The war horn blew again. Dirt wafted in the air. My shoulders sank even lower.
“Sounds like they’re awake now,” Gunnar said, swatting at the dust.
My heart fluttered in my chest. I willed it to stop. “What—what do they want?”
They spoke at once.
“Sacrifice.”
“Blood.”
“A show.”
A roar echoed through the hall—deep, tortured. Inhuman. My attention flicked between my friends: Olivia, Gunnar, Freyja. They were here, so at least I wouldn’t be fighting them.
“Who’s my opponent?” I rasped.
“We…” Concern etched itself above Olivia’s brows. “We don’t know. We won’t know until they step into the ring.”
Another raucous roar of applause—fanatic, obsessive.
“The queen’s arrived.” Freyja glanced at Gunnar. “We need to go.”
Unease twisted my stomach, burning my throat. “Is it really a fight to the death?”
“There’s only one winner.” Even though Gunnar kept a straight face, I could see the panic in his eyes. “Olivia’s right. This is an old way of justice for an old way of life. Nobody does this anymore.”
“What are the rules?”
“There are none,” he said sadly.
“Every fight in this dome is a fight in those wretched gods’ honor.” Olivia shook her head, cursing under her breath. “Honor they don’t deserve. There’s a reason they were banished, why their shrines were torn down, why no one speaks their names anymore.”
Before I could find out more, the metal slipped between my fingers as the portcullis rose with a groan. Screams and shafts of light funneled in from one far end of the corridor, where the ground sloped up from one prison to the next: the arena.
“That’s our cue.” Flipping her strawberry blonde tresses, Freyja gathered up her poofy skirts. “Mother will send someone for me if she hasn’t already.”
“Frey’s right. If we get caught down here… One sec, though.” Reaching into his jacket, Gunnar pulled out a curved piece of leather, etched runes glossy in the faint light.
A sheath, for a knife.
My knife.
“Where—” I gulped, swallowing a shaky breath. “Where did you get that?”
“Word gets out quickly in this castle. I snuck into your rooms before the Eyes raided it.”
“Thank you.” I took it into my hands, clutching it to my chest before hiding it in my boot. “Thank you.”
“I’m rooting for you, Riv.” He cupped my cheek softy before backing away. I didn’t want him to go, didn’t want to feel the cold, empty air where he once stood.
Olivia stepped forward, pulling me into a hug beneath the gate’s pointed edges hanging above. “I’d tell you to run,” she whispered, “but guards are stationed around every corner. The best I can promise is that when you’re done with all this, we’re heading straight to California.”
“We?” I couldn’t have heard that right. My pulse was pounding in my ears; the fear was warping her words. Olivia couldn’t go back, not after what Chthonia had done to her—would do to her, given the chance.
She nodded. “You heard me. Running is what our enemy wants. We will not live in fear or hide in the shadows. Whatever happens next, we’re in it together. Plus”—she squeezed tighter—“I think someone needs to talk some sense into your dad.”
Another set of arms wrapped around us. “I love you guys,” Gunnar sighed theatrically. “Frey, you want to join?”
