“I am at the heir’s command,” he said out loud, his eyes not breaking from hers.
Elena gave him a quick, true smile before turning back to the box.
“Your Highness, this is absurd,” Jangir began.
“Unusual,” Varun added.
“Perhaps our fighters did not entertain you?” Leelat said, earning him a glare from Jangir.
“Your Highness.” Yassen stepped forward, but she saw him look to the time hovering along the wall. “I’ll escort you.”
“You’ve given so much. I think it’s time for me to give a gift in return,” Elena said to Jangir. She turned to Varun. “Surely youwillstay for it.”
Varun looked to Jangir, then folded his hands, bowing. “Of course, Your Highness.”
She left them glowering in the box as Yassen led her to the fighters’ chambers.
“What’s your plan?” he said.
“Keep them here until the news breaks,” she said, walking faster. They had only twelve minutes now.
“Elena, what exactly was in that holopod?”
She paused in front of the chamber doors. When she did not answer, Yassen placed his hand on the door, leaning over her.
“I won’t let you through until you tell me.”
“Yassen, this isn’t the time—”
“Whatis going to happen?” he asked. He had taken off his visor once they were alone, and she could see his pale eyes in the dark, searching her face. Worry dented his brow, a line appearing right above his nose.Funny, she thought, how she could read him now. How familiar he had become to her ever since he had vowed to keep her secret in the desert.
She stepped closer. “I gave Varun reports that indict Jangir as a Jantari agent,” she whispered. “I thought he would use them to oust Jangir, to lead the gold caps himself, but he hasn’t. So I’m doing it for him.”
His eyes widened, but before he could respond, the doors flung open.
“There you are.” Samson smiled to her, and then he seemed to notice Yassen. How close he stood to her. Something quick flashed across Samson’s face, but instead of anger or jealousy, Elena saw only longing in Samson’s eyes as he looked at Yassen. But then Samson recovered his smile, and he clapped Yassen on the shoulder.
“Have you come to fight for me, Cass?”
“Samson,” Yassen said, hesitating. He pulled away. “I’ll be at the box. Both of you just—just be careful.”
“We will,” Samson said.
“So what is this all about?” Samson said as she returned from the changing room.
The padded pants were a bit too big for her, but Elena pulled the sword belt tighter to keep them up.
“Varun was going to leave. I needed a way to make him stay.” She picked up a sword. It was light, well-balanced. She looped it into her belt.
“But why?”
“You remember what you said about mercy,” she said, pulling on gloves as Samson watched. “How the moments that define us are when we forgive ourselves?” She met his eyes. “I can never forgive myself if I don’t do something about the massacre in the park. My father already made it clear that he’ll do nothing for the families. But I will. I’ll bring justice to them.”
She strode toward the tunnel leading to the arena. Samson hurried after her, falling in step.
“And you think it’s wise acting against the very people who support the throne?” he said. “Who will support us when you become queen?”
“Oh, Sam.” She closed her eyes to hide her disappointment. “Would you forgive yourself if you did nothing?”
