Tor slid back to stand at Ash’s side. He didn’t say anything—couldn’t—but with him on one side and Rook on the other, Ash could almost pretend that two gods weren’t discussing her like livestock on a farm.
Ignitus cocked his head. “Interesting.” He clicked his tongue and grinned at Ash.
She hated him. She hated him, and she feared everything about the look he gave her.
“A proposal, Geoxus,” Ignitus said. “Let’s give the crowd a taste of the events to come. Your young champion against mine—but without energeia. We’ll put true skill to the test, the talents your obscure fighter supposedly has against the training and superior breeding of mine.”
Disagree, Ash begged Geoxus.Cast him off—
But Geoxus smiled and snapped his fingers.
The viewing box rumbled and a staircase indented from the railing all the way down to the fighting pit. The crowd on either side of the newly appeared path shouted in awe, the exclamation rippling across the stadium.
“Ready the boy,” Geoxus told a nearby servant. “Clear a space below.”
One servant scurried down the stairs for the stage; others followed and began shooing the trainees back.
A space cleared, a perfect circle on the velvet sands. A fighting ring.
Someone in the sand whooped with excitement. It caught like stray flames, and soon everyone was hooting and cheering. “Fight!” they chanted. “Fight! Fight!”
“Ash Nikau.” Ignitus said her name loud. He set a hand on her shoulder and she staggered, fighting a wince. “You will bring glory to Kula.”
It was a command. It was a threat.
Ash turned, pulling out of Ignitus’s grip, though he hadn’t dismissed her. But she couldn’t think rationally, could barely see enough to manage one foot in front of the other toward the stairs.
Now. She was going to fight a Deiman gladiatorright now.
“The gods demand a match!” The announcer’s voice shifted, alight with eagerness. “Two of their champions will fight to the surrender in a test of physical strength—no energeia!”
Ash’s stomach cramped. The crowd crooned. No energeia meant the fight would be for indulgence—just fists. Just talent.
She could do that. Char and Tor had trained her in every type of combat.
Tor and Rook started down the staircase ahead of her so Ignitus couldn’t call them back or argue for them to stay. She focused on their rigid backs as she descended, and when they hit the sand, a path to themakeshift ring through the gladiator trainees waited. Some cheered like the crowd; a few whistled at her.
Ash walked toward the fighting ring, numb.
Tor caught her arm. “Ash.” His voice was deep and heavy, and to the people around, it looked as though he was offering her a final tip.
“I’ll ask Ignitus,” she whispered. It was all she could think to say, her eyes darting between Tor and Rook. “When I win. I’ll ask him about the rumors.”
“Don’t think about that,” Tor told her. “Think about the fight. Think about right now, and nothing else. Geoxus’s fighter will be sloppy from his limited formal training. He’ll likely only know a few attacks. You can learn his patterns. You can—”
“Tor.” Rook planted a hand in the center of Tor’s chest. “She’ll be fine.”
But the panic in Tor’s eyes stoked the same feeling in Ash’s chest.
She was walking into a fight against a Deiman gladiator. Just like Char had.
“Thanks,” Ash said to him, and to Rook.
She made her way forward, a knot in her throat, a weight in her gut.
That weight matched the heaviness of the ceremonial armor she still wore. It would be a hindrance, but it didn’t seem as though the gods would give her time to change.
Grit crunched beneath her sandals as she stepped into the fighting ring. The empty space around her struck like static.
