Ignoring the little voice inside my head that begs me to turn and leave, I hold out my hand for him to drop the button down.
He gives me a haughty look. “I don’t think so. You’ll get it when we are finished here.”
“How do I know you’ll give it to me?”
He inclines his head. “Because I gave you my word.”
Such a statement is ridiculous in the Thorn. But for some reason, I believe him.
“Fine,” I say, climbing up. “Move out of the way.”
I should have listened to my instincts that day.
Should have left and never turned back.
But I didn’t.
THE FIRST DAYof anything is usually the worst.
I remind myself of this over and over as Maeva and I return to our bedroom in silence. Several other women follow us, murmuring in low voices among themselves. One of them is the woman who stared at the emperor’s son the same way my mother used to look at glister.
I can’t let myself focus on the vampire who just killed a man in frontof me, or Baldric, who already wants me dead, or the emperor, whoIhave to somehow kill.
Instead, I force my mind to clear while I change into loose-fitting pants and a tunic, which I tuck into the pants.
Maeva’s still getting dressed when I walk back toward the dining hall. Leon appears at my side, and I jump. He still moves far too quietly for such a large man. If the lack of daylight disconcerts him, it’s not evident. He shaved at some point yesterday, but it hasn’t done much to soften his unkempt look.
“Are you even allowed down here?”
“Guardants have access to most of the rooms beneath the arena,” he mutters.
And he must know his way around, since he was once a champion in this very arena—long before the Sands were compulsory. It’s the reason Kassia and I were so certain we would both live. We’d felt as if we had a secret weapon on our side.
I press myself against the stone wall, making way for a group of gladians who are heading toward the dining hall.
“Don’t bother eating,” Leon says, the expression on his face as grim as if he were the one about to march to his own death.
I know what that means. Leon’s planning to push me hard enough that any food in my stomach would come straight back up.
I fall into step next to him.
“You’ll be training at the same time as the other gladians,” he says, “which means they’ll be watching you. They’ll be sniffing out any signs of weakness that they can use against you in the arena. Everything you do in this place matters.”
My stomach churns. If Bran had come to me earlier with his little deal, I might’ve had longer to train before I had to display those weaknesses in public.
“What do you know of the rules of the arena?” Leon asks.
“Not much. I only know the rules of the Sands.” I keep my voice as empty and neutral as his own.
He keeps his gaze pointedly turned from me as we make our way toward the training hall. “There are three main rules during active fighting. Gladians can’t exit the arena until someone either dies or throws down their weapons—bowing to the emperor and asking for his mercy.
“Gladians also can’t enter anyone else’s fight without automatically joining them and risking something worse—the emperor doesn’t like his entertainment interrupted. And even if you win, your survival depends on the emperor’s mood—and his thumb. If he flips that thumb down, you’ll be executed.”
My mouth turns watery, and Leon finally glances at me. “He’s unlikely to waste his gladians in such a way. He has the criminals sentenced to the arena for that. He would much prefer to watch his gladians fight to the death among themselves.”
That’s reassuring. “Is every fight to the death?” It wasn’t in the Sands, but the Sundering is far deadlier.
Leon shakes his head. “Some gladians agree among themselves to go to first blood. However, the emperor casts a fond eye over those who give the crowd a good show. And occasionally, that first blood will be a wound too great for the healers to fix in time.” We enter the hall, and he turns to look at me, his eyes steely. “And of course, there are those who want to impress the crowd—and their sponsors—with their kill count. This place is filled with people who are out for themselves. People from families with ancient grudges who use their children to settle them when they enter the arena. People who have scores to settle from the Sands.”
