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The silver rings glowed, their magic buzzing through the Katurium, the sound mixing with the howls of Ka Kormac and traveling up to where I sat.

The fight began, and immediately, every single soturion in Rhyan’s circle turned on him. I leaned forward in my seat, my stomach twisting. A moment passed where no one seemed to move. There was just a huddle of soturi surrounding Rhyan. Then one soturion from Ka Elys flew backward. Their back slammed into the circle, which buzzed excitedly as the soturion screamed and slid to the ground, unconscious.

That left four soturi for Rhyan to defeat. I sucked in a breath. Any other night, I wouldn’t have been worried, but he’d looked so weak, so tired, so unlike himself.

Another soturion fell, this one from Ka Daquataine. Now it was Rhyan against the three Kormac wolves. They spread out in the circle, forming a triangle around Rhyan in the center. His body was tensed and poised to fight. A moment passed, the soturi all sizing each other up.

Was it a coincidence that the full force of Ka Kormac was here rather than on duty? Or that Viktor had decided to harass me again this morning?

My heart hammered, and I noticed Galen watching me closely. I tensed my jaw, sealing my mask across my face—the neutral, beautiful, poised face of the Heir to the Arkasva. I forced a look of calm, of mere interest in the habibellum.

“Lyr, are you all right?” Galen asked.

Only then did I become aware of Tani sitting a row away, openly watching me. Another dozen soturi from Ka Elys sat around her, and each one turned my way until goosebumps ran across my arms.

You must control what they see.

“Of course,” I said, clearing my throat. “I was just trying to figure out where Haleika was sitting.”

Galen leaned closer. “I spotted her.” He pointed halfway down our row.

Haleika’s face was contorted into deep concentration and focus. I followed her gaze to Leander, who was battling a soturion from Ka Maras in Lethea. Leander charged, knocking the Lethean soturion onto their back.

“I can’t believe she sat down without us,” I said, trying to keep my voice lighthearted. Haleika was transfixed, and even from this distance, it was obvious who had her attention. “I’m going to get her after this. I thought friends saved seats for each other.”

Galen chuckled, but his eyes remained fixed on Haleika, and he frowned as he watched her watch Leander.

“Galen, what’s that maneuver called?” I pointed to a random brawl in the arena’s center. Two soturi from Ka Daquataine with blonde braids were taking turns kicking and ducking.

Galen turned back to the field, humoring me with an explanation and instructions for executing the move as I pretended to listen intently. If he suspected Haleika and Leander…if anything happened to them…Rhyan and I were next, guilty or not.

Slowly, the fight took Galen’s focus again. I found his apprentice on the edge of the arena and noted how Galen observed him. He seemed engrossed in the fight, but it was obvious he was looking at it from a technical perspective. When his apprentice was hit, he showed no emotional reaction, unlike me and Haleika.

I drew my gaze back to Rhyan. He stumbled. It was a slight movement, but I caught it. The biggest of the three soturi remaining advanced on him. Rhyan ducked, rolling aside, his boot thrusting into a powerful kick that knocked the soturion against the buzzing ring. He went down, immediately unconscious.

Rhyan sprang to life with a sudden burst of energy. He was moving impossibly fast, his movements precise, deadly, each strike meant to knock the opponent unconscious. And within seconds, he’d achieved that—save for one. Brockton.

By this point, every wolf from Korteria had noticed the contest between their darling Brockton and Rhyan, the forsworn from the north. The wolves yelled and clashed their swords and daggers, mimicking the drums of war.

Galen tensed beside me, and I felt Tani’s eyes on me again as I strained to hear their jeers through their metallic cacophony.

“Fuck forsworn! Fuck forsworn! Fuck forsworn!” they screamed. A war cry.

Some of the apprentices across the field paused mid-battle, staring up at the chanting legion of Ka Kormac.

Even at a distance, I knew Rhyan could hear them and was being affected. I couldn’t make out the features of his face, but I could see the lift of his shoulders, the tension in his body as he turned, the muscles flexing beneath his armor, his hands balled into fists.

Rhyan fired himself across the ring at Brockton. The Kormac soturion absorbed the hit, and their arms locked around each other. Rhyan pressed forward, pushing Brockton back against the ring.

“Fuck forsworn! Fuck forsworn!”

Rhyan had the upper hand. Time was almost up for the silver rings to dissolve, for each five to be freed. He could take Brockton down and then hopefully vanish into the fight, evade everyone else with his speed.

The mood of the arena shifted. Something dark tainted the habibellum, as if the aura of every soturion in Ka Kormac had joined together and was spreading like a fog across the Katurium, dark, heavy, and full of spite.

“Mother-killer! Mother-killer!”

“Northern bastard!”