“This way,” he said. “The Old Man wants to meet you before the matches begin.”

Although the guards technically encircled them, Leto strode through the maze of hallways, sloping corridors, and stairwells as if he’d been born to the task. Very nearly. Every glance she shot toward his profile revealed the same locked-down expression. Stoic, calm, but with a concealed, buzzing energy. Maybe it was the way his eyes never stopped moving, or the way he occasionally slid his jaw from side to side. From Leto, it was practically fidgeting.

She anticipated the moment they would stand together in the Cage and she would see when the collars deactivated. His powers returned to him. Sexual release had never looked so enticing. She wanted to see it, then see it again—a unexpected reward for surviving each match.

“Leto,” came a voice.

Beneath wrapped leather, the hair on Nynn’s forearms tried to stand on end. Those on her nape did. Before their assembly of large men and formidable women, all deadly warriors, stood warped and stooped Old Man Aster. He supported his weight with a cane, although there wasn’t much to support. Skeletons had more bulk and more color. He was a corpse with a jester’s wide smile.

“And Nynn,” he continued. “Welcome. I anticipate what you have to show us this evening.”

“I hope to earn your respect, sir.”

He angled a bizarre look toward Leto. “Interesting.”

That seemed . . . anticlimactic. He added an extra layer of strange to the moment by turning to greet other combatants. Was he that detached?

She caught up with Leto’s long strides. “How many times did you say that the Old Man had picked me out? That he had some big plan for me?”

They were admitted to a weapons room, full to brimming with every manner of metal and steal and wood. “Enough for you to believe it,” he said, selecting his favorite. The mace.

“And that was all we get? A sneer and a noncommittal comment? He should’ve offered some kind of congratulations.”

“He didn’t sneer.” From a wall of swords and daggers, he selected three before turning to face her. “And why congratulate a warrior who has yet to win? There’s no value in praise offered before it’s earned.”

“Is that why you never congratulate me?”

Leto’s eyes glimmered, as black and shining as the accents on his armor. They narrowed. Dark brows drew together. Only a person who was really looking for those clues would find them. “If we win, we’ll be congratulating each other. You remember what I said about how warriors are rewarded, don’t you?”

“Sex.”

“Yes.”

“Winner’s choice.”

“Yes,” he said again, his intensity as strong as any touch.

Nynn stepped to within inches of his armored masculine beauty. She lifted her hands and cupped his skull, tracing her thumbs along his temples. The head and the tail of the serpent. “And what happens if we both win? Will you choose me, Leto?”

“No. You’ll choose me.” He pulled away from her hands, turning toward the wall of weapons. “Now. We will select your dagger.”

♦   ♦   ♦

He didn’t make a suggestion. He didn’t even hold one blade slightly more forward than the others. All he did was present them as equals. Other warriors from the Aster family came and went, took what they needed. Their insults and buoyant boasts were the buzzing of insects. Leto would shut them all out until he needed to see them again—as opponents, or as victorious comrades.

He only waited for Nynn. “Choose.”

“You said ‘we’ will select. That implies you giving me a clue.”

“These are the three that will best fit your frame and the size of your hands. They’re lightweight, sturdy, and you should be able to hold on to them even when you use your gift.”

The trio gleamed in the armory’s ambient lighting. One was decorated with gold leaf. One copper, edged in green. One plain steel.

“So is this some sort of test? Pick the plain one. Or pick the ugly one. Dragon forbid I go all girly and choose the pretty one.”

“It’s a test, but not like that. How well do you know your abilities?”

A tight pressure gathered in his lungs, which were already tight from the prospect of sharing one another after their victory. They had to get there first. No matter his outward confidence—confidence in himself, really—he couldn’t deny that Nynn was a wild animal.

As for the long daggers, he knew which one would make her a champion. He wanted her to know as well. Proof he’d done well. Proof they had more than a chance at victory.

I intend to be astonishing.

He wanted that nearly as much as he wanted victory for himself. And afterward, after the applause . . . they would unleash that potency on each other. Dragon damn, he wanted this woman.

“Let me hold them,” she said.

Leto nodded. Yes, that was the first step toward making the right choice.

One by one, she took the blades in hand. Hark and Silence entered the armory. Per their custom, he chose a silver nighnor and she picked a shield with a slim profile and razor-sharp edges. Both stopped, watched Nynn for a moment, then moved on. Hark was markedly quieter than usual. Before a match, even their resident chatterbox had enough sense to know when to shut up.

“This one,” Nynn said.

Something close to disappointment settled in his lungs, as if he breathed heavier air. She’d chosen the plain steel sword. Fine. A good weapon. But it was not as elegant as her movements. The blade had little give and no flair.

“Good enough,” he managed to say.

What had happened to the easy confidence he’d felt during the ride over? The closer they got to the start of the match, the more he doubted.

“You think I made a bad choice?”

“You made a choice. Who knows what way the match will play out.” He handed her a particular shield, offering no room for error this time. “We haven’t much time.”

Nynn gnashed her upper teeth into her lower lip. She shook her head. “You’re impossible. I’m trying to learn and you’re playing cryptic master of secrets.”

“What happened to being astonishing?”

“It’d be nice if I had some help!”

“Shut up, neophyte.”

“Save it for Hellix, sir.” She strapped the scabbard around her waist. “Now, who do we butcher first?”

“Is this still a joke to you? Even still? Dragon damn, woman. I will not step foot in a Cage with you if that’s how you think.”

“Go take it up with the Old Man.”

She hefted her shield into place. The pivot of her heel turned her in a perfect half circle.

She froze, screamed, and drew her sword. Because Dr. Aster stood in the doorway, with the Pet at his feet.

Leto jumped forward and hauled her away. “Put that away, you maniac,” he growled.

Nynn blinked and . . . she did as she was told.

Leto’s heart became a wild beast, beating and clawing, as she sheathed her weapon. If he’d needed any more proof that Ulia had changed Nynn, perhaps irrevocably, he had it now.

Dr. Aster smiled, just short of repulsive. “My father informed me that tonight would be a special occasion. Our newest champion?”

Leto nodded, his stomach lurching. “She is untested, but I believe her ready to honor the Asters.”

“Good. Then many lessons were learned the other night.” He glanced at Nynn, who was puzzled. Or angry. Or sleepwalking. Leto couldn’t tell, but Dr. Aster seemed very pleased. “And what do you say, neophyte? What is your name?”

“Nynn of Clan Tigony.”

“Hmm. I thought you were called something else. Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

Leto slowly let her go. Part of him was convinced this was some elaborate ruse on her part, that she’d attack and murder the reptilian man. Dragon be, part of him wanted that to be true. He was on the verge of caring too much. Nynn’s pain had been so obvious—nearly as obvious as the scars marring her gorgeous body.