The enforcer gives us a taunting smile. “You’re all going out together.”
“Together?” Maeva whispers.
“It will be a bloodbath.” My mind races.
Leon immediately gestures for me to follow him a few feet from the others.
“Good choice with the armor.”
I lean close, lowering my voice. “Do you know what this challenge is?”
“No. All I know is that it involves water. Remember, this is the last one. You do this, and Evren is healed.”
My breath shudders from my lungs. The thought of being so close to freedom … it’s heady. But the thought of so many of us entering the arena at the same time …
“Take out Baldric and Hester first,” Leon says. “They’ll be aiming for you.”
“Sisenna will retaliate.”
“You can take her.”
He’s right. She may be able to fight with a scutum, but I made sure to watch her train, and I’m just a hair faster. And if water is involved, a heavy scutum will be useless. Still, I’m not as fast with my knives as I am with my sword. Unstrapping my sheath, I hand it to Leon.
“Do you think Brenin will ally with me and Maeva?”
“I believe so.” Leon surveys the other gladians. “He hates Baldric. So does that vampire you’re friendly with.”
“Kaeso,” I murmur.
He gives me a sharp nod. “Garet will follow Kaeso’s lead, but Placus could go either way.”
“Line up,” an enforcer calls. Several others join him, and within a few minutes, all of us are wearing suppression cuffs.
Brenin nods at us, and the light from the aether lamp dances across his silver sigil. “Ready?”
“As ready as we can be,” Maeva mutters.
I nod back. Brenin keeps to himself, but I’ve seen him train, and he’s lethal with a crossbow.
“I hate this,” Maeva mutters.
“Guardants, it’s time to go,” the enforcer booms. “Gladians, into the holding room.”
Leon gives me one last grave look and turns, striding away.
We file inside. The cold stone walls, dirt floor, and marble seats remind me of sitting here before my last challenge. Before I was forced to kill Antigrus.
Maeva scans the room, her gaze lingering on the floor in one corner. “We just have to make it through today, attend the ball, and we will formally be Praesidium novices.”
“What ball?”
She frowns at me. “The Sundering Ball. It’s a celebration for those of us who made it through. Please tell me you brought a gown with you.”
I shake my head. I’ve heard of the presentation—when the emperor divides the new novices between himself, Rorrik, and Tiernon—but Leon didn’t tell me anything about a ball and it’s last on my list of priorities.
“Did Albion give you any advice?” I ask.
“He said to avoid Titus.”
