Ashe and the other humans were treated like cattle, herded in a tight line from one room to the next without a thought. Rough, metallic hands gripped their arms and shoulders, steering them when they slowed. Ashe wanted to fight, wanted to hurt the thing behind those hands, the stink of metal and oil in his nose. But he didn’t. He knew it wasn’t time yet, that he wouldn’t get anywhere without the confusion of battle, without the cover of chaos.

  Ashe stiffened as he felt power wash over him, a cold wave that sent a tremble through his limbs and drew sweat to his forehead.

  “Hello.” The voice was calmer and softer than before. But Ashe was certain. It was Leanor. “It’s nice to meet you. I will be preparing you for the battle to come.”

  The beads around his neck pulsed fast, too much, like they were screaming for revenge. Ashe didn’t act. He waited. The death of one of them was good. The death of all of them was better.

  Leanor stood in the room, eyes fixed on Ashe even as the others watched with intent, their gazes glimmering between fear and admiration. But he didn’t care. That boy was his only hope.

  Every word he spoke was forced, a sick, acrid taste behind each kind gesture. All he wanted was to see the universe burn, and his father to beg for death. He took a step forward, his magic flaring around him, specks of color dancing in the air as he watched their reactions.

  A few of the humans fell to their knees. A few stood frozen, unable to move, unable to think.

  But Ashe’s defiance was clear. The red pulse around his neck pushed back, fighting Leanor’s energy. The necklace had become part of him, more than Leanor had expected. Leanor should have culled him and moved on. Instead, he needed Ashe just as much as Ashe needed him.

  Ashe flinched as the power around him vanished and the beads went silent, cold. Then a hand rested on his shoulder, cool through the fabric, and a voice slid into his ear before he could react. “You better be ready.”

  Ashe tried to swallow, but all the moisture in his mouth had vanished.

  He just nodded as Leanor pulled his hand back.

  Leanor stepped away. Stone cracked underfoot, a sharp sound that rang in Ashe’s ears, a hairline fracture splitting across the slab near his boot.

  “Follow me.” For a second, nothing. Ashe had learned that meant people were signaling something. “We should go to the training halls. The battle begins in two days. It would be best to use this time for something other than sleeping.” He let out a chuckle, thin and wrong, like it hurt to make it.

  Ashe didn’t say much as the sounds changed, as the clatter of stone vanished and gave way to a dry drag underfoot. The heat shifted, hotter and stripped of moisture. The sand wasn’t an arena. It was a testing surface, laid down in a wide bed for traction and control, for watching who slipped and who didn’t.

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  Then Leanor spoke once more, his voice sterner, like he had forgotten the emotion he was supposed to be showing.

  “Stand on the marker when I call you. We will be assessed. Then I will decide the two teams and create a strategy that makes victory most likely.”

  “You first.” Ashe couldn’t tell who he was pointing to, but footsteps scuffed across the sand.

  A hulking man stood before Leanor, his expression stern, his face marred with battle scars.

  Leanor didn’t circle him. He didn’t wait. “Attack.”

  The man surged forward, slow and uncoordinated, arms flailing at his sides. Leanor stepped aside, swift and clean.

  “Stop.”

  The man skidded, sand spraying as he tried to halt. His head turned on a swivel as he tried to find Leanor. When his eyes landed on him, his mouth curled into a snarl and his gaze glinted with hatred.

  Leanor was beside him before he could blink. He drove a hand into the man’s stomach, hard enough that the air burst from his lungs. The man folded and hit the sand, heaving.

  Leanor hauled him up and set him against the wall for the healer to tag. “Slow start. Poor balance. High aggression, low control.”

  Now it was Ashe’s turn. The only one he really cared about.

  Leanor pointed, then remembered. “Ashe, it’s your turn.”

  He expected hesitation, expected something on Ashe’s face. But nothing changed. Ashe’s breathing stayed steady. His limbs didn’t tremble. For a second, Leanor felt like the animal being hunted. He shoved the thought down.

  Leanor readied himself like he had with the other man, but Ashe darted forward before he could react, sand kicking up and bursting around him in a sudden hail. Leanor’s heart jumped as he forced his feet to move. The air shifted, a gust against him as Ashe rushed past.

  Leanor let his magic grow around him.

  Ashe turned, the pulse of red around his neck growing more furious with every second.

  Leanor summoned a dagger into his hand, precise, controlled. “Weapon response test. Limbs only. Healing is standing by.”

  A smile crept onto his face anyway. This was the show of force he’d hoped for, the one he’d wanted.

  His champion.

  Leanor dashed forward, eyes locked on Ashe, dagger aimed at the shoulder. He caught the shift of Ashe’s pupils.

  Ashe rolled his shoulder and slammed a fist into Leanor’s hand. The dagger clattered to the sand. The room fell silent.

  Leanor froze for a second, blinking as he tried to understand what had just happened.

  Then the red pulse flared again, and something ugly snapped through Leanor’s control. Not pride. Not anger. A surge, like the air itself had teeth. Leanor let his magic rush through him like a lightning storm. The air crackled. The world sharpened.

  He was on Ashe before he realized he’d moved. He punched with fury.

  Ashe blocked it, hands calm, face empty.

  The room thundered with the fight, the sound carrying down the hall. Leanor reacted on instinct, slipping a hand beneath Ashe’s guard.

  His fist drove in.

  The crack came from Ashe’s forearm, sharp and close, and Ashe’s breath broke into a grunt as he staggered and dropped to the sand.

  Leanor blinked. The surge was gone. He stared down at his champion on the ground. His emotions had gotten the better of him. Again.

  He snapped his fingers. “Take him to healing.”

  One of the Udur, one of the robotic creatures, darted forward. A green glow flowed from it. When Ashe began to groan, his body knitting back together, Leanor let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

  Leanor couldn’t show the weakness he felt. “All right. Next one, let’s go.”