She ruffled his hair. “I did, too, my darling.” Milonia glanced out at the growing threat of violence. “But it’s time to go.”
Kai knew it was time to end the session when the shadows inside the hissing vent began to breathe.
Gods. She needed food, water, and sleep.
Which meant they all did.
Around the arena, her warriors faltered. Blunted attacks. Sluggish footwork. Coughing into the crook of their elbows.
“Call it,” she told Otekah.
Otekah’s triple clap cracked through the hall. “Enough! Go home. Rest up and return tomorrow.”
Sparring units froze, weapons midair. More than a few sagged in relief.
Kai ascended the sloped ridge toward one of the stone statues, her limbs heavy. The Stormguard followed, glancing at the arena floor, murmuring low.
She fumbled with the clasps of her vambrace. Beside her, the Stormguard peeled off their gear, lines of exhaustion slicing through their faces.
They were her best, and they were near collapse.
She’d driven them too far.
“We’ll go easier tomorrow,” she told them. “I’m sorry?—”
“No,” Niabi cut in. “We work until we know we can survive what is to come.”
The others nodded. Drakaa’s warning still rang in their bones.
“We’re all right,” Poloma said, then glanced down. Several warriors lay flat on their backs. Still. “Or not.”
Tiponi nudged her sister. “Does the air look misty to you?”
Kai squinted into the arena, tugging at her second vambrace. Tiponi was right—the air looked…
Green?
From the north and south exits, murmurs broke through the line of warriors waiting to exit.
One voice near the tunnel: “It’s locked.”
And at the other exit: “We’re locked in!”
A sudden burst of pale green air rushed from the vent.
Asudden wind snapped the banners to life—sharp, restless. But it did nothing to ease the suffocating heat pressing down on the courtyard. The crowd shifted closer to the gate, a veritable extension of the surrounding wall.
The guardsmen parted for Dimitrios, shields scraping against spears.
Every eye turned toward him, some with hope, more with suspicion, and far too many with hate.
Nikolas closed in on his back. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“They will tear you apart, and then I’m going to have to order these men to intervene.”
Dimitrios turned to face his friend. “Order the men back.”
