Kursha took in a sharp breath as Rasali stepped off him. The air that rushed into his lungs was tangy and sweet. It was with some shame that he felt a sense of relief. Rasali had his rifle, but he was still breathing. That was a good thing. It would have been very easy for her to splatter his brains over the pavement, so as far as he could tell, she had no intention of killing him. Otherwise she would have done so already... he hoped.
With a great deal of effort, Kursha lifted his head and pushed himself upright. Blood dripped down from his chin. His face stung, his shoulder ached, his back screamed. That was nothing compared to the number done on his pride though. He had almost won.
Almost. But she had ripped that out from underneath him. Slumping over one knee, he look towards Rasali and her lusus with baleful eyes.
If she did not want him dead, than what
did she want? To hear an apology? For him to say that she was right? Just the thought had Kursha's insides tied up into all kinds of knots. He could never do that, not even if she held his own gun to his head. No matter if he died; let no one ever say that Kursha Vidari had relinquished the integrity of his character. Victory in death was better than a life bought with humiliation.
Tonight held no death for him though. No victory either. Silent, Kursha could only watch and listen as Rasali recapitulated the events that had led to their current state. Her words had him simmering with quiet rage. She completely failed to recognise her wrong-doings and how he had given her the opportunity to reverse the hammer of justice. Worse than that, she cheated. Then she indicated his rifle. Kursha squinted, uncomprehending. How did that make them “even”? What did she plan to...
No.His chest tightened. Every breath he drew was a physical effort, like pulling up water from a deep well. She could not be serious. He refused to believe that she was serious. There was a punchline in there somewhere. Kursha clenched his fists, his whole body shaking. A sharp pain burned through his chest and his head felt light. Everything was coming apart at the seams. Rasali had torn him to pieces not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. Now it seemed she planned to take it one step further.
To destroy his very identity.
There were no words. Nothing he could say would put the fear in her that she so justly deserved. So he merely watched, ever-silent as she slumped against her lusus, and channelled his hate with his eyes alone. He would kill her—no, he would
destroy her, inside and out. Everything she knew and loved would just be the tinder for her funeral pyre. He would see to it that she burned.
”Come see me again sometime if you wanna make another ‘exchange.’”Making sure that he held eye contact, Kursha turned his head to the side. Then, very deliberately, he spat. He had no intention of playing under pretence. This time she would be fully aware of what she was up against, and even so she would lose.
Kursha felt rough hands grab him under his armpits and haul him upright. His arms were wrenched and pinned behind his back. Security. He should have guessed. He bore the treatment stoically, making no attempt to resist. One of the drones spoke to him. Kursha never heard. His attention was focussed on one point: Rasali. Even as the security drones dragged him away he kept his eyes locked on hers.
This was only the beginning.
