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High in the lower stands, a little boy sat on his father’s shoulders, both hands clamped over his ears against the drums. He was too small for the noise. Too small for the spectacle. But his eyes were huge as he stared down into the arena, not excited like the others, just overwhelmed.

Tavi, Tavi, Tavi, his mind sang. He was all Ryneth saw.

Not his face, not really. Just the shape of him. Those small shoulders and thin wrists. That look children got when they were trying very hard not to be afraid in front of adults.

The memory made him choke.

Nereth Solan.

That voice. It moved through his mind, as clear as if it had been spoken beside him.

You don’t need to be cruel to stand between violence and the people it wants.

Ryneth went still.

“Sir?” the guard asked, hesitating. “Are you⁠—”

Then the great double doors split open behind him.

The arena erupted.

Ryneth turned as Luminary guards marched Bekn onto the sand in a black formation, chains bright at his wrists, two more at his elbows, forcing him forward. The purple prison jumpsuit clung harshly to his frame under the floodlights, ugly and unmistakable against the gold of the arena. His hair was a mess, his mouth bloodied, but his eyes were alive with hate the second they found Ryneth.

Whatever Ryneth had wanted to say—apology, excuse?—died when he saw the look of hatred on the blond man’s face.

“There he is.” Bekn chuckled, voice carrying far too well. “Helion’s newest little executioner.”

Ryneth felt sick. But the crowd loved it, roaring louder as they watched the horror unfold.

One of the guards yanked his chain, but Bekn barely reacted. His smile widened knowingly. “Hear them, Ryneth? Same sound as the night they put you in a cage. Different arena, same game.”

Ryneth went still. Static licked over his knuckles. “I’m not like you.”

Bekn’s smile sharpened. “No. You’re worse. Your kind are the reason I created Attica. Because our people were bleeding by the hands of our Imperial family. Because Helion wanted heroes and got monsters. And now they’ve made another one.”

He leaned forward as far as the chains allowed, the guards tightening around him instantly. “I saw you that night, remember?” His smile turned sharp. “Pretty thing in a cage. Sold under bright lights.”

Ryneth swallowed. The words hit home.

Bekn’s eyes glittered knowingly. “And now look at you. Bought again by Helion after they shipped you off like trash.”

A low murmur rolled through the crowd. They were getting impatient.

“Not bought,” Ryneth snapped.

Bekn grinned wider. “No?” He lifted his shackled hands as far as he could. “Then what do you call it? The Imperial gave you away, Ryneth. He handed you to his pet cousin.” His gaze cut back to Ryneth with deliberate cruelty. “To Helion’s youngest weapon. And now he has you.”

Ryneth’s jaw locked. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“I know enough.” Bekn’s voice sharpened. “I know you were trembling when they put you in that cage. I know Helion dragged you home and dressed you up in gold.” He looked Ryneth over from head to toe, slow and ugly. “And now they want you to kill on command so the whole city can clap.”

The crowd noise blurred into something meaner. Hungrier. As if they could hear their conversation and agreed.

Stop it. He’s just riling you up. You’re not like them.

Not. Like. Them.

Sand pressed into the soles of Ryneth’s boots. The first hard snap of static jumped between his fingers. “I’m here to kill you.”