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His eyes go wide. I’m still trying to process what the fuck just happened when he punches me in the face. It feels like getting kicked in the teeth by a horse. I land on my back—again—my brain screaming at me to move and my body unable to obey. The Tower surges forward, bringing the sword down with all his might.…

“Stop!” a voice booms.

He twists at the last moment and his sword is sent clattering away from us. The force of the aborted strike sends him to one knee, half straddling me. He glares at me as if I’ve done something wrong, his chest rising and falling just as violently as mine.

What just happened?

It takes me a full three beats of my stampeding heart to move. Even then, I can only twist my head to see who called out. Death stands a handful of feet away, staring at me. Every instinct I have demands I hold still and hope he leaves, but I’ll be damned before I meet my mother’s murderer on my back. I shove the Tower away and roll painfully to my feet. Gods, everything hurts. My sickles are gone. I don’t have a good grasp on my magic. My body shakes from the fall and the fight. I’m as close to defenseless as I’ve ever been, but if I have nothing else, I still have my bravado. “If you want to fight me yourself, let’s get this over with.”

Death considers me and then turns his attention to the Tower. “Sunrise is here.”

Even as he speaks the word, I feel it. The pressure in my mind, the one telling me the Sun is coming, has reached a crescendo. I turn unerringly to face the east. I can’t see the wall from this position, but I can see the lightening sky on the horizon, pink and orange eating away at the night. For a moment, all I’m capable of is staring. It’s beautiful. This is what it means to live up on the hill. Not a few shadowed hours of sunlight between twilight and night, but an entire day of brightening sky.

By the time I drag my attention from the sunrise, Death is walking away. The Tower scoops up his sword and follows. Neither one of them looks back once.

I don’t know what to think of the night’s events. Vesper’s attempt at an alliance is the only thing that makes sense. The Tower attacked, only to be called off by Death. Why? He didn’t curtail the violence against the other three champions the Tower cut down. Maybe it really was because of how close sunrise had come; he didn’t want to lose his attack dog. If the Tower killed me after sunrise, he would be eliminated himself. I’m not entirely sure how the Minor Court keeps champions from cheating that particular rule, but I’m not about to test it out.

But thinking back over those harrowing moments where I thought I’d seen my last sunrise, that doesn’t quite make sense. There was time for the Tower to finish his strike before the Sun crested the horizon. I’m sure of it. So why did Death call him off?

It takes me some time to gather my scattered sickles and limp my way to the island where the temples are. I still make it well before the sixth strike. My ankle aches a little and my face is throbbing, but I can work my jaw and still have all my teeth. That’s about all I can ask for at this point.

Hopefully by tonight, I’ll come up with a way to pivot from the plan Mouse and I painstakingly put together. At least I gained some of the stealth magic we anticipated, and I have plenty of experience with running and hiding. The problem is when I’m inevitably caught like I was last night. The longer the Trials go on, the stronger the alliances will be—and the less likely a solo champion will make it to the end. I need a new strategy, and I need it fast.

I arrive back in the champions’ courtyard to find banners unfurled in front of doors to five of the temples. I examine them, trying to reason my way through the dread they instinctively fill me with. Mouse talked about this part of the Trials. The banners indicate the champion responsible for the elimination. The Tower’s banner, depicting his namesake in the most literal sense, hangs over the doorways for the Lovers, the Empress, and Judgment. I stare at the deep gray tower with flames erupting from its few windows, a storm in the background, desperate people throwing themselves from its height because the harsh impact with the ground will be a better end than the destruction within. I swallow hard. Even if I hadn’t seen him fight, knowing he took down Judgment would be enough for me to avoid him once the Sun sets.

The other two champions eliminated last night were the Hanged Man and Strength. The former must have been the body I saw at the start of the fight last night; it turns out they were killed by Death. His banner is strangely majestic, a mysterious rider wearing a dark cloak perched on a white horse, holding a rose banner. The other banner belongs to the Chariot. That one is apt enough, a person in a chariot with two horses bearing down on the viewer, just like the Chariot bears down on his victims.

Five champions eliminated in a single night. Twelve more people will die before the end.

Around the courtyard, the living champions gather and examine the banners. It’s difficult to say if the alliances have held through the night. I’ll get a better idea of how things are developing during the party later today. There is one mystery, though, that I plan on getting an answer to. Right now. I search the gathered champions for Death. He said he called out because sunrise was here. I’m not sure I believe him. I mean to find out why he called his ally off.

Unfortunately, Death isn’t among the champions already dispersing, each heading toward their respective temple. I grit my teeth. I’ll have to catch him at the party and try to get answers then. I’m certainly not going to violate the rules and try to enter his temple. I’m so busy contemplating my angle of approach that I don’t notice I’m not alone until the Tower’s long shadow falls over me. It takes every bit of control I can dredge up not to skitter back the moment I register his presence. “Get away from me.”

He turns easily to face the same direction I am, his shoulder far too close to mine. “You’re safe enough from me, Moon.”

Maybe there is a way to get some answers without speaking to Death himself. I eye the Tower. “Because your master called you off.”

“Master.” He raises his eyebrows. “Ally, you mean.” The more he speaks, the more I detect an accent I’m not overly familiar with. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite place when or where.

“He wasn’t being an ally when he stood there and watched you face down three champions—one of whom was a member of the Cinque.”

“So that was you on the roof.” The Tower shrugs. “If you want to make an ally of Death, you have to prove yourself. I did.” Just like that. As if he weren’t being sent to certain, well, death. Killing those people clearly didn’t bother him. I don’t know why I expected it to.

In the Dregs, we’re all desperate. Each person is painfully aware there’s no one coming to save us. Death is common, murder equally so. A lot of times, it’s us or them—and them is the person in possession of what we need. Food, shelter, prime hunting territory. It’s one of the more unpleasant truths of living in a world where only the strong survive to a ripe old age—and oftentimes not even then.

Mouse wanted me to have experience killing. It’s the one part of my training I refused to comply with. Several of my fights over the years could have ended in someone dead, but coldly picking someone to murder solely so I’ll have the stomach for it in the Trials? It felt too much like how the people up on the hill see us. Disposable.

The way the Tower holds himself, the nonchalant way he speaks, he doesn’t seem bothered by the events of the night at all. His stillness is too complete; either he’s better at hiding his emotions than anyone I’ve ever known … or he has none to speak of. Or, even worse, he’s killed enough people to not be bothered by the idea any longer. There are predators like that in the Dregs, and I’ve been careful to coach all the littles, even the youngest, to avoid being caught alone with them.

The Tower finally looks at me. “Why did you choose the Moon? You seem capable enough. You could have snuck your way to the dais before some of the others.”

I seem capable enough? He nearly killed me mere minutes after our fight started. I glare at him, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking me. There’s genuine curiosity in his dark brown eyes. You want information, Kestrel. Play nice. It’s impossible not to bristle, though. “I have my own reasons. I didn’t have to kill anyone to become the Moon’s champion. You did.”

“I have an alliance and you don’t. It seems there are some flaws in your strategy.”

I tighten my grip on my sickles until the handles bite into my palms. Information. I need information. “An alliance with Death, who wouldn’t allow you to kill me. Why’s that?”

The bastard smiles. It’s a crooked smile, the right side of his mouth pulling up higher than the left. It shatters his uncanny beauty and he’s suddenly human and so devastating that he steals my breath even more effectively than the ground did when I fell. “See you tonight, Moon.” He leaves me behind and stalks to his temple, a twisted building that’s twice the height of the others, spiraling up to a point that looks sharp enough to impale. In the light, I can see there are dozens of figures carved into the surface of it, all screaming as they fall to their deaths, just like the ones depicted in his banner. Cheerful. Really cheerful.