What the fuck was he thinking? Did anyone see?
I glance around, feeling eyes on me.
It’s Stark, standing a few yards away. He’s staring right at me, his black gaze murderous, lips curling on the edge of a snarl. Adrenaline flashes through me, cold and then hot.
I tear my gaze away. Did he catch Killian doing that? Or does he just hate me?
I don’t have time to think about it. Suddenly the king is at my elbow. There’s a pause as he looks me over. Then he hooks his finger around a lock of my hair and lifts it briefly.
“Hmm. Unusual.”
I stare at his chest, but I can see his eyes narrow, his lips part to speak?—
“My king,” Stark interrupts, “shall we show you what our recruits can do? They haven’t begun their training yet. No time like the present to test their resolve.”
Test our resolve? What is he talking about?
The king’s head turns. His lips curl in a wicked smile. “What an excellent idea, Alpha Stark! I do believe I’d enjoy that.” He reaches under his cloak, drawing theDiren Blædin a singing hiss of metal against metal.
Then he slams the tip of the sword into the ground with a resounding crack.
“Rawbonds!” King Cyril bellows. “Find and kill the weakest recruit!”
Wait, what?!
At once, the arena bursts into chaos. The crowd howls with delight as the king and his entourage scurry back to their balcony. Rawbonds scramble to mount their wolves. Less than half are successful.
I turn to Anassa, but she’s already facing off with another wolf, snarling and snapping. Both animals seem maddened, their eyes glowing with bloodlust.
What the?—?
Allthe wolves seem maddened. They’re circling each other like sharks, unheeding the rider’s commands. Snapping at each other with slavering violence. The Rawbonds on foot are forced to scatter lest they get caught in the crossfire.
The wolves are gripped by some command from theDiren Blæd, I realize. The Rawbonds seem to take it in stride.
Did they hear something I didn’t? Feel something I didn’t?
As I scan the arena in bewilderment, another pair of wolves thunders past, nearly knocking me down. One of them turns to snap at me as I scramble out of the way, its enormous teeth clacking shut mere inches from my face before it turns on another wolf.
Fuck. I can’t survive this on my own. It doesn’t take a genius to know that those who failed to mount their wolves are the ones most vulnerable to attack. It’s only a matter of time before one of us is marked as the weakest.
Anassa!
I reach out to her desperately in my mind, but she ignores me—the iron wall still separates us.
All I can do is try to stay out of everyone’s way.
I pull out the blade that I always have hidden at my thigh and prepare myself for violence.
I’m amazed no one has come after me yet. I thought at least a few of them would decideI’mthe weakest recruit. But whatever spell the king cast has made the direwolves impossible to control. There’s no order, no strategy. The wolves are still circling, lunging, sizing each other up.
And then something changes.
A young man falls from his wolf, landing hard enough to shatter bones. I recognize him from the Ascent, though I don’t know his name. He’s a Kryptos recruit. Smaller than average and slender. Fine brown hair and freckles. One of the youngest, surely—eighteen at most, a boy more than a man. He was one of the last to be chosen.
His cry of pain echoes loud enough to draw the attention of every predator on the field.
The energy of violence and chaos shifts instantly.
