Kassia’s eyes meet mine, and her mouth twitches. “Go. You’ve got just enough time.”
“If I’m not back …”
“I’ll stall.”
Taking each of my brothers by the hand, I march them away from the southern entrance of the arena and through various alleys and side streets until we come to a dusty dirt road leading back toward home. An oxcart rattles by, and I hold up a coin, convincing the driver to take us to the Thorn.
The twins whine the entire way back, but I’m mentally elsewhere, readying myself to walk into the arena.
The emperor doesn’t often attend the Sands, preferring to attend fights where he is guaranteed to see blood and death. And yet terror has swamped me each time I’ve walked out onto his sand.
Since it’s the middle of the day, our mother is sleeping. Shaking her shoulder, I jostle her. Yes, she’ll be half glistered, and mostly incapable of being a mother. But this is important. She knows the dangers of the mine.
She opens her eyes, blinking blearily at me.
“I need you to watch the twins.”
Evren mutters something and Gerith snorts, shoving him. Evren plows his fist into his brother’s gut. And the fight is on.
Sighing, I shove them both out of the room and close the door, ignoring the muffled grunts and yelps in the hall.
“Why?” Her voice is hoarse.
Because you’re their mother. Because they need you. Because I can’t be here every minute of every day.
I hold my tongue and keep my voice even through sheer willpower. “Because their friends are going to the mine.”
Understanding flickers across her eyes. “And they want to go.”
“Yes.”
“You need to go to work.”
My stomach twists. She hasn’t even remembered it’s my last fight in the Sands today. “Yes.”
Perhaps it’s better if she doesn’t know. If Kas and I win, my mother will spread the news far and wide until we’re targeted by every thief and murderer in the city. I’ll probably be mugged three steps from the arena’s entrance.
“I will watch them. Thank you for waking me, baby.”
I just nod, stepping out of the room. Gerith scowls back at me, rubbing at his arm, while Evren seems to have accepted his dreams of going to the mine are dead. He’s already reaching for a book.
“Berries,” I promise. “Pie. I’ve got to go. Be good.” And then I’m out the door and running back toward the arena, my hand lifted uselessly as I hope for a carriage. But all of them are already full, passing me by, heading toward the same place I am.
“I should’ve known she couldn’t be trusted,” I get out. And the first tear spills from my eye.
A muscle ticks in Tiernon’s cheek. “She was never the mother you deserved.”
I shrug, glancing away. Loving an addict is like being an addict yourself. Onlyyou’readdicted to hope. You constantly tell yourself that this time will be different. Things will get better. And always, always, you know that one day, when they’re dead and cold, after their addiction has sucked the breath from their lungs … you’ll still wonder if you could have done more. If you could havebeenmore—even though their addiction was sucking the breath from your lungs too.
“Arvelle?”
I swallow around the vicious ache in my throat. “The Sands isn’t supposed to be to the death.”
“And yet people die every day. Old feuds are reignited and new ones begin,” Tiernon says.
“We really thought we would be fine. Even if we didn’t win that last round, there was no chance we wouldn’t survive. We’d trained so hard. We were the perfect team.”
I make it back to the arena just in time, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Where’s Ti?” I sweep my gaze over the crowd, looking for wide shoulders and a dark scowl.
