Understanding shone behind her silvery-blue eyes. Leto didn’t like her sharp tongue or her obstinacy, but his initial enthusiasm returned.

He’d already assessed her body, but this was the first time her features had a more powerful hold on his attention. Wide, wide eyes caught his attention first. Equally wide cheekbones, exotic and high, came next. She had a full lower lip that dragged down at the corners in a stubborn pout. Even her nape was worth notice—slender, with strong tendons that accentuated her upright posture. Across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose was a smattering of freckles. When he found himself tracing patterns with his gaze, he looked away.

“We have three weeks before the first combat match,” he said. “And a lot of ground to cover.”

“What does a match entail?”

“Dragon Kings from here in the Asters’ compound compete in nonlethal contests. We perform in a genuine Cage, with seating in the round for the Asters’ guests. Betting is rampant. Winners are rewarded, and take one step closer to the annual Grievance.”

“A Grievance? That’s ancient—from when the Five Clans needed to clear bad blood.”

“Now it’s where the best warriors of the cartels fight for the ultimate prize.”

“Conception.”

Leto nodded. “And with the ultimate risk. At a Grievance we can be beheaded by a Dragon-forged blade, as punishment for losing.”

She blew breath out through her nose. “They’ve co-opted our traditions and made them into something disgusting. What’s the point of earning conception if it comes at the cost of slain Dragon Kings?”

Leto led his charge toward the Cage and opened the gate. “The perpetuation of our own lines. Protecting the futures of our families.”

She shrugged from under his touch. “That’s a selfish way of looking at our people’s march toward extinction.”

“Not my problem.”

He ignored her obvious disgust and locked them in together. The hum of the mesh steel’s reversal surged to life. His gift returned to him, following by white noise. It was a signal deep in his brain to prepare. The collar felt lighter. He stretched his neck from one side to the other. Muscles and joints loose. Ready for battle.

“So what can you do?” she asked, arms crossed.

“I’m Clan Garnis. What do you think?”

“Speed. Reflexes.”

In a blink, he shot behind Nynn. His crooked elbow held her in a chokehold. She gagged when he pressed just above her collar. “A great deal of speed, and excellent reflexes.”

His reflexes were so astonishing that, on occasion, he felt as if he could see his opponents’ moves before their minds twitched with the thought. To his knowledge, there were no other Cage warriors of Clan Garnis. He had no one to ask. Besides, why would he reveal something so advantageous to anyone he might one day face?

He shoved her away. Nynn landed on hands and knees on the padded floor. A coughing fit arched her back.

“Fight me,” he said. “Or I get nasty.”

She held up her middle finger.

Another blink of speed. Another surge of power. He kicked her in the gut.

She clutched her stomach and clasped one hand over her mouth, as if she was ready to be sick. The heavy supper would fuel her body. Eventually. Right now it was a hindrance. He’d be impressed if she managed to keep it down.

“This will only get worse if you resist.”

With blond hair in disarray around her heart-shaped face, Nynn glared at him. Fiercely. Her unearthly blue eyes took on the intensity of a predator. Leto was surprised by the snap of primal awareness. Manhandling her, watching her wash, hearing her beg—nothing had jolted him so strongly. Instead, it was her outright defiance.

A killer instinct, with titanium behind it. A true warrior.

He had hoped for competence. Maybe even skill. The wrath in her expression was a bonus that affected him physically. He would teach her, watch her win, and then he would have her for his prize.

Shaking his head, he reminded himself that her training was his true goal.

Again, a blink. He moved with speed that could barely be seen, or so he was told. He landed a punch against her right kidney.

“You freak! Give me a chance, for the Dragon’s sake.”

“You speak of the Dragon but you lived as a human,” he said, not even winded. “It’s blasphemy.”

“I can’t help how I was raised.”

“Bullshit, as you say.” Leto leaned against the mesh steel. “You were cast out, I assume. I can’t imagine he was worth it.”

She stood. Slowly at first. Knees unsteady. She lifted her chin. That killer instinct had returned. Leto breathed in and relished the sight.

“He was worth everything I’ve endured, everything I ever will. And you’ve never felt its like.”

Anger lifted in Leto’s chest. Almost pain. Almost shame. Because she was right.

Blink. Kick to the lower back. Scream.

This time she didn’t fall. She whirled on the balls of her feet. The blaze of her silvery eyes caught with his. An uncanny glow stopped him cold.

Fireworks.

He tried to shake away the illusion, but it remained. Intensified. Thousands of fireworks bubbled inside a concentrated circle between Nynn’s hands. Sparks. Pinging blasts of flame were trapped in a sphere of energy that built and built—a balloon ready to burst. Her face contorted. Sweat trailed down her cheeks. She shrieked with the fury of a Pendray in the throes of a full berserker rage.

The bubble burst. Leto scrambled out of its path, but even he wasn’t fast enough.

Pure concussive force threw him against the mesh steel. He hit face-first and grunted. He couldn’t hear. Had he landed on the brushed concrete of the genuine Cage, he would’ve busted both kneecaps. With any more force, she would’ve broken every bone in his back.

He used the mesh steel to climb to his feet, ready to defend himself. But Nynn was on her hands and knees, shaking.

He hadn’t expected her to leave her first Cage match with all four limbs intact. Part of him hadn’t believed the pictures of Dr. Aster’s damaged lab. A hoax? An incentive to challenge him? Yet Nynn possessed the most remarkable gift he’d ever witnessed. She was a volcano bursting open and flinging burning, breakneck debris.

Nynn rasped, “What was that?” Then she sagged onto the Cage floor.

He staggered forward. His extraordinary senses returned.

From a corner of the arena room came slow, deliberate clapping. A shuffle and the thump of a cane followed. Leto’s gaze sliced through the darkness. Entirely bald and pushing eighty years, Old Man Aster emerged from the shadows. His maniacal grin carved wrinkles into the pantomime of a clown’s smile. He was only missing the face paint. His sallow complexion—after having spent most of the last five decades belowground—was eerie enough.

No matter his value to the Asters, Leto was always disturbed by that warped, skeletal appearance.

“I told you.” His voice was cultured, but scratched by his advanced age. “She’s amazing. She’ll rival you one day, my champion.”

Leto straightened to his full height. Upon the raised floor of the Cage, he had the higher vantage. That didn’t matter when staring into his master’s eyes. His pride twitched. “Is that what you want, sir? For her to best me?”

“No, Leto. You are going to do what you do best: make our family very wealthy and make me very proud.” He nodded toward Nynn’s fallen body. “To do so, you will fight with Malnefoley’s cousin . . . as your partner.”

Partner. With her.”

“Yes, Leto.” The Old Man stroked a mustache as wan as his skin and as thin as his hair. Had he not possessed piercing green eyes, he would’ve appeared an albino. “The crowd grows weary of your successes. Betting has been poor—all in your favor. It’s become a losing prospect for the bookies. Some have refused to take wagers on you. The other cartels refuse to pit their best against you in a future Grievance, which would exclude you from the games.” He grinned again with that warped joker’s smile. “Apparently there exists the possibility of too much of a good thing.”