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They—no, the ring is only on his left thumb today—smile. “The honor would be mine.” He takes my hip and hand, guiding us effortlessly through the increasing number of Pentacles gathered. He towers over me, our difference in heights made even more dramatic by his tall heels, but it doesn’t lessen his grace in the least. “It’s not every Trials we get a member of the Dregs participating.”

“Maybe in the past. In our lifetime? There were two in the last Trials.”

“That’s true. I somehow forgot.” He smiles warmly. I had half a thought that being close to him would diminish the impression of his perfection, but it only increases it. His light brown skin is so smooth, it looks almost like glass, and his coiled auburn hair is in an intricate, gravity-defying style. And his clothing. I don’t have to verify with Vesper to understand how carefully he’s dressed today with the robes that give the faintest nod to the Pentacles’ style with long, draping sleeves, while still maintaining a very Ruby presence with a deep V that shows off his binder, the structured piece embroidered in a design featuring all the metals the respective courts use in their colors.

I don’t believe for a second that he forgot, but I force myself to smile all the same. Somehow, the politics of the Trials is more exhausting than the actual fighting. “Your story is something of legend in my part of the Dregs—probably all the Dregs, really. Rising to the role of guild master, let alone of the Rubies, in such a short time is nothing less than miraculous.” I clear my throat, true honesty slicing through me. “The Ruby Guild hasn’t always turned its eye to the Dregs; they started to under your leadership. It means a lot.”

Guild Master Fox considers me for several turns. “Not everyone appreciates what Rubies bring to the city.”

“I’m sure.” I snort, once again being too damned honest. “And yet your guild is the only one with members found in every part of Caelria. It seems hypocritical to demonize services so widely utilized.”

“Indeed.” He smiles. I’m not sure what’s different from his previous smile, but it feels more real. “Good luck, Champion Moon. I’m curious to see what you’d do if given a chance.”

I start to respond, but the awareness in the back of my mind, never quite forgotten, chimes gently as the Moon begins to rise. It’s almost sunset. “I hope to speak with you again soon.” I even mean it. This conversation was dry enough as such things go, but the guild master fascinates me. I’d like to know his story. I’d like to know what other policies he’s worked to implement since taking the position leading the Ruby Guild.

Much like Elisio, Fox deposits me neatly at the edge of the dance floor. He nods and moves away, his strides purposeful enough to have people melting out of his path. I look around. Earlier, there was an effective mix between champions, Pentacles, and guild members, but now the dance floor is filled with brown and green and gold and the champions are ranging around the outside of the tables. The Rubies clearly had some kind of orders, because they’ve disappeared the same way Fox has. It won’t be long now.

“Moon.” A too-warm hand grabs my elbow and tows me back into a dark corner. I spin, ready to attack, only to find Cato grinning at me. “You’re asking to get picked off standing there with your jaw hanging open like you’re trying to catch flies.”

I can’t stop my hand from going to my face. “My jaw was not hanging open.”

“Are you sure?” He catches my jaw lightly, the touch freezing me in place. He strokes his thumb over my bottom lip, his dark brown eyes contemplative. I don’t know how to deal with Cato’s flirting. He’s so shameless.

“I’m sure.” I jerk back. “Have you seen Vesper?”

“They were…” He trails off, tilting his head back as if he can see the sky through the low ceiling overhead. He shivers. “It’s like a gust of cold wind every damn time.”

I almost ask him what he’s talking about, because that is not the sensation I’m experiencing, the chiming in my head reaching a crescendo. There’s no time for that. The Sun has set.

“Cato?” I whisper. “Where is Vesper?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t match my tone, clearly distracted. “But the plan is to meet outside, just down the block. We stick to it.”

I give him the look that statement deserves. This place is about to be a slaughterhouse, and running away to meet down the street is a good way to get Vesper killed. “We’re not leaving them.”

Someone screams and I duck instinctively. I didn’t recognize the sound, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s begun. Pentacles scramble out of the way, the screaming multiplying. Someone yells, “Fire!”

“Sun curse it.” Cato hauls me back to standing. “We have to go.” He doesn’t give me a chance to continue arguing; he just hauls me bodily toward the closest window, breaking it with a short burst of sunbeam a bare second before we barrel through and out into the street. He points at a roof across the street. “Take us—”

But I’m not listening any longer. I finally catch sight of Vesper, still inside and trapped between a table and the Hermit. They’re fending the woman off with their cane, but only barely. I don’t know where their luck is, but it will only take one misstep for them to fall beneath the Hermit’s longer staff. I cast a quick look around the rapidly emptying room, but as soon as smoke started pouring into the space, both champions and party guests rushed the exits. Cato isn’t the only one who broke windows to get out; I see Elisio carrying an older Pentacle, glass falling from his clothing. He rushes down the street without looking back. Smart.

“Don’t you dare—” Cato’s curse is the last thing I hear before I throw myself forward, right back through the broken window and into the growing haze of smoke. Fire would be dangerous enough in a normal stone building, but of course the Pentacles had to show off by putting us in one filled with fucking wood. I vault over the table and sprint across the mostly empty dance floor.

My sickles are in my hands. I don’t remember drawing them. Each stride brings me closer to the grappling champions. The dance floor didn’t feel this large when it was packed with people, but now Vesper might as well be on the Moon for all I can get to them in time.

They go down.

I don’t know what happens. Maybe they trip. Maybe it’s their foot. Maybe something entirely different. All I know is that they topple backward, and the alarm on their pretty face is a perfect counterpoint to the victory shining on the Hermit’s.

“No!” There’s no space for thinking, for planning. I panic and throw the sickle in my right hand. It shouldn’t work. It’s not weighted for throwing the way some knives are, perfectly balanced for a truer path. And yet I watch in horror as my sickle takes the Hermit in the shoulder, the toothy part of the blade just inside the curve sinking into her flesh.

She screams. It’s a horrible sound, high and fractured, but I don’t let it stop me. She intended to kill Vesper. She joined the Trials of her own free will. She chose this, knowing the potential consequences.

My body acts on its own, my mind taking a distant position of surveying each movement. My right hand, planted on the table as I slide over the wood, scattering dishes of perfectly good food. My left, still holding one of the sickles with perfect ease. The way my arm reaches out, a bare flick of my wrist causing the hilts of the two sickles to expand and connect. It’s so damned easy to jerk the blade out of the Hermit’s shoulder, causing her scream to reach new heights. It’s even easier to spin my new staff and strike, ripping out her throat. I slam back into my body as the Hermit’s blood splatters my skin. Her watery brown eyes go flat and empty as her body topples to the ground.

Dead. “I killed her.”

“Yes, you did.”