Briona gives me a nod and I nod back, my mouth dry.
Nyrant has chosen his timing well—none of the imperius are here and Leon is still fighting for his life. In Nyrant’s mind, I disrespectedhim. I’m not powerful, and my survival has been mostly grit and luck. If I die here, my death will at least be a useful lesson to the other novices.
Briona dances forward, and I lift my sword to block. She’s fast, and her wide-set shoulders and toned upper body tell me just how strong she is. Stronger than her first strike would lead me to believe.
She strikes out again and I meet it, frowning as the blow barely hits. Briona lunges forward, and I blink as she somehow trips over her own feet, slamming into me.
“You need to at least make this look realistic,” she hisses before darting away.
“What is wrong with you today?” Nyrant snarls.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Briona calls, her eyes cold.
“Get to the back of the line.”
With a nod, she switches places with Brenin. He lunges forward, but it’s an oddly awkward move, and I slam my fist into his gut. He folds in two, sucking in a deep breath, and if I wanted, I could slice my sword through his neck right now.
Nyrant is slowly turning purple with rage, and Brenin turns until his back is facing the imperium.
Then he gives me a tiny, secret smirk. “The Volkers had it coming,” he says quietly. “They were poison.”
He continues to stumble around like a lumbering oaf until Nyrant replaces him with Garet.
“You saved Maeva’s life,” he whispers, lashing out with his fist. He pulls the punch at the last moment, so his knuckles graze my cheek. I let my head snap back, stumbling dramatically, and his next exhale sounds like a chuckle.
By the time Calena replaces Garet, Nyrant has lost the color in his face. His mouth is a thin line, his eyes hard.
“That was a hell of a fight,” Calena says conversationally, clearly not concerned about Nyrant overhearing. “Seeing the emperor’s son on his knees almost made all this worth it.”
“Out,” Nyrant roars, and she gives me a grin, sauntering away.
Kaeso steps forward next. Despite our last interaction, the vampire tamps down his brutal strength, swinging his sword slowly enough that it’s almost as if he’s wearing suppression cuffs. When I fight the other vampires, they do the same.
And so it continues.
If there’s one thing every novice has learned in the arena, it’s how to put on a show. By the end of training, I’m bruised, but only bleeding in a few places, exhausted, but alive after eighteen performances.
Nyrant gives me a look filled with such retribution and disdain, I tense. His power crackles through the air, and my own sigil begins to burn in response.
No. Panic spirals through my body.
Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths. If Antigrus’s shield appears here, I really am dead.
A muscle twitches in Nyrant’s jaw. And then he turns and walks out of the training hall.
ISTOP BYmy room, leaving my sword leaning against the wall next to the parma and sword Tiberius gave me. My hands tremble as I splash water on my face, but I manage to pull myself together as I make my way to the healers to check on Leon and Maeva.
Axia beams at me. “Maeva briefly woke a few hours ago. You were training so we didn’t disturb you. She fell asleep again, but this is a very good sign. If you want, you can go sit with her until she wakes again.”
The tight, knotted muscles in my stomach begin to loosen, and I nod, unable to reply. Axia gives me a gentle smile and wanders away, leaving me to slump against the wall until my knees are no longer weak.
I check on Leon first. The healers have changed the bandages around his ribs, and they’re no longer bloodstained. He’s still pale, but his breathing is deep and even.
I sit by Maeva’s bed, studying her face.
“Arvelle?” Maeva’s voice is rough, and her eyes flutter open, blurred with fatigue.
“I’ll get the healer,” I murmur, and she shakes her head, attempting to grab my arm. But Axia is already walking into the room, as if she sensed Maeva waking.
