But he never had been. As soon as he’d been old enough to understand what he was, and even before, he’d known he had to be careful not to reveal what he was and what he could do… If anyone found out, he’d be hunted and killed like the rest of his race.
Like his mother.
Run, Ilar. He remembered her voice, and her hair, but not what she looked like. He’d been too small. Run like the wind and hide. Be careful.
He’d run, the sound of their door breaking down behind him. He’d run, the sound of his mother’s roar of challenge and defiance behind him. He’d run, the sound of his mother’s final bellow in his ears, imprinted on his memory.
He could never reveal what he was, not even to his Warborne brothers.
The bleep of the comp on his wrist drew his attention. Putting down his tankard, he flicked on the display. One of his seeker programs had been flagged.
He frowned as he read the notification. A new shipment of fighters had been delivered to Tarviisa. Even though he had long since earned his freedom from the pits, he was still reigning champion. More than that… some of his wins had included shares. So keeping an eye out was just good business practice.
Normally though, a new shipment wouldn’t have flagged any of his programs. Confused, he flicked open the manifest, watching a vid of the new slave-fighters being unloaded.
When a female trudged out, hands manacled in front of her, his eyes shot open. A growl rolled through him from the darkness within he dared not show anyone lest they discover his real nature, and he shot to his feet in shock.
The new shipment to the pits didn’t just contain a human female.
It contained Marika’s lost sister.