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“This will be your last bar of merit,” Cassius tells me. “That makes you Primus, brother.” He pats my shoulder, and I see only a twinge of jealousy in his eyes. “Couldn’t be a better pick.”

“Lord on high, I never thought I would see this side of our handsome friend,” Roque says. “Humility! Cassius, is that truly you?”

Cassius shrugs. “This game is but a year of our lives, maybe less. After that, we have our apprenticeships or academies. After that, we have our lives. I’m only glad that we three were in the same House—just rewards will be there eventually for all of us.”

I squeeze

his shoulder. “Agreed.”

He’s still looking down, unable to meet our eyes till he finds his voice again.

“I … may have lost a brother here. That pain won’t fade. But I feel like I’ve gained two more.” He looks up fiercely. “And I mean that, lads. I gorywell mean that. We’ll have to do ourselves proud here. Beat some more Houses, win the whole damn thing; but my father will need officers for the ships in his armada … if you are interested, that is. The House Bellona always needs Praetors to make us stronger.”

He says that last part timidly, as though we’d have something better to do.

I grip his shoulder once more and nod even as Roque says something smartass about being a politician because he’d rather send people to their deaths than go to his own. The Sons of Ares would drool if I became a Praetor to House Bellona.

“And don’t worry, Roque, I’ll mention your poetry to Father,” Cassius laughs. “He’s always wanted a warrior bard.”

“Of course,” Roque embellishes. “Be sure to let dear Imperator Bellona know that I am a master with metaphor and a rogue with assonance.”

“Roque a rogue … oh God,” I laugh as Sevro rides up with Quinn and a girl on a type of horse I have not seen before. The girl wears a bag over her head. Quinn announces her as an emissary from House Pluto.

Her name is Lilath and they found her waiting near the edge of the woods. She wishes to speak with Cassius.

Lilath was once a moonfaced girl with cheeks that did smile but now don’t. They are drawn and newly burned, pocked and cruel. She’s seen hunger, and there’s a coldness to her that I don’t recognize. I’m frightened. I feel like Mickey when he looked at me. I was a cold, quiet thing he didn’t understand. So is she. It’s like looking at a fish from an underground river.

Lilath’s words come slow and linger in the air.

“I come from the Jackal.”

“Call him by his real name, if you will,” I suggest.

“I did not come to speak with you,” she says without a hint of emotion. “I came for Cassius.”

Her horse is small and lean. Its hooves nicked. Extra clothing makes her saddle fat. I see no weapons other than a crossbow. They are a mountain House—more clothing for colder climates, smaller horses for harder rides. Unless it is deception. I make her show me her ring. It is a mourning tree—the cypress of Pluto. Its roots leak into the ground. Two of her fingers are gone. Burns seal the stumps, so they have ion weapons. Her hair clatters when she moves. I don’t know why.

She looks me over quietly, as though judging me against her master.

Apparently I am lacking.

“Cassius au Bellona, my master desires the Reaper.” She goes on before either of us can say a word. We’re too surprised. “Alive. Dead. We don’t care. In return for him, you will receive fifty of these for your … army.”

She tosses him two ionBlades.

“You can tell your master he should come face me himself,” I say.

“I make no words with dead boys,” Lilath says to the air. “My master has put the mark on the Reaper. Before winter comes, he will be dead. By one hand or another.”

“You can go slag yourself,” Cassius replies.

She tosses Cassius a small pouch. “To help you make your decision.”

She does not speak again. Quinn raises her eyebrows and shrugs her confusion as she leads Lilath away.

I look at the small pouch Cassius holds in his hands. Paranoia overwhelms me. What is inside?

“Open it,” I say.