Shunting those thoughts aside, he focused on a more pressing matter. He felt as if eyes followed him everywhere. Aster had seen Nynn and Kilgore together, and what Leto had done to punish them both. Who was to say they were alone, completely alone, in the training arena?

Why hadn’t he ever considered that possibility before?

Because since his youth, he’d never done anything to make being observed a concern.

The guards were especially wary of him. Since he’d been attacked from behind—and because, frankly, he’d taken to believing all the human rabble looked alike—he didn’t know whether these two men had done him harm. He wanted retribution. He fisted his hands and kept walking toward the Dragon Kings’ quarters. They flanked him closely. He couldn’t remember the last time a human had thought to encroach on his space.

In trying to save Nynn from the inevitable, he’d lost much of his standing in the complex. Only a fresh victory—still doubtful—would help restore his importance and trustworthiness.

At least Nynn was on his side for the first time. She wanted to control her powers.

He knocked on a dorm room door. A haggard-looking old Indranan woman name Ulia answered. What must’ve once been the golden, flawless skin of a Dragon King woman was creased with wrinkles and so wan as to be unnerving. She might be two hundred years old, for all Leto knew. Stooped. Gray-haired. Eyes clouded to the point of blindness. She didn’t need sight. Her telepathy meant she used other people’s eyes to compensate for her own.

One of many, many reasons why Leto avoided her.

She had once fought in early Cage matches. Her telepathy was legendary among those who’d served the Asters—and likely among those who’d feared facing her in a Grievance. Only when she’d lost her leg to a Pendray berserker did the Old Man offer her freedom. She’d refused. After decades in the complex, the outside world held no appeal. She had purpose among the other warriors.

The outside world is frightening.

At his own errant thought, Leto bit his back teeth together. He wasn’t afraid of anything. Only the thought of disappointing the Old Man and risking the safety of his family held any sting. Surely Dr. Aster would tell his father of Leto’s transgressions. He had a lot of ground to make up with his mentor. That was important. The outside world held no appeal because it couldn’t honor a skilled warrior. Where else would he be hailed as a living god? Nowhere but in the Cages.

“Young Garnis,” she said, her smile cagey. “No courtesy for your elders? No greeting? This is no time for conversation.”

The night was in its ninth hour. Not quite time to rouse. Dragon Kings renewed on a twenty-six-hour cycle. Ten sleeping. Sixteen waking. The actual hours of an Earth day had no impact belowground. That he hadn’t slept in longer than he could remember was probably doing his judgment no favors.

He wondered how Nynn and the Dragon Kings coped while living among the humans. Perhaps they adjusted as Yeta had, learning to accept the constant touch of sluggishness that came with being awakened too soon from a solid rest. Perhaps that had affected Nynn’s ability to channel her gift. She’d never been in touch with the rhythm of body.

“My neophyte. You’ve heard talk of her, I’m sure.”

“The Giva’s cousin. How could anyone close their ears to such a temptation? And she’s to partner with you.”

“As the Old Man bids.”

Her grin widened. It was unnatural to see a Dragon King use such a breadth of facial expressions. Ulia was animated, as was Hark—that disturbing, chattering jester. Leto had only just gotten used to the variety Nynn could produce. Perhaps other rumors—that Ulia was just as mad as she was powerful—could be true as well. No one outside of their clan knew how the Indranan’s gifts worked. For all Leto knew, she had three personalities in that small, almost shrunken old head, grappling for control. Perhaps they only came together when it was time to crawl into someone else’s mind.

He stiffened his back to hide a shudder. The Pendray were easy to understand. Simple brawn and mindless rage. The Sath were secretive but manageable thieves. When the Tigony weren’t playing Tricksters and sidling up to their human subjects, their gift of concentrated electricity could be evaded. Fellow Garnis—well, that was just a matter of knowing one’s own weaknesses and turning the tables. So few of the Lost remained that Leto had never faced one in competition. Frankly, he didn’t know if he could kill one of his own.

But the Indranan. They were so devious, with a gift so potentially devastating, that a millennia-old feud had broken the clan in two. Northern versus Southern, separated by the Indian Ocean. They would kill a fellow member of their clan as surely as they would kill a sibling.

Revolting people.

“She was blocked at the onset of her gift,” he said. “She’s needs it reversed.”

“As the Old Man bids.”

“How do you mean?”

“He instructed me to provide any services you requested for your neophyte. What is her name?”

The surprise of Ulia’s statement came first. Was Nynn so valuable that the Old Man hadn’t trusted Leto with her training? The truth—that Leto had been unable to see her properly prepared—lanced shame between his ribs.

Then came another concern. The Indranan witch didn’t know Nynn’s name? Perhaps she was playing games. Testing his patience. Or pretending to be a doddering crone. She might not know Nynn’s name. Maybe she hadn’t cared to learn, or had forgotten.

And she was going to have the whole of Nynn’s consciousness to mold.

Leto had learned as a young man that few would discuss having blocked the gifts of a loved one. Fewer still wanted to talk about the particulars. He only had two experiences to draw from: his own and Pell’s. One had succeeded in bringing order to frenzy. One had failed, leaving a husk of a young woman.

The ceremonies were private for a reason. This was a time when minds touched. Vulnerabilities could be exploited when both individuals slipped into the world on top of the world. Of course Leto’s had been private as well. Much to his agony. That time alone had given his telepath free rein to exert physical as well as mental dominance. Leto still bore a trio of parallel scars on the backs of both calves. Not only that, he carried a crystalized, infallible memory of the moment those wounds were inflicted.

The guards walked them back to the arena, but their vigilance was waning. Like all the humans, they worked on a different sleep cycle. After twelve days, the day guards became night guards. Always a species out of step.

Locked once again in the training arena, Leto led Ulia toward the entrance to the Cage. He presented the stooped-back woman to Nynn, who still looked like a shredded piece of cloth. Blood had caked in slashes across her back. Blond hair was streaked pink at her nape. She moved with noticeable pain when she pushed away from the wire framework. Her icy gaze moved instantly to Ulia’s prosthetic.

“Don’t worry about staring, young one,” Ulia said. “Lost it in a match. No shame. I still won.”

“That’s . . . good.”

Nynn’s posture had changed. Stiff. Wary. But she straightened her graceful shoulders, even if the adjustment pinched her lush lower lip. He’d tasted that mouth and he knew that stance. She’d made up her mind to be stubborn. At least it wasn’t aimed at him for once. He’d come to depend on her resilience. Unlike Dr. Aster, his goal had never been to see her cowed. He’d only wanted her to be an asset, strong and working with him side by side.

A partner. This was how she would become his.

Even if he only thought of it in practical terms, he needed her. Other emotions—darker, needier, unfamiliar—had no place in a warrior’s mind.

“Our champion says you’ve been blocked.” Ulia tsked. “Not right. Dragon Kings deserve the full use of their gifts.”