—and slashed her throat.
A wet, gurgling gasp tore from her lips. Blood poured down her chest, her body convulsing?—
—and then she collapsed.
The audience cheered.
The fire dancers tossed their flaming batons high into the air, their bodies spinning in effortless precision as they caught them again.
I doubled over. Dry heaves racked my body, but nothing came out except strings of saliva.
Roman’s hand pressed against my back, steady, grounding. “Let’s go,” he murmured. “I don’t care what the rules are. We need to get out of here.”
The moment I straightened, the guards dragged the woman’s limp body offstage, leaving behind a slick smear of crimson.
Raul, grinning like a man who had just sampled fine wine, sauntered toward the remaining prisoner.
“Now,” he declared, “let’s have some more fun, shall we?”
The deafening roar of the crowd drowned out my pounding heartbeat.
Roman tightened his grip on my hand, weaving us through the throng.
Then—
Raul ripped the hood from the prisoner’s head.
Roman stopped short. His entire body went rigid.
“Oh, fuck.” His voice was low, seething. “It’s Tristan. I told that damn fool to stay put.”
My stomach dropped.
Raul sliced through the gag and wrist bindings, stepping back as Tristan stumbled forward.
Still masked, Tristan’s eyes darted frantically around the room before he began thrashing. “I’m not who you think I am! You have the wrong person! Let me go!”
Raul’s smile was pure satisfaction.
“Oh,we have the right person,” he crooned, gesturing lazily. “Just look at the necklace hanging around your throat.”
My breath hitched.
A Timebound necklace.
Tristan froze.
Raul grabbed his arm, yanking it high as if declaring him the victor in some grotesque battle. Then, with that same wicked blade, he slashed Tristan’s inner arm.
A fresh stream of blood spilled down his skin.
A guard wordlessly stepped forward and handed Raul another goblet.
Raul positioned it beneath Tristan’s bleeding wrist, catching every drop with ease.
Tristan’s lips parted—garbled, unintelligible words spilling from him, a mix of pain and panic.
Raul lifted the chalice to his lips?—
