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Esme doesn’t respond or lift her head from her hands. My words didn’t have the effect I’d hoped. Outside, someone sings, drunk and off-key.

I sigh. Sitting around hiding from the problem and pretending things are good won’t do either of us any good. “Come on, let’s go outside. No point in wasting tonight worrying about tomorrow.” If tonight is going to be my last, I’d rather spend it in the sky. Barring that, I’ll spend it under the sky with her.

I pry Esme’s hands from her face, which is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen despite the blotchiness and tear tracks. When she doesn’t stand right away, I pull on her hands so she has to, and then I keep hold of her hand as I lead her from the tent.

Still pouting, she follows me out, twisting her free hand in the hem of her tunic.

I drop down on the grass near the tent entrance. “Sit.”

She settles next to me with her shoulder pressed against mine. The contact grounds me, reminding me why I’m thinking of fighting a man who’s never lost a battle. For her and all the people afflicted by the Withering and Hollow Ones. And for myself. To prove I’m the strongest one in the arena, no matter what they say about the Onyx Knight.

Around us, a sense of tranquility descends over the grounds. Tents rustle in the slight breeze. Laughter from people too drunk or stubborn to sleep yet rings out across the field. Above, the stars wheel slowly across the sky.

Esme tips her head to rest against my shoulder.

We stay like that for a while, just existing in the same space. It’s the calmest I’ve felt in a long, long time, the clamor inside me finally silent.

Dawn will come eventually. The tournament officials will call my name. I’ll walk into that arena and face the Onyx Knight, and one of us won’t walk back out.

Probably me. Let’s be honest. The smart money’s on me dying.

But right now, with Esme’s shoulder against mine as the stars glitter overhead, I’m still alive and clinging to something real.

I stay put, determined to savor the feeling of her body beside me as I wait for dawn.

Chapter Forty-Two

Agnar

Twenty thousand people pack into stands that groan under their weight, the overflow spilling into the aisles and walkways. Some attendees hover overhead on wings or flying mounts. They create a wall of noise that batters my ears as I try to center myself. The arena stinks of blood, spilled ale, bodies, and old food.

I roll my shoulders. The pauldrons shift wrong, catching on the breastplate. It’ll slow me down. Maybe a fraction of a second on each movement. Against a normal opponent, that wouldn’t matter.

Against the Onyx Knight, it might be the difference between life or death. I’m going to need every edge I can get.

The arena has grown. For the final bout, the lines separating it into four battle zones have been filled in, making the entire field the fighting ground. The expanded space means more room to maneuver. They want this last battle to be a grand spectacle.

I just want it to be over.

I never anticipated that hunting down the source of the Withering and Hollow Ones would lead me into a competition against a legendary warrior. How exactly did I get mixed up in this again?

I glance over my shoulder to the one person I know has my back in all of this.

Esme hangs over the railing, arms wrapped around it. I can’t hear her, but I can read her lips as she screams at me. “I believe in you. Just don't die.”

So reassuring. Thanks, Esme.

The crowd noise swells, horns blare, and the gate at the other end of the fighting field swings back.

He’s here.

The Onyx Knight enters through the far gate.

He stands at least seven feet tall, wrapped in armor so dark that the sun refuses to shine off it. Spikes protrude from the shoulders, waist, elbows, and knees of his armor. Decorative but also functional, each one is a weapon in its own right. His helm is domed and featureless except for two recessed openings for his eyes.

I can’t see anything inside his helmet, just a darkness so absolute that it feels like staring into the space between stars.

He prowls across the sand with patient, unhurried strides. My stomach churns with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, my insides clamoring for a chance to prove myself against such a formidable foe, all alone and without someone else’s magic mixed with my own.