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Nicostratus frowns and then looks up, raising a bundle of more plum attire. “Pop these on and we’ll go?”

I change hurriedly, throw on my cloak, and come back out swinging the mask around my finger. “Will this do?”

“You might want to leave the cloak.”

“That’s just until we get there. It’s breezy today.”

Nicostratus is all light laughter and chivalry as he whisks me away from the bewildered stares of Mikros and Makarios. The drakopagon arena is teeming with spectators. In the middle of the stands overlooking the white-fenced, lush green space is the royal box, curtained with almost transparent silk screens; behind the screens is the shadowy, coughing figure of the king.

He sure goes all the way with his make-believe.Likely behind those screens, there is the same scarred aklo he made slink past his bedroom window.

“Honestly,” I murmur to Nicostratus, “the ‘king’ can’t see much through those screens. Why does he bother?”

He fastens his mask at the back of his head and helps me with mine. “He doesn’t care to watch the game, supposedly. But,” in a lower voice, “more people come if he’s here and they each pay a hefty price for a seat. Money my unclegenerouslyallows Constantinos to use as he pleases.”

“As he pleases?”

“Last year he donated to the Pavilion Libr—”

A figure on horseback draws to a stop at the fence nearby and suddenly has all my attention. Half his face is masked, enough to make his appearance indistinct, and his hair is knotted with a simple black ribbon. He’s flanked by two men on black horses. The black knight. He’s speaking to Veronica, who’s standing at the arena fence dressed in plum riding gear and jiggling a basket. “Dare to match my bet?”

I almost choke when he replies. He’s even had a mage deepen his voice. “We’ll match it.”

“And raise,” says a similarly masked rider to the black knight’s right.

“Who’s he?” I ask Nicostratus.

“That’ll be one of our uncle’s aklos.”

The aklo pours a pouch full of money into Veronica’s basket, and then urges their third player, a grim-looking giant, to do the same.

Overconfident.

Veronica looks nervously into the basket but lifts her head with a smile. “Winner takes all.” She turns her head, spots us, and comes striding over, basket extended.

Nicostratus laughs and empties his purse.

My gaze lifts from the basket to our opponents. The black knight sits silently, watching me. His eyes have a dare in them when they meet mine, and I straighten. He’s too much! So sure he’ll win; so sure he has everyone fooled.

Well, no matter how many acts he has, they can’tallbe perfect.

The aklo leans in and whispers audibly into the black knight’s ear. “Hesitating.” He chuckles and my eyes sharpen on him. How brazen.

The black knight responds with a curled lip and a secret whisper. That is... that is... His wife is right here!

And he calls me shameless.

“Have you no money?” Veronica says, suddenly realising my awkward position. “I can get some on your behalf.”

Nicostratus hums and his hand slides over my shoulder. “The game is about to start. Wager with this.” With a tug, my clasp comes off in his hand and he drops it into the basket.

My hand flies to my shoulder and catches on falling fabric.

Nicostratus gently pulls the cloak free. “You’ll warm up quickly.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it back for you.”

I glance at the shiny clasp in the basket, then at the black knight, whose gaze is tight on the pool.

Aklo touches his arm and Quin gathers his reins. He raises his chin. “When we win, you can have my share.”