“Only a little,” I said. “Useless things. It’s never done anything for me.” My gaze slid to Raihn. “And what about you?”

“Oh, same,” he said, taking another sip of blood. “Useless things.”

As if we hadn’t all seen him use it to kill a man mere days ago.

Mische giggled, clearly finding Raihn more amusing than I did.

My eyes narrowed. “Useless things like Asteris?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Exactly like that.”

BANG BANG.

I jumped. My gaze snapped to the front door, which shook with the force of each knock.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.

Raihn barely glanced at it. “Now that sounds like something we shouldn’t answer.”

“Raihn Ashraj, OPEN. THIS. FUCKING. DOOR.”

The deep female voice boomed from beyond the door, so loud it might as well have been coming from inside the apartment. If the banging kept up, surely it would be in a matter of minutes.

Mische glanced to Raihn. He narrowed his eyes at her. They had an unspoken conversation.

He groaned. “Why is it always me? Why is it never your name they’re screaming through the sun-cursed door?”

She smiled sweetly. “Because I’m nice and pretty.”

“I’m nice and pretty,” he grumbled. He rose, grabbed his sword from where it lay haphazardly on the coffee table, and unsheathed it in one smooth movement. Then he stalked to the door and threw it open, giving whoever was on the other side no time to react before the sword was in their face.

“Hello, Angelika.”

And immediately, that sword was met with the cold metal edge of an axe. Bearing it was the woman who led the House of Blood contestants… and she was furious.

Up close, she might’ve been the most muscular woman I’d ever seen, nearly as tall as Raihn and broad enough to fill the doorway. The defined cut of her arms, exposed in her sleeveless armor, flexed as she deflected the full force of Raihn’s blow—and if the strain of his was any indication, he wasn’t holding back, either.

“Where is he?” Angelika snarled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not like that Rishan piece of shit you killed during the feast. I’m not falling for your games. Where is he?”

I hovered near the door, my own weapons out, but I wasn’t about to jump into that unless I had to. Mische seemed shockingly blasé, watching with obvious interest but little concern.

Apparently, Angelika didn’t especially want or need an answer from Raihn, because instead of waiting for one, she struck. And Raihn was ready for it. He deflected her blow and used the force of it to push both of them out into the hallway, away from the entrance to the apartment.

When they fought, it was like watching two forces of nature collide. Angelika was vicious, every movement woven with sheer power. The light of the hall illuminated the scars up and down her arms—she was a blood magic wielder.

If she used such magic against Raihn, though, it didn’t seem to affect him—save, perhaps, for a minuscule lurch when her weapon met his. He was a breathtakingly skilled warrior. Damn near an artist. In the trial, I’d been too distracted to notice just how good he was. He moved with incredible grace for such a large person. Each strike or dodge or step blended into each other like steps to a dance. The puffs of darkness around his sword intensified with every swing, leaving streaks of night behind every blow and wrapping the two of them in ribbons of shadow.

Yet Angelika was just as good, just as strong, just as fast. They were evenly matched, both trembling under the force of each other’s power. By the nature of my position in life, I’d gotten very good at sizing up predators—at recognizing killers. And right now, I was watching two ruthlessly efficient ones toy with each other.

With one forceful thrust against her axe, Raihn pushed her away. “It’s his own damned fault. And you know it, too.”

“It was the human,” she shot back. “I know it was.”

“He was out of his mind. Went after her in the greenhouse, of all places.”

Angelika had been ready to strike again, but at this, she paused. Lowered her axe, just a fraction of an inch.

Raihn did not lower his. But he didn’t strike, either. “In daylight, Angelika.”

“The greenhouse,” she repeated.

“He was long gone,” Raihn said. “He got himself killed. Hell, you should be thanking us. We saved you from a very unpleasant task.”

“Watch yourself,” she hissed.

“What? Would you rather he lived long enough to get used by this place? Like those poor bastards we fought in the ring?”

Angelika flinched. Her fingers lifted—paused, briefly, at her throat. She didn’t speak for a long moment, and I tensed, waiting to see if she would move again.

“I’d rather kill her in the trials than kill her here,” she said, at last, voice low and thick with promise—and at this, her eyes fell to me, hard with hatred. Her nostrils flared. I became very conscious of the rapid pace of my heartbeat.

“And as for you.” That glare settled on Raihn. “You… you’re lucky it’s not your time yet. Remember right now exactly how lucky you are.”

Then she simply lowered her axe and stalked away.

We waited until she was long gone before any of us moved. Raihn was the first to speak.

“I probably should’ve killed her.”

“You say that like you would have won,” I said.

He let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I would have won.”

His rose-colored gaze slid to me, and I became aware all at once of how close he was standing—close enough that I could smell him, a scent that reminded me of saffron and heat beating down over the desert, and something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

Goosebumps rose at my skin, instincts rebelling against allowing someone this close. I took several casual steps back, and Raihn’s stare drifted back to where Angelika had disappeared down the stairs.

“Still. Her? She’s a problem. She’s the one to watch.”

“I feel sorry for her,” Mische said softly, and offered nothing more.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“That was a foolish decision. I taught you better than to serve yourself to your enemies that way.”

I hadn’t seen Vincent this appalled by my actions in nearly a decade.

I had no choice, I wanted to say, but I swallowed those words before they made it to my lips. I knew better. Vincent believed that you always had a choice, and if you found yourself in a position where you didn’t, you’d made a very poor one earlier that put you there. Either way, you had no one to blame but yourself.

“I need an ally for the Halfmoon, and he’s a good one,” I said instead.

“He is a Rishan.”

“So are a third of the contestants in there.”

“Think about why a Rishan would want to get close to you, Oraya. You.”

He paced. Vincent only paced when he was nervous, but even that was a smooth, deliberate movement. Three long steps, and a sharp turn, exactly the same length, exactly the same rhythm.

He was tense. I was tense. It was a bad combination, and I knew it from the moment I saw him. He had worked hard over the years to grind my emotional impulsivity out of me. But the stress of the competition, my injury, and the choice I’d been forced to make brought my nerves to the surface. Beneath all of it lay my grief over Ilana’s death; never acknowledged but still raw and bleeding, amplifying every negative emotion.

All of that meant I had to watch my voice and my words very carefully.

“I have,” I said. “He thinks that allying with me will mean advantages from you. As far as selfish motivations go, I can accept that one. Better that than him keeping me around for a quick meal if food gets scarce.”

Step, step, step, turn, as Vincent pivoted sharply to me. “And it will.”

I almost shivered at that thought. “At least when that happens, I have protection.”