’d gone for a nap. “Yeah. I need to warm up for my match.”

“Me, too. Let’s spar. I’ll bet you’re really good.” She led me over to an open space near the wall.

Avan and Tariza went off to spar on the opposite side of the room. Avan almost looked excited.

Grene was a good fighter. She struck and then danced out of reach, as fluid and slippery as a fish.

She wasn’t as fast as I was, but it still took all my concentration to block her kicks. I hit back with only partial effort. I didn’t actually want to hurt her.

“So you and Savorn were childhood friends?” Grene asked, blocking my punch. She slid sideways, leg arcing up in a kick. I caught her leg and shoved, but she was too nimble to lose her balance.

“Yeah,” I said.

She beamed and darted back in. “You joined the Academy together? That’s so sweet.”

Even had that been the truth, I didn’t see what was so sweet about it. And anyway, she had the wrong idea about me and Avan. Maybe.

“I guess.”

“It’s great that you guys made it so far,” she said in that perky voice. “I mean, how generous is it that the opportunities of Watchmen are given even to those of your standi— Oof!”

My fist connected with her stomach. She flew back, skidding across the floor, blond hair flying all over her face.

I immediately felt guilty. Because of where she grew up, Grene couldn’t help thinking the way she did. I hurried over and knelt at her side. “Are you okay? I—”

“Great hit,” she said, grinning up at me as she rubbed her stomach. She winced. I felt even worse. I helped her up. “Again?” she asked.

“I’m going to head to the prep room,” I said. “You guys can stay here and train if you want.”

“No way. We have to come support you,” she said, patting down her hair. “Guys!”

Avan and Tariza were circling each other, their expressions intense. I couldn’t tell if they were taking their sparring seriously or if they were angry about something. It must have been the first one, because at Grene’s shout, Tariza broke into a smile and slapped Avan across the back.

The whole way to the prep room, my heartbeat felt as if it was trying to shatter my rib cage. I rubbed my palms against my pants before I entered the room and scanned the occupants.

Reev wasn’t there. Disappointment replaced my anxiety. Three sentinels I didn’t recognize waited near the exit doors.

On second thought, I was glad Reev wouldn’t be overseeing my match. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with his eyes on me, pretending he had no idea who I was.

When my time arrived, the Watchman sent me through the doors leading out to the arena floor. This arena was different from Avan’s, which had been plain, packed dirt. Trimmed grass and a circle of hedges made up our fighting field. At the opposite end of the green stood a tall, wiry boy. He smirked when he saw me.

I used to like being underestimated. It kept me and my secret safe. But now I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

In the viewing box behind me, Avan and the others appeared.

“Knock him off his feet, Nel!” Grene shouted. Maybe she wasn’t that annoying after all.

“Match number thirty-nine: Nel versus Muree.”

When the bell sounded, the boy didn’t hesitate. He charged across the field.

He threw his entire weight into his attack. I dropped low and drove my knuckles into his stomach right beneath his ribs. He grunted, bending over, the breath leaving his mouth in a sharp gasp. I kicked out at him.

His hands caught my foot and jerked me forward. I wasn’t as nimble as Grene; my other foot slid out from under me. I threw both arms up to protect my face, but his fist planted in my gut instead.

He released me, watching as I fell to my knees, panting.

“You’re not so bad,” he said, grinning. He circled me. “But now we’re even.”

I glared up at him, turning my head to keep him in sight. His leg drew back. I rolled away, shoving to my feet as another kick grazed my hip. His attacks came fast, each blow pushing me back. I staggered and then ducked left.

His heel kicked my shoulder, and I grunted as I hit the ground. The threads vibrated around me—tugging, tempting. I ignored them.

His foot came down again. I let it, gritting my teeth as his heel connected with my chest. Then I swung up and rammed my fist as hard as I could into the side of his knee. Muree cried out and toppled over with a loud oomph.

Show me you’re better than this, Mason’s voice echoed in my ear.

I may not have come here to win, but I didn’t come to get my ass kicked, either. I scrambled to my feet. Before Muree could recover, my foot smashed into his face.

He slumped over, groaned, and didn’t get up.