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“Kestrel, move.”

I didn’t even realize I had stopped running. Fear is all thorns and poison inside me, threatening to turn my limbs to lead and my brain to mush. I don’t want to die. My shoulder still aches from the Fool’s attack. Gods, I don’t want to die.

Then don’t. Fight. Survive. Live.

The voice drifts through my frantically chattering thoughts, soft and firm and undeniably Them. If the Moon watches every fight that takes place under Their domain, then they’re watching me now.

I pump my arms, putting on as much speed as possible to catch up with Cato. If he didn’t have Vesper in his arms, I wouldn’t have a chance, but he’s slowed enough for me to reach him halfway between our seats and the prisoners’ doors.

“Hurry,” I pant. “There’s too much light. I can’t—”

“I’m trying.” He surges forward … and goes down, tangled up in the limbs of a corpse. Not just any corpse, either. It’s Calvin, his blond hair gone black from blood. “Fuck.” Cato attempts to scramble away, but he’s hampered by Vesper trying to do the same.

In the spare seconds it takes to right themselves, the Chariot is on us. He’s grown in the short time since I looked at him last, easily topping eight feet now, his corded muscles almost comically large. Or they would be comical if not for the fact he’s intent on our deaths.

He doesn’t stop to fight. He just aims his massive body at me and picks up speed, charging forward faster than I’ve ever seen a human move before. He’s going to trample me.

Faster and faster. Closer and closer. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide on the sand littered with corpses. Between one step and the next, some of the light around the sand dims, sending shadows sprouting around us.

Cato.

The Chariot grins, sure of my death, and brings up a huge foot to shatter me to pieces. I grab the shadows with all my might, not worried about where to go, only knowing it needs to be not here.

Blink.

The Chariot is so close, I can see the whites of his eyes, can see the sweat on his brow.

Blink.

I land on my knees in cool sand, a hundred feet from where I was just a second ago.

The Chariot stampedes through the space I had just occupied. He passes close enough to Vesper and Cato that my heart leaps into my throat, but instead of turning to attack them, he keeps going, doing a wide loop around the closest curve of the arena. Understanding dawns. He’s keeping his momentum up. That’s the source of his magic, the thing that makes him unstoppable. I knew that, of course, after the Culling, but this is a different kind of fight.

He can’t pivot easily. That has to be something we can use. I pull the shadows to me again, this time to bring me to Cato and Vesper’s side. “He can’t turn quickly.”

“I know,” Cato pants. He hauls Vesper to their feet. “We have to split up.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Vesper is already nodding. “Scatter. Now!”

The Chariot circles around again. It’s hard to tell, but I think he might be bigger than he was just a few seconds ago. Each step rattles my bones. My mind helpfully offers an image of what my body will look like when he’s through with me. Flat and bloody and barely recognizable as human.

If that happens, if the Chariot kills all three of us tonight and the Magician falls, the Trials will be over. The new Cinque will be anointed, just as selfish and terrible as the last. The Chariot’s concubines will still be trapped, Cato’s mother among them.

Calvin’s and Dea’s and Luce’s deaths will have served their purpose. Mara’s death will be for nothing. All these people who lived and loved and only died because they had the misfortune of meaning something to the champions of the Tarot Trials.

We have to bring the Chariot down. Our original plan to trap him in close quarters won’t work here, so we either need to get to the damned doors or figure out how to stop his momentum in the arena.

“Kestrel!”

I throw myself to the side on instinct. My left shoulder takes the brunt of the impact and pain blossoms in the back of my throat, so intense I actually gag on it. The Chariot passes by close enough I can feel the displaced air from his movement and hear his wet, heavy breathing.

I pull my legs to my chest to make myself a smaller target, but my mind is racing. This isn’t working. What did we think we could accomplish here? Did we really believe we could win?

And still, the sounds of the Wands cheering permeate every part of the arena. They sound like a hungry beast being fed on our pain and fear. I thought I knew my capacity for hate before. I was wrong.

I lunge to my feet and cast a wild look around. I’m three-quarters of the way to the doors that will get us out of here. Cato has veered left, clearly attempting to draw the Chariot away from me and Vesper. And Vesper is … Fuck, they’ve barely made it more than a few feet from where Cato left them.

I don’t have a plan when I draw my shadows close and step, crossing the great distance between us in a single moment. I need to get them to safety. I couldn’t save Mara. I’ll be damned before I fail to save Vesper.