“Leto.” The Old Man’s voice was as raspy as dead leaves. “You did not emerge as champion.”

“My apologies, sir.”

“No apologies.” His warped smile was a chilling reminder that while Nynn hated the doctor, he was born of equally maniacal stock. “Silence and Hark performed wonderfully, as did you both. The family made a fortune today.”

The Sath pair were infuriating in their ability to match completely blank expressions. Even Hark, the smiling bastard, registered no emotion. Plans and tests and weak links. The Tigony were not the only tricksters among the Five Clans.

Nynn was still missing too many pieces to keep up.

The Old Man grinned and leaned heavily on his cane. “Your performance couldn’t have been more entertaining. I’m very pleased.”

“I’m glad of that, sir,” Leto replied. He sounded humbled but no less arrogant—quite the feat.

“And you, Nynn of Tigony? How do you feel?”

“Gratified that I did my duty for the family.” She couldn’t quite make herself say sir, when calling Leto by that title of respect had become a teasing joke between them.

“Good, good.” The Old Man ushered his son into the conversation. “You kept your partner whole for three matches. Such a remarkable job of training such a stubborn mind.”

Nynn remembered a time in the recent past—Dragon be, so many memories returning—when Leto would’ve taken genuine pleasure in such praise. She didn’t dare assess his expression to see if that was still the case.

Trust. Oh, Dragon damn. Just . . . trust.

“You not only survived, Nynn, but thrived in your natural element. I knew you would become remarkable. Your part in tonight’s drama was equally important.” He spread his hands. “Although you didn’t technically win the fight, I offer your choice of rewards.”

She felt rather than saw Dr. Aster become more attentive. He’d studied her for more than a year. He knew her weaknesses better than she knew her own. But those had been the weaknesses of a distant, grieving woman named Audrey. The sadistic doctor had no idea who she was now.

Long game, Leto had said.

Shutting away the request that Jack be freed was almost simple, but not without pain. She knew what she needed to do—stay hidden—and she would not deviate from that goal. Although she would never sacrifice him for a moment of selfish comfort, she was able to ask for that comfort when there was no choice to make.

“I didn’t technically win the fight,” she said, purposefully echoing his words. “But I would ask for the reward offered a winning warrior. I want a partner tonight. I ask to share Leto’s bed.”

Again, Leto stiffened. She was as attuned to him as she was to her own breath. Anyone with his senses would’ve been able to read them both like fresh newsprint. The men she faced were beasts in anonymous gray suits, but they were still human.

The Pet, however . . .

Hands clasped around the doctor’s upper arm, she made a noise that sounded more feline than human. Contentment? Appreciation? Nynn didn’t think it was because she’d chosen Leto over another warrior. Instead, the strange woman looked up with an expression of having shared a secret victory.

Pale, ethereal, possibly insane, the Pet was a Dragon King. If Nynn had ever doubted, she knew it as fact now. But what clan was she? What power did she possess?

“Request granted,” the Old Man said. “I’m glad to see that the Cages have brought out the more carnal side to a Tigony. No one would’ve expected that, but I enjoy seeing arrogance brought low.”

He glanced toward Leto. He might as well have hunted for signs of life in granite.

“Now, Leto, the time has come to honor the promise we made. Pell will no longer be a burden to Yeta and her young family. You will never need to worry about her future. My son will assume responsibility for her care. She will live out the rest of her days within the safety of his personal residence.”

“His personal residence, sir?”

“Yes, my champion.” A cagey, disgusting glint matched in the eyes of both father and son. “My son never likes to be far from his work. He lives in the labs. And so will Pell.”

Leto needed Nynn’s kindness. Wanted it. Knew his sanity depended on it.

Yet they sat side by side on the bed in his room, not touching. He hadn’t moved since their return, when they’d cleaned and changed clothes. He couldn’t move now. His heart had been carved out with a machete. It no longer beat. It no longer had reason to.

“You held your niece,” she whispered. “You told me so.”

His throat ached. He wanted to claw at it until the collar fell away or his head popped off. Death for a Dragon King. He deserved it after trusting such twisted men. He’d believed their promises, dispatched dozens at their command, and brought damned and innocents alike into the fold—training them, yes, but feeding them the same brainwashed lies.

Only Nynn had ever gotten it right. He was the fool.

His fists looked so powerful resting on his thighs, but he didn’t feel powerful. “Do you trust any of your memories right now?”

She stroked his bare shoulder, soft but not tentative. Her hair smelled of snow. She’d answered that mystery for him: a name for that scent of sharp, crisp air. “You’re right. I don’t trust much of anything, except that I’m here with you.”

“And that makes it better?”

Nynn’s flinch meant he’d gone too far. As her trainer, he would’ve gloried in drawing forth an unchecked show of fear. It would’ve been proof of his intimidation.

He dropped his head into his hands and scraped the back of his skull. She crawled behind him on the bed. After stripping her shirt, she draped across his back and held him around the chest.

“You couldn’t have known.” Her breath stirred him more gently than the precious weight of her lithe torso, but no less intensely. “Whatever they’ve done, they did it to you. They did it to me as well. We’ve had so little to hope for. What person, human or Dragon King, would’ve refused the chances that have been dangled in front of us?”

“They’ve let us stay here together. Another prize, I suppose.” She tightened her hands around two fistfuls of his flesh. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “The things I want aren’t mine to keep. That’s what it is to be a slave.”

Nynn licked the top of his spine. She’d never be able to lick all the way up, reaching his hairline, because the collar barred the way. A barrier he’d worn—suffered under—since his earliest memories. He’d wanted glory and respect. Now he wanted to kiss Nynn’s bare neck and he wanted to see the snow, even if the glare blinded him for days.

And his family. His fear outweighed his hopes now. What had been fighting for their future was now a matter of staying strong just to save them.

“You don’t feel like a slave.” She tensed her fingers again. Dug into skin and muscle. Pressed her breasts more firmly against his back. “You don’t think like a slave. Not anymore.”

Nynn’s ministrations tempted him to dive into her embrace, join with her body, lose his thoughts in a burst of release. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“I held her,” he said quietly. “She was so small that she fit in my two palms. I thought I would drop her until Yeta showed me the right way to hold her. Black hair. Beautiful golden skin. Her face was peaceful when she slept, then tight like a wrinkled ball when she woke and cried. I watched my sister rock her. I watched Dalnis duck away, overcome by even more emotion than I felt.” He shuddered an exhale. “I’d been so proud, Nynn. I’d fought for a decade so that they could hold a child.”

“And her name?”

“Shoshan. Shoshan of Garnis.” He rocked up to stand. Nynn still knelt on the bed, bare from the waist up. The solace she offered was so compelling. “Was she even real? And if she was . . . If I fought so that Dr. Aster could help Yeta conceive . . . Then why were you able to give birth to Jack? A natural-born Dragon King. What have I been fighting for?”