I stumbled back from the bars, heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurt. His eyes followed me the whole time—steady, unblinking, as if he’d expected my reaction. As ifthishad happened before.
The sound of that deep, resonant growl still vibrated through my bones when I turned and ran.
The corridor stretched out ahead in a blur of torchlight and shadow. My boots slapped against the damp stone as I sprinted, my breath sharp in my chest. The air felt too thick, too close, pressing in on me like the walls themselves knew something I didn’t.
That gesture. The way he had risen, crossed his arms, and dragged his claw down his chest— it wasn't random. It felt... ceremonial. And the way he looked at me— not like prey, not like I was his enemy.
Like a warrior standing before someone they owed allegiance to.
“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, rounding the last corner toward my room. My voice sounded shaky, too loud in the empty halls. “He doesn’t know me. He can’t.”
But the image wouldn’t leave my mind—the ember-bright eyes, the flare of the runes, the almost reverent tilt of his head. No creature acts like that toward their opponent before a coliseum match.
They snarl.
They posture.
They try to frighten you.
He hadn’t tried to frighten me. He’dacknowledgedme.
The word lodged in my chest like a thorn. I shoved through the door to my quarters, slammed it shut behind me, and leaned against it, breath ragged. My palms were damp. My pulse still hadn’t slowed.
“I’m imagining things,” I whispered. But the part of me that had gone still when he looked at me—the part that hadrecognizedthe recognition—knew I wasn’t.
Why had he done that? What did that gesture mean? And why had it felt like something deep inside me understood, even if my mind didn’t?
I crossed the room after sealing my door and splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear the fog of adrenaline. The reflection that stared back at me in the mirror looked the same—wild amber eyes, flushed pale skin, midnight tangled hair—but something in my expression had shifted.
He’d looked at me like I was someone else.
Someone he recognized on instinct.
I pressed my palms flat against the sink to steady myself. Tomorrow, the coliseum would roar for blood. The fight would be real. And yet, for the first time, I wasn’t just thinking about survival.
I was thinking about those ember eyes… and the way my name—my title—had seemed to echo in them.
Sleep finally dragged me under like a slow, relentless tide. But it wasn’t the restless kind I’d expected.
The darkness cracked open. Warm, golden light spilled through towering windows, draping the throne room in brilliance. The air smelled of steel and smoke, cut with something sweet—like crushed flowers. I stood at the center of it all, at once disoriented and entirely home.
Banners of deep crimson trimmed in gold hung from vaulted beams, their embroidered sigils pulsing faintly, infused with my power. My fingertips grazed the arm of a throne I didn’t remember but somehow knew. —
And seated upon it—no, I was seated upon it—my body settled with the practiced ease of someone who’d ruled for years. My spine straightened, my chin lifted, and my hands rested lightly on the armrests. A crown’s weight—unseen but unmistakable—rested against my temples like a whisper of authority.
To my right, a Fellat stood sentinel.
Graceful and formidable, its panther-like form glinted under the golden light. Two tentacles extended from its shoulders, swaying slowly and smoothly as they sampled the air for danger. Its head was raised confidently, with golden eyes sweeping the throne room. Authority emanated from it—controlled and purposeful. The loyalty it had for me was unmistakable.
I didn’t need to look at it to know it was mine.
The heavy doors at the far end of the hall opened with a resonant boom.
They entered.
Six men strode down the long aisle, armor scarred from battle, cloaks stained with dirt and blood. The sight of them hit me in the chest—familiar in a way that hurt.
Ambrose led them, helm tucked under his arm, his presence slicing through the room like a blade. Merritt walked beside him, sharp eyes softening when they landed on me.
