Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"Neither do I." Nestor absently resumed his sketching. "But, you know, we can't give up."

Kiram spied Rafie working his way down to the second level of the stands with Alizadeh only a few steps behind him. No doubt they had decided to collect him immediately after the third year duels ended. They seemed to think that they had won the whole argument about him leaving already. And there Javier was, acting as if Kiram had already left when they still had a week to fight for him to stay. His lackluster capitulation suddenly infuriated Kiram and the ensuing rush of anger was a relief from his earlier feeling of rejection.

He'd been so distressed and confused today that he'd lost sight of what it was that he needed to fight for. Yfes, he wanted to stay with Javier but there was also his friendship with Nestor and his goal of being the first Haldiim to graduate from Sagrada Academy. He wanted to honor Yassin Lif-Harun, who had been killed before he fully proved himself. And he had sworn to help Scholar Donamillo to save Fedeles-a matter of life and death.

This wasn't just Javier's fight. If he wanted to have one night and then give up he could, but Kiram wouldn't.

He wondered if all endurance was this simple. Whether it was physical pain or complex calculations, a person had to push through it if they wanted to win. Winning just had to matter more than exhaustion or hurt. Kiram thought of how Fedeles kept fighting even though a curse tortured him relentlessly. Compared to that, a disapproving uncle seemed manageable.

Kiram searched the stands for Fedeles and found him in the Quemanor family box along with his father, sister and grandmother. He returned Kiram's gaze as if he'd been waiting for Kiram to look at him all day. He grinned and waved wildly. Kiram smiled back at him and gave a brief salute with his right hand.

By the time the third-year students entered the dueling ground, the sun had broken through the clouds and humid warmth filled the gold pavilion.

"We'll see some real fighting now," Nestor commented.

Despite Kiram's disgusted frustration, he couldn't help but look up when Javier's name was called. He watched as Holy Father Habalan used a small dagger to open a shallow cut in Javier's wrist and then administered several drops of a black fluid to the wound. Javier grimaced as the holy father bound his wrist and then laced his gauntlet over the wound.

Kiram stole a quick glance to Rafie and Alizadeh, to see what they made of the holy father's ministrations, and found Rafie openly scowling at the sight, disgust plain on his face while Alizadeh shook his head sadly. Good. Let them see what Javier endured and then still refuse to help or even allow Kiram to try.

Javier strode across the filthy arena and took his circle. Despite the poison, he held the ring five rounds without seeming to even break a sweat. Only after the fighting was done, as he and the other third-year champions left the arena, did Javier offer Kiram a warm, longing smile that sent a rush of desire through him. Then Javier bowed his head and went to the benches with Elezar.

Seconds later Rafie and Alizadeh swooped down on Kiram, intent on escorting him throughout the rest of the day. Kiram introduced them to Nestor, who joined them out on the fairgrounds. Shortly after that Riossa and her friends flounced around them in a giggling cluster of silk and ribbons. Nestor's imposing mother, Lady Grunito, and her five attendants manifested moments later. Kiram began to feel like he was walking in a parade. He smiled, because he could see from Rafie's set expression that he had not planned to spend the afternoon in this manner, but had no way of politely extricating himself without leaving Kiram.

Lady Grunito stood as tall as Alizadeh and had a large, angular body which neither her flowing silk skirt nor her velvet coat could soften. Next to her, Rafie looked even more boyish than usual. His delicate features and slender body were only emphasized further by his white hair and muted, Cadeleonian clothes.

"My son Nestor speaks quite highly of your nephew Kiram." Lady Grunito gazed down at Rafie like a hawk contemplating a rabbit.

"I'm glad to hear that Kiram has made a good impression, but I think he might be a little too young to be attending the Sagrada Academy. He's been more sheltered than most boys his age, I think."

"More sheltering is rarely an antidote for too much in the first place." Lady Grunito gave Kiram a piercing glance and then cocked her head just slightly at Rafie. "And to be honest, your nephew seemed to do quite well for himself out in the arena today. He certainly held his own with the other students."

"He stayed on the grounds longer than me," Nestor admitted easily, though he stole an uncertain glance at Riossa. She just smiled at him and then stepped a little closer to him, under the pretense of showing him the drawings in her small sketchbook.

While Lady Grunito continued to lecture Rafie on the value of a Sagrada Academy education, Nestor and Riossa walked close together, discussing inks and brushes and seeming oblivious to everyone else.

Alizadeh complimented Riossa's friends on the perfumes and flowers that they bought from vendors. The girls blushed and smiled nervously; obviously unsure of how to behave toward a Haldiim they fell back on emulating Lady Grunito's polite demeanor.

For his part, Alizadeh never stood too near any of the girls, nor did he speak with any of them too long. Often he simply walked quietly beside Kiram, watching the sky.

"Is something wrong?" Kiram spoke in Haldiim but still kept his question to a whisper.

"No." Alizadeh's gaze moved through the crowd of fairgoers and brightly-dressed vendors. "It is all very normal, as if the shadow had never fallen here at all. He knows we're looking for it. I wonder how he hides it so well and where?"

Kiram couldn't even begin to guess the answer to Alizadeh's question and was distracted from thinking about the matter by the breathless whisper of one of Riossa's friends.

"Look, it's the Duke of Rauma." The thin girl pointed with a quick flick of her lace fan.

Javier strode through the crowd with Elezar and Morisio. Atreau followed a little behind them, a young woman with long, loose hair and a low cut dress clinging to his arm.

"He looks so brooding," another of Riossa's friends murmured. "I'd be terrified to be introduced to him, much less make conversation."

Kiram thought Javier looked bored and tired.

"They say he glows in the darkness with the light of the white hell," the girl added.

"He doesn't glow or breathe fire or eat people's souls or anything else you've heard." Kiram watched as Javier pushed Elezar off him. The muerate poison was still hurting him; Kiram could tell from the stiff way he moved his right arm. Javier paused for a moment and turned as if he could feel Kiram's attention.

At the same moment Kiram became acutely aware of both Alizadeh and the surrounding clot of girls observing his study of Javier.

"He's just a man," Kiram said as offhandedly as he could. "Some nights he even snores."

The girls laughed in an excited and scandalized manner.

When Kiram glanced back through the crowd, Javier had slipped out of sight. Kiram tried not to feel disappointed that Javier had not come to join them.

It wasn't long before Rafie made his apologies to their companions and led both Alizadeh and Kiram away, explaining that he needed to see to Kiram's injured arm. Kiram hadn't thought Rafie had even noticed but he'd obviously been wrong.

In their small, warm room at the Laughing Dog, Rafie carefully cut away the leather laces and then peeled the blood-caked gauntlet off of Kiram's left forearm. Kiram flinched when he saw the jagged red wound, with its tattered black stitches jutting pointlessly up from his flesh. The skin was swollen and feverish red. Mottled green and black bruises discolored the rest of Kiram's forearm.