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The shadows throughout the room flicker in and out of being. I’m not sure if the others can even see them because they don’t flinch when the dark arms swirl past them.

Maybe this is a gift from Arwan, I think as I watch them. King Njord is an Undertaker monster, which I should guess means he has powers similar to my own mate’s.

They don’t share a realm, necessarily, but their powers might overlap. That would explain a few things.

Such as why Arwan is so interesting and useful to King Njord.

I don’t realize I’m staring at the ugly monarch until he turns his attention to me and begins to speak.

“We have a special announcement today. Candidate Liliana, come here,” he demands as he holds out his knobby hand.

My entire body freezes, then obeys as if he had used an Alpha voice on me. I find myself unsteadily trekking through the room until I scale the steps to the stage and take my place at King Njord’s side.

He rests his hand on my shoulder, and I lock my knees.

Godric growls but has the sense not to interfere.

King Njord smiles as if amused by the pack master. “This little treasure has provided quite the entertainment for us, hasn’t she?” he asks, earning a roar from the crowd.

“I have a name,” I snarl, earning complete silence from the crowd.

Everyone stares at me.

Shit, did I just say that out loud?

“Liliana Rinhold,” the king purrs. His voice is low, but it carries throughout the room and settles uneasily inside my chest.

He knows exactly who I am.

“I paid a pretty price for you. As usual, your brother does not disappoint. He’ll be delighted to see you again, assuming you survive the games.”

My mind reels.

Isn’t my brother dead?

But… King Njord is an Undertaker monster.

Does that mean…

“Bring forth the prisoner!” he shouts, his screeching words grating against my senses as the curtains part and Ze’ev is brought out in chains.

My body lurches for him. He’s bruised and bloody, and his hair is in disheveled tufts over his face. The king locks his gnarled fingers around my shoulder, keeping me in place.

“Mating without the king’s blessing is a grave offense,” he says with a click of his tongue. With a swirl of his finger, a strange thread illuminates between Ze’ev and me. The king wraps his fingertips around it and tugs.

I groan as pain jerks inside my chest. Ze’ev does the same.

Then two smaller tethers appear, darker, but just as viable, slinking through the air to connect Godric and Arwan to me.

“Three sponsors. One illegal mate. What shall we do with this one, my court?” the king asks. The crackly amusement in his voice drips with smugness.

As well as a manic edge that warns me he’d just as soon kill us all as let us live.

“Life!” shouts one, earning another hush over the crowd.

With wide eyes, I track the voice until I find Renalt rolling back his shoulders and curling his fingers into fists.

“Renalt d’Burgeous,” King Njord purrs. “You’re not her sponsor, so you cannot nominate her. But I will honor your request for life.”