Leto couldn’t go through with what they suggested. He still had his sister to care for. This was the final match before earning his reward for Pell. Her well-being had been his aim for nearly four months, since first meeting his new neophyte.

Let it go, a deep, greedy voice said. You can’t afford to care.

He could take care of Pell. He could . . .

“And what of Nynn?” he asked, having known the whole time that he couldn’t leave her out of his decision.

Silence selected her preferred shield, the one with the serrated edges. Hark shrugged, then hefted the nearest nighnor. “Her brain is a mud puddle. Tell us a way to guarantee her restored mental health and we’re all over that. Ready to skip right to the endgame.”

Nynn was falling away from him. Things that fell eventually crashed and shattered. For nearly two months, he’d lived with the shadow of who she was. He’d sworn to keep her safe. In body, she was, whereas he was cursed with too many overlapping memories that swirled into gray clouds. At night, when he slept alone in his dorm, he simply remembered her kiss, her smile, and the feel of her body. That satisfaction was gone now. Knowing it had existed at all was an internal scar he would bear for the rest of his life, one spent in darkness and brightly lit Cages.

During the waking hours, however, he watched her. Had she given him any sign, he would’ve been able to select the right course. A softening of her expression? She might have forgiven him and he would work to get Nynn back. A frown of confusion as old memories filtered through? She might be close to breaking past the barriers in her mind.

He’d seen nothing except the balls of energy she hurled around the practice Cage. All he knew, all he felt, was her fury. It blotted out everything else.

“No.” Leto grabbed a mace and a shield, strapping the latter in place. “I won’t go through with it. If you try, I’ll take you both down.”

“You’d rather let her sleepwalk through the next ten years?” Hark was smiling again, but the expression was cruel, completely void of mirth. “Or until some Kawashima or Townsend bastard takes off her head at the next Grievance? She’d die and she wouldn’t even know the reason. Her little boy . . .”

“How did you know that?” Leto growled.

“Silence and patience. I have my partner, Leto of Garnis. Yours seems to have gone missing. Tell me these last few weeks haven’t been like fire under your skin.”

“Shut up, you Thief bastard.”

“And you’re a remnant of the Lost.” Hark stepped back, hands spread wide. One still held the nighnor. “How appropriate. So lost.”

Silence looked between them, until her bizarre tickling voice became real sound. “I don’t want to be numb. She said that to you.”

She’d actually spoken, and the words cut Leto to his heart.

The two departed, with Hark calling over his shoulder, “Good hunting, my friend.”

Leto stood, chest out and spine straight. He no longer wanted to be numb either. He’d been selfish for too long. After this match, with Pell safe, he would do what Nynn needed—even if that meant tearing into her thoughts with his bare hands.

He looked down at his hands. Scarred. Calloused. Too many years of abuse for his body to repair itself. If using force would make this better, he would’ve done it already.

♦   ♦   ♦

Nynn smiled at Silence and Hark as they entered the Cage. It was a nasty smile. It felt nasty on her lips. Yet she would’ve traded her partner for either of those Sath Thieves. Leto of Garnis was still shackled to her—although not literally. No one entered the ring to bind them together. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach another such round. Chained as a pair, they took the applause as a pair. The champion of the Asters got to take equal credit when her gift blew the air out of their opponents’ lungs.

She wanted to scratch the tattoo on her shoulder. Scratch. Peel. Rip it off. This was her third match. Leto fought for a promise for his sister. Nynn intended to appeal to the Old Man. A new tattoo. A serpent. One that proved she belonged among his best warriors.

First she needed to win.

Thousands of people bellowed their eagerness to get the evening’s final match under way. Nynn bounced on the balls of her feet, back and forth, and loosened the ligaments of her shoulders. Leto had wanted her to use the whip-thin sword edged with gold. She’d stuck with her heavier, austere choice and her right arm had compensated. She was stronger now. Strong enough to take her place as the Asters’ champion.

The bell sounded.

The collars winked out.

The fight was on.

Nynn had gained so much control of her gift, but it remained a slow process. Build the energy. Release it. She hovered back as Leto took on the paired Thieves. Her opportunity would come. If she had her say, her partner would stand dead center of the blast.

Leto was in fine form. Fast. So fast. By the time his eyes set on a target, his body was already there. The mace swirled in his wake like a contrail.

She shook her head. Pressed fingers to her temples. Sometimes words came to her that didn’t make sense. She saw the image of a plane, with a defined trail of white lancing the blue sky in its wake.

She lived in the complex. She was losing . . . missing . . . something.

“Move!”

Nynn snapped back into her head with a crash. Leto’s warning had come just in time. She raised her shield and deflected Hark’s pouncing assault. He’d stolen Leto’s agility and speed. She landed on her back, shield over her chest, with Hark balanced there—practically squatting. He looked over the rim with that infuriating smile.

“Are you sure you don’t like being numb?”

Mouth open, Nynn couldn’t speak, could barely think. She let her body take over. The collars reactivated, so it was strength against strength. She used momentum and a trick of balance to fling Hark away. Bounding to her feet, she found Leto dodging Silence’s fierce shield.

The break was brief, as the collars deactivated again. Her gift, coming and going on a whim, was like drowning—catching a breath—drowning again. Whoever was in charge had shortened the bursts, perhaps to compensate for her ability. She couldn’t get the rhythm of it. Every time she gathered enough concentration to hurl a ball of energy, she lost it again.

No.

It wasn’t the collars this time.

The Sath had teamed up to take the power from her. Beyond a blue blaze of light and her own red fury, she saw Hark laughing. Silence was nearly . . . sympathetic.

Leto’s shout was drowned in a sea of pure energy. The force slammed into her like taking a wrecking ball to the chest. The back of her head connected with one of the octagonal frames. She had a brief moment of déjà vu. Once, long ago, she’d let go—let it all go—and had wound up with her head smacked flat against the pole.

Then the image was gone, because she was screaming. Fire lanced across her body. She practically felt the metal of her armor dissolving into hot glue. Or, Dragon-damn, maybe that was her skin. Her nerves swam and collided. No relief. No air. No telling up from down from death. Her lungs felt crushed in on themselves. Even if she had a thousand bones, they would all be shattered. Pain beckoned her toward unconsciousness. She tried to keep her eyes open but failed.

With her body made vulnerable, and her brain left defenseless, a concussive force of another kind slammed through her skull.

Crowds? A Cage?

Leto was shouting at the Sath. “What the fuck was that?”

“A test,” Hark replied. “We can’t rely on a weak link.”

At the man’s mock salute, Leto took up his mace as if to resume the fight. The crowd thundered its approval.

“Leto!”

Her scream jerked his head. He ignored both Hark and that thumping call to violence by kneeling beside Nynn. He lifted her head and brought it to rest across his thighs. A manic bubble gurgled up from what was left of her consciousness. “Not a good pillow.”