She doesn’t want to die either.
Kassia’s scream cuts through the cheers of the crowd.
And then I’m rolling, getting to my feet, sprinting for her.
Her eyes meet mine—
“Leave her alone, Baldric,” Maeva snaps, dragging me into the present. Cold sweat drips down my spine.
Baldric drops his gaze to her. “Fuck off, pixie.”
Several people gasp. My skin turns hot. Pixies have been almost entirely eradicated from Senthara. The emperor decided they were pests and began a mass extermination campaign decades ago.
They never harmed anyone. They were defenseless. And now they’re gone.
Maeva’s face flickers, and for the single flash of a moment, her expression is ice-cold. But seconds later, she turns away.
Baldric lets out a low laugh. But the woman next to him is still staring at me, her lip curled.
“You killed my cousin,” she says.
I can see her resemblance to Galia Volker. “She chose to fight to thedeath instead of first blood,” I say. What Idon’tsay is that after what Galia did to Kassia, that bitch had it coming. My best friend’s last action was to kill the woman who had killed her. All I did was remove Volker’s head from her body.
Baldric gives me a wide smile, revealing surprisingly straight, white teeth. Given the state of his nose, I would’ve expected a few gaps.
“We’re choosing to fight to the death too. Enjoy your last few days, because one of us will kill you in that arena.”
I suppress an eye roll. I’ve never understood why people give advance warning of their plans. As a bodyguard, I was mostly hired by people who’d been given very specific threats by very angry people. They knew something was coming for them, so they spent their money on protection.
The smart strategy would be to skip the threats and stay silent. To watch, to wait, and to strike when the moment is right.
But people are rarely smart.
Several gladians have moved closer, abandoning their meals to hear the drama. Two choices unfurl before me. I either let Baldric push me around, ensuring none of the gladians here see me as a threat—and decreasing the chance I’m targeted outside of the arena. Or I wrap defiance around me like a cloak and make it clear I’m not prey.
The more targets on my back, the less likely I am to survive the Sundering. And yet, paradoxically, I can shake off a few of those targets with a show of strength.
Maeva’s eyes are still dark and wounded. That, more than anything, helps me make my choice.
“Iwillmeet you in the arena.” I smile wide, showing them my teeth. “And I’m looking forward to it.”
Something flickers in Baldric’s eyes before he turns and stomps away. The woman sneers at me and follows him. Holding my head high, I turn and scan the room.
Just like in the Thorn, predators wait to strike. And just like in the Thorn, my survival depends on me making it clear I’m not a victim.
It’s a delicate balance. I can’t be seen as enough of a challenge that taking me down would earn someone respect—although given my lack of training, that’s not going to be a problem—and I also can’t be seen as easy prey.
Most people have returned to their conversations. But down theother end of the room, at a table set for ten or more, a group of people are wearing the same strange black armor as the vampire who dropped my knife on the floor.
Despite their identical armor, I recognize that particular vampire immediately by the intent way he holds himself as he watches me.
His friends are watching me too. Several of them aren’t wearing their helmets, and only around half of them are vampires. From here, I can see a bronze sigil, a half-crowned silver, and two gold sigils.
It’s the only table in the dining hall where sigilmarked and vampires sit side by side.
“You’ll need to watch your back,” Maeva murmurs beside me. “I watched Baldric fight in the Sands. We’re from the same town. Nothing pleases him more than hurting people. And his sister, Hester, is just as bad.”
I shrug. Now that I know Baldric and Hester will be targeting me, I’ll be careful. But I’m more interested in the table at the end of the hall. “Who are they?” I ask Maeva.
