Back inside, Kaleb gave her a look of relief, but before he said anything, Aya held out a blank marker to the vendor. “We’re expecting a cur to join us. Aside from him, no one disturbs us.”

The vendor started, “We have several packages to enhance your enjoyment of the pleasure quarters. The rate for fighters—”

“I’m not interested in bartering. Private room. Another cur will join us. Let me know when our third party arrives.” Aya grabbed Kaleb’s hand and led him to one of the rooms. Inside, she took a handful of salt and chalk and closed the privacy circle. Once that was done, she released Kaleb’s hand and said, “If I intended to kill Zevi, I would’ve done it before I sought you out.”

Kaleb shook his head. “So if it was more advantageous, you’d kill Zevi.”

Aya resisted the urge to smack Kaleb, but he wasn’t Belias. Striking Kaleb wouldn’t be a harmless act; it would have repercussions—and not the sort she liked. “I needed to come to the market, and while I was here, I’ve been watching Zevi so Sol didn’t hurt him.”

Apparently willing to believe her, Kaleb nodded. “Were you here to kill Sol?”

“If I do, we waste an opportunity. When you fight him and win after you were so severely injured, it will make you look invincible.”

“Right now, I doubt I would win,” he interjected.

“I told you: I’m going to change that.” Aya opened a pouch and filled it with the chalk she’d just used to close the circle. “I’m going to make it so you are able to eliminate him.”

Kaleb opened his mouth to speak, but a red ripple went through the circle around them before he did so.

Aya shoved her boot-clad foot across the circle, lowering it and revealing a tense-looking Zevi. The vendor stood beside him with a grin that Aya would have loved to knock off his face. Instead, she gave him her most disdainful look and directed, “I don’t want to be disturbed. Raise a locked circle, and then close the stall for the rest of the night.”

“The rate for a circle like that and closing the rest of the stall—”

“Did I ask rates?” Without looking, she reached out for Zevi’s hand and pulled him into the room. All the while she stared at the vendor. “Go home early, or enjoy the market.”

“The wall will stay intact until the Night Market ends.” The vendor raised a locked circle, bowed hastily, and then fled.

Once he was gone, Aya turned to face the two curs. “You can trust me.”

Kaleb looked at her warily, but Zevi shrugged and crawled into a silk-and-velvet basket that was suspended from the ceiling. He curled up and watched her. “Are you buying us?”

“No,” Kaleb snarled.

“It’s probably for the best.” Zevi swayed so the basket began to swing slightly back and forth. “Kaleb was stabbed pretty high up too, so I’m not sure if he would be of any use.” He paused and glanced at Kaleb. “If she did buy us, could you—”

“Z, stop,” Kaleb snapped.

Aya shook her head. “I’m not buying you, either of you. You will stay here and rest. It’s safe, warm, comfortable, and clean. There’s food and drink.”

“And what are you going to do?” Kaleb asked. “You reserved a pleasure stall so we could all sleep? I have a home. So do you. Explain.”

No one in The City knew what she was about to reveal to the two curs staring at her. It was the secret underlying her choice to enter the competition, to refuse to wed Belias, to struggle not to have children. If Zevi and Kaleb were untrustworthy, she would die. It was that simple. Every choice she’d made the past two years had been to protect the secret she had to now reveal.

She looked at Kaleb and asked softly, “Are we partners, Kaleb?”

“We blood-oathed,” Kaleb said.

She tucked the pouch of chalk into her pocket. “I would rather not show you this, but I can’t see any way around it.”

At that, Aya stepped through the circle as if it weren’t there. The circle didn’t waver or fall. The room was still securely sealed. The circle was—to their eyes—an impenetrable barrier. From outside the circle, she watched their mutual expressions of shock. It was with no small relief that she saw that they didn’t look horrified or frightened.

Zevi leaped out of the basket.

Aya stepped back across the still-intact circle.

“Daimons can’t . . . you shouldn’t . . .” He turned to Kaleb and announced in an awed voice, “She’s not all daimon.”

Kaleb said nothing. He hadn’t moved either; he stared at her with an expressionless face. She tore her gaze away from him as Zevi came to stand as close as he could get without touching her. “Can I smell you?”

“Not everywhere,” Aya cautioned him.

He, at least, was not disturbed by what she was. Zevi already had his nose on her throat before she finished her answer. He sniffed her everywhere but her crotch and buttocks. All the while, Aya stood motionless, watching Kaleb watch them.

“She smells fine,” Zevi announced.

“Which is how she’s avoided exposure.” Kaleb didn’t stand. “Your father wasn’t your blood father.”

Aya gave him a tight smile. “Neither of my parents is blood. The witch who placed me with my parents had spelled them to think I was their own, and to tell me the truth when I was old enough. They had no idea.”

“But you couldn’t hide it if you married,” Kaleb said, pointing out the truth she wished she could’ve told Belias.

It hurt, hearing it said so bluntly. She’d agonized over telling Belias, but he—like many ruling-caste daimons, including her parents—hated witches. They didn’t even sanction marriage out of their caste, much less out of species. She forced herself to sound as calm as she could, and said, “I’m not suited to marriage anyhow, but yes, I learned that it would be dangerous to breed. A child couldn’t hide this—and I have no way of suppressing another’s magic as my birth mother did mine.”

“So you murdered your betrothed? Was that because he knew?”

Her temper flared, and the temptation to show Kaleb how easily she could kill flared with it. Instead, she said, “I won my match. I did not murder my former betrothed. There is a difference.”

“Not to Belias,” Kaleb pointed out.

Aya did not tell him he was wrong, that Belias was alive. There were few lives she’d put before her safety, but Belias was one of them. She knew it was stupid, dangerous in ways she didn’t want to consider, but she couldn’t kill Belias. He won’t escape. He won’t return and expose me. She wasn’t sure anyone but her would understand how much she loved Belias. He certainly wouldn’t, and it wasn’t Kaleb’s business. Rather than address that topic, she merely shook her head. “I could have killed Bel or a lot of others without touching if I needed to, but I didn’t. I didn’t use the fight to kill him, and I didn’t use magic to win my fights. With one exception, I fought with the same resources as every other daimon in the competition.”

“So is that the plan? You’re going to use witchery to heal me or something?” Kaleb asked.

“Yes, but to do so I need to take the health from someone else. I need you in a circle while I do the next step. I was going to come to the cave, but this will work fine. Rest or whatever. I’ll be back before the circle drops.”

And then Aya left them in the pleasure stall and went to get the supplies she needed to even the match with Sol.

CHAPTER 18

BELIAS LOOKED UP, EXPECTING to see the witch who held him in her summoning circle. Instead, he saw his former betrothed. Aya had come for him.

“Hurry before she gets back,” Belias urged. “I don’t know how you got here . . . or how I got here but—” His words died as the witch came in the door behind her, carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches.

“I trust you can handle . . . everything. I’ve brought food,” the witch said.