Derek thought about it for a moment, glancing to the side. There was grief in his eyes. I’d seen it before. There was guilt. But there was also determination. “Let’s get through with this investigation into Nethissis’s death first. Once we know exactly what happened, we can all sit down and have a serious talk.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. But Tristan and Esme should handle Nethissis’s murder. You know they’ll stop at nothing until they get the truth, and they’ll raise less suspicions from the Aeternae than us sneaking around. You and I will pretend to focus on the protein and the Black Fever… These people are keeping things from us, and I don’t like it.”

Derek nodded slowly. “We all have to be careful. These are not Exiled Maras. Nor Perfects. They’re a different species altogether, with a different culture, and probably plenty of dirty aces up their sleeves. Let’s see where this takes us.”

“Multitasking, huh?” I chuckled, though I couldn’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

He smiled, and I felt a little better, if only for just a moment.

“The Aeternae don’t know this,” he went on, “but I’ve already got GASP on standby and ready to go in case anything gets out of control here.” He paused, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure this out. One day at a time.”

“Right…”

I kissed his cheek, my lips soft on his skin. I prayed to all the forces of the universe for us to return home together, with no more loss of life, and with the answer to the daywalking puzzle. It was bad enough that we had to bury Nethissis. I didn’t want us to lose anyone else.

Esme

We reached the Blood Arena just minutes before it was Trev’s turn to fight. My nerves were tight. If he didn’t survive this final, we’d lose a potential lead—a chance to get answers about the Darklings, the Rimian faction, and Nethissis’s death. Kalon had not left my side since this morning, and he’d constantly uplifted me along the way.

He wasn’t a man of many words, but everything he said had deeper meaning, making me think twice before I even considered putting him in the same pot as everyone else. If there was one thing Kalon had made perfectly clear to me, it was that he was fundamentally different from most Aeternae—even his mother.

Despite his apparent arrogance, Kalon was a fascinating and surprising creature to be around. Every day that went by somehow brought me closer to him. I had even contemplated lowering some of my defenses, wondering if it might coax Kalon into showing me other hidden sides of him. He seemed to enjoy the whole tit-for-tat dynamic where I was concerned, more than anything.

We found a couple of seats closer to the fighters’ boxes at the base of the arena. Thousands of people had come to the event, as it was quite rare for a non-Aeternae to make it this far into a tournament predominantly fought by Aeternae. Trev had already made his mark on society. I’d heard people mentioning him outside, as well, and in the streets. They were all wondering whether he had the chops to survive and win or not.

Of course, this also drove ridiculous amounts of gold into bets, as the odds against Trev were high—almost dismal. One of the bookies made his way toward us, collecting gold and silver coins and giving back uniquely numbered flyers in return to each of those who’d made a bet.

“Fifty to one on Trev Blayne!” he shouted. “Who else wants in?”

The bookies were dressed in mustard-yellow linen tunics with dark red belts, making them easy to spot anywhere in the arena. From what I could tell, most people were betting against Trev—even Rimians and Naloreans. The younger ones were brave enough to put their money on him, nonetheless.

Kalon took out a single gold coin as the bookie approached us. “What’s the pot, so far?”

“Fifty thousand gold pieces, milord,” the skinny, dark-haired Aeternae teenager replied. “Odds are still fifty to one. Would you like to bet?”

“Put this in for Trev Blayne,” Kalon said, dropping the coin in the basket. The bookie gave him a marker and bowed politely.

“May fortune smile upon you, Lord Visentis.”

The bookie moved along, collecting more bets on his way down to the fighters’ pits. I could see the main contenders from here—the illustrious Trev Blayne, who’d beaten many odds, and the mountain-sized Aeternae, whose shadow stretched all the way into the arena.

“Who’s that?” I asked Kalon.

“Fenyx Oak,” he replied. “Not a noble Aeternae, but part of the silver guard. I know he’s being groomed to join the gold guards, provided he survives today, that is.”

His half-smile was impossible to ignore, almost infecting me, as well. “You don’t think he’ll hack it?”

“He’s never fought Trev,” Kalon said. “Rimian or not, that boy can pack some death in his hits. As you’ve already noticed, I put my faith in him, along with a gold coin.”

“How big will the pot get?” I wondered aloud.

He nodded around the arena, showing me the dozen bookies still collecting coins from the public. “Most of these people are betting on Fenyx. If he wins, they’ll get a few pieces of gold and silver, at best. Those who put their coins, no matter how small, on the Rimian underdog… well, they stand to make a small fortune. With so many bookies taking bets, the pot will probably hit a hundred thousand gold coins before the fight starts.”

“I take it that’s a lot.”

“It’ll buy you a nice villa in the city center.” Kalon chuckled.

We were soon left without words as the arena began its preparations for the tournament finale. Stewards and pit staff cleared the sanded area, using long-handled pitchforks with short teeth to comb the dirt and make the surface as smooth as possible.

The referees were seated on their platform, behind the announcer, clad in expensive silks and boasting some of the biggest jewels I had ever seen. Unlike previous tournaments, the Lord and Lady Supreme were not in attendance, and neither were their closest officials—I couldn’t see Zoltan or Petra or Corbin anywhere. The recent events had definitely diminished their appetites for public spectacles of bloody violence. It made me wonder, too… where were they? What were they doing?

“There’s a lot on your mind,” Kalon said, noticing my silence and, most importantly, my frown. The sun mask kept my nose and mouth hidden, but he could tell a lot from my eyes alone. I looked at him, feeling my nerves soften just a bit.

“Can you blame me?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not at all. But what has already happened cannot be changed. The best you can do is keep moving forward. Seek retribution. Focus on justice.”

“Even if said justice takes me to people who are close to you?” I replied.

Kalon seemed to think about it for a moment. “This isn’t about me, Esme. If anyone dear to me has anything to do with what happened to Nethissis, rest assured, I will assist you in exacting your revenge. I did not sanction any of this, and therefore it’s my duty to act as an extended hand of justice.”

“Your speech is impressive. But I do wonder…”

“You wonder what?” he asked, leaning closer ever so slightly, and so slowly that I barely noticed until I felt his breath gently brush against the slim and delicate fabric of my sun mask.

“Do you mean it?” I asked. “I wouldn’t fault you if my investigation stirred some negative feelings.”

My voice faded slowly as Kalon looked deep into my eyes. There wasn’t much sun breaching the reddish haze, and he’d pulled a large umbrella above us for some shade, but a ray of light still found its way across his face. I marveled at how it danced on his pale skin, making it shimmer discreetly.

“Wherever the truth takes us, I’ll take it,” he replied after a long silence. I could feel him digging into my very soul, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. My heart pounded, nervous and restless, but I welcomed the sensation. He made me feel alive in ways I hadn’t thought were even possible.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice shot through the Blood Arena, finally breaking our moment. “Welcome to the grand finale of the forty-seventh mixed tournament!”

We turned to face the impending show as Fenyx Oak and Trev Blayne came out of the fighters’ pits and walked to the center of the arena. The crowd roared and clapped as they stood in the middle, facing one another. I heard several Rimians calling out Trev’s name, and I wondered whether they’d dared to bet on him. The odds were against him, but that could also mean a spectacular prize if he defeated Fenyx.

The contrast between fighters was stark. Trev was tall for his species, well-built but still wiry and agile, clad in dark blue armor with slim chainmail underneath and black leather straps keeping the metallic plates affixed to his calves, thighs, torso, and arms. His helmet was adorned with strange, long feathers that reached down to his waist, in shades of iridescent blue and gold. His weapon of choice was a single short sword—it looked sharp but also light, perfect for close combat, as it would allow him to easily move around his opponent.

Fenyx was not just big, he was also quite dashing, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore massive armor of silver, with diamonds embedded into his shoulder and chest plates. The leather straps were white, and he carried two scimitar-style blades with ivory handles and bejeweled hilts. He worried me. There was a high chance that he would be the one walking out of here alive today.

The announcer introduced them by name first. “In the dark blue armor, Trev Blayne is a beacon of hope for the Rimians in the mixed tournaments of our Blood Arena. Very few members of his species have ever made it this far without sustaining severe injuries. May the fates continue to support him!” he said, and the crowd cheered and booed. From what I could tell, Trev didn’t have that many fans here today, but those who’d come to support him were particularly loud and enthusiastic.

“Fenyx Oak has already made a name for himself among the silver guards of our city,” the announcer continued, smiling as he looked at the Aeternae. “His name has passed over many lips since his stunning victory in yesterday’s semifinal. We wish him strength and agility, for he may very well take the ultimate trophy today!”

“That’s a little unfair,” I said. “He’s basically assuming that Fenyx will win.”

Kalon smirked. “Most of them are assuming that Fenyx will win. Hence the spectacular odds.”

“Yet you bet on Trev,” I reminded him.