Free Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) by Gregory J. Downs

just…”
     
    “ No. You could have killed me, twice ,” Tressa said again, shaking her head as if Elia was a child too stupid to understand a concept.
     
    What does she…? Oh. Oh… the Ringfight. Elia was taken aback. It was true… she could’ve ended Tressa’s life, when she’d first had the chance. But she had won, and thought…
     
    It hit her like a punch to the gut. That’s what Gramling meant. I hadn’t learned… that you haven’t won until the enemy is dead. That you’re not safe unless you’re the only one left standing. She met Tressa’s eyes, and saw only one thing there: confusion. So the Kinn did not understand why she would spare a defeated opponent, and now she wanted to know the answer.
     
    “ Why do more?” Elia said in a low voice, half to Tressa, half to herself. “Why hurt someone more than I have to?”
     
    Tressa looked even more confused, but as the girl opened her mouth to respond, the creaking of the hall door interrupted her. Elia shivered, slipping off the platform and standing stiffly to meet her judgment. Would it be a Spine? Another Pit Strider? One of the Agrivors she’d heard about?
     
    The Malcyte had returned, sweeping in and trying to look as majestic as he could. It was obvious, though, that he was merely a herald: the figures behind him were far more imposing. Elia’s breath caught. One was Gramling, in black pants and boot, with an open black coat of leather studded with gold. His hair was its natural flaxen now… he must have stopped dying it. With the scars on his face and chest, and the curved blade at his side, he looked positively terrifying… but his companion was even worse.
     
    It was a male Kinn, but unlike any she had seen before. His black skin was so light it almost seemed gray, and instead of the customary raven locks, his head was shaved bald. Like Gramling, he wore a gold-studded coat… but it was white leather, with blood-red lines running down it. Instead of a sword, he bore a tall iron staff that split into four prongs at the top, which wrapped themselves around a small bleached skull, the origin of which Elia didn’t want to consider.
     
    The skull’s eyes glowed red.
     
    “ Lordyte,” Tressa murmured in Elia’s ear. “Six of them rule the Institution. All Striding. They rule it. Sorry,” and then she was gone, shuffling back to the other Acolytes, who seemed determined to press against the far wall of the hall as hard as they could.
     
    Elia knelt on one knee as the Lordyte drew near. His expression was impassive, but Gramling’s was one of sly amusement. Not good. Not good at all.
     
    “ Prostrate,” hissed the Malcyte, coming up to her. Elia was confused, until the junior Pit Strider turned and laid himself flat out on the floor of the chamber beside her. Oh. Gritting her teeth and quenching her pride, she did likewise. There was a silent pause, when all the world seemed to be listening to her breathing.
     
    “ So,” began the Lordyte, in perfect Treele Nymphtongue, “We have here a prodigy, do we? It is dangerous to be skilled here, pretty nymph.”
     
    Elia shivered, despite herself. The Kinn’s voice was like honey… thick and suffocating, hiding an angry barb of poison. Whispers interrupted the thought; it seemed Gramling was saying something quietly in the Lordyte’s ear. Elia shifted her face from the floor, hesitant, just as the tall Kinn spoke again.
     
    “ You are… special, it seems, Elia Treele. Even more so than I had assumed. You are no longer to be trained under the Spines.”
     
    What? Was this punishment, or favor? She couldn’t decide which sounded worse. “Th… thank you, my Master,” she said, nodding her head as far as she could while lying flat on the floor.
     
    “ Very good,” the Lordyte said. “You are not just more skilled than these scum… more polite, too. Malcyte Trekno?” The Malcyte beside her raised his head, eyes fearful.
     
    “ Yes, my Master?”
     
    “ You are to