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With a mighty heave, Kronk stood upright, legs braced, Morpheus’s boot trapped in his grip. Then, with a final burst of strength, he shoved. Morpheus wobbled, flailing his arms.

Rearing back, Kronk slammed his powerful fist into the giant’s fractured foot, and the splinters that had stopped at the giant’s hip shot up his torso.

Great. Here we go again.

The stone giant was coming apart. Right on top of us.

Once more, I scooped Runa into my arms, barking at her brothers, “Out of the way!”

Chunks of broken granite rained down on our heads. Laying on the speed, I sprinted out of the path of the falling rubble. Near the edge of the pit, I skidded to a stop and set the sorceress on her feet, glancing over my shoulder at yet another cloud of dust.

As the cloud settled, an image materialized in the middle of the arena. Hands on his hips, glaring at the pile of rocks before him, was Kronk.

Seeming satisfied with his win, he spat on the debris, then dusted his hands.

The spectators went wild, tossing cups of ale, flowers, and lacy unmentionables into the pit.

Kronk gazed back at them with a bemused expression on his chiseled face. He fluttered a three-finger wave at his adoring fans.

Horns trumpeted, and my muscles tensed. Would it kill the king to give us a moment to breathe?

All around the arena, the stone giants froze, then broke into sparkling gold fragments. The king’s power dissipated.

Again, bodies littered the floor of the pit. Some little more than greasy smudges.

Idris approached his podium, clapping in an exaggerated fashion. “Well done. Well done. I’m happy to tell you that after this last challenge, only twenty-three competitors remain. Sadly, only twelve may compete in the final trial.”

Beside me, Runa shivered, her expression bleak. “Milani told me we’d started with one-hundred and seven.”

“So far, our contestants faced both Carcerem’s criminals and her heroes. Now, it only seems fair that they face Carcerem’s people. After all, it is you, distinguished citizens, who are the backbone of our mighty kingdom. Therefore, it is you who will judge the contestants most worthy of competing in the final round tomorrow.”

“What the hell does he mean?” Drazen glanced at Runa.

The sorceress bit her lip. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound—”

Golden bands clasped our arms and chests. The grip was tight enough to cut off our oxygen. My head pounded as my ribs creaked in Idris’s magical grip. Around the arena, every competitor squirmed, trapped by the king’s golden magic.

Idris held out his cupped hand like he squeeze the life from our bodies. As his arm lifted, we lifted as well. Beneath my feet, the sand disappeared. My incapacitated frame floated above the ground, rising high above the pit.

Runa’s quiet whimper whipped my head in her direction. She and her brothers dangled above the sand. Violet eyes wide with terror, she peered at the circle of competitors.

“It is time to vote, good citizens. Today, each of you will be judge, jury, and executioner.” Golden light illuminated a muscular female with blood spatters on her furious face. “Gaze upon this fierce competitor and tell me. Does she live to see the final challenge? After all you have seen, is she worthy of fighting for the realm’s forgiveness? Or does she die, right here, right now, a deserving recipient of Carcerem’s justice?”

At this, the crowd went wild. Booing and cheers filled the stadium. Many held their thumbs up while most stabbed theirs down, chanting for the woman’s death. Above us, a magical counter shimmered into view, tallying the votes.

It was barbaric. After all that we’d been through, the kingwould let the citizens decide our fate? Nothing about Idris led me to believe he was afairruler who cared about the opinions of others. To him, this was merely part of the game he played. A roll of the dice to see who would make it to the next round. I had little doubt he’d rigged the outcome and placed a hefty sum on the winner of this particular challenge. Hell, I would.

“Oh, too bad,” Idris said, tone laden with false sympathy. “Looks like this champion has reached the end of her journey.”

In grand fashion, Idris spread his arms wide, then slammed his palms together. Golden light exploded, the fiery sparks nipping at my flesh. The woman uttered an agonized roar, and the band surrounding her detonated. Blood sprayed. The contestants nearest to her were blasted with a mixture of gore and rendered flesh.

Runa made gagging noises. I swallowed the bile burning my throat. It was a brutal way to go, even by my standards.

“Next!” Idris declared cheerfully, enjoying his demonstration of sadistic power.

I’d known and supported some bloodthirsty kings in my time. Idris threatened to outshine all of them. I didn’t believe a being was born good or evil. Most were shaped by their circumstances and driven by their needs. This false king could be the exception.

The next five contestants raced by. Two of them, the crowd embraced. Thorne Blackwing was among the few who passed. Three met a gruesome end.