I moved like a lunar wind, jumping along the dark, cobbled alleys of the Tower. No bells rang, no alarms as I reached the final, outer wall. Thank fuck for that, because the gates were locked, and shadow-leaping wouldn’t get me through them.

I scaled the rough stone wall, finding footholds and handholds in the jagged stones until I reached the top. Then, I hooked a leg over the top of the wall. From my perch, I stared out into the darkness beyond the tower.

I swallowed hard. A sense of loss pierced me for a moment.

I’d gone soft, that was all. And the longer I stayed in luxury, the easier I’d be to kill.

I stared across the paved expanse before me, focusing on the farthest dark point I could see. Shadow magic whispered up my spine and slid over my skin like a layer of frost. My cold breath iced the air. I jumped, my teeth chattering. I felt exhilarated and untethered at the same time.

From Tower Hill, I jumped through the shadows, moving further north. I rushed along what had once been the eastern edge of London’s Roman wall, flying through the shadows. A gnawing pit had opened up in my chest, worsening the further I got from the Institute, but I kept moving. I always had to keep moving. Rest meant death. Hesitation meant death.

When I reached Leadenhall, I took a left. In the middle of the night, in this ancient part of the city, no one lingered on the streets. And even if I happened to pass some drunk banker lost in the city, he’d feel nothing more than the whoosh of cold air as I slipped past him.

I wasn’t a Shadow Fae, but I could kill in the shadows, now, too.

At last, I reached Guildhall. Thousands of years ago, the Romans had ruled the city. They’d built a wall, temples, an amphitheater. And they’d left their ruins deep underground.

Baleros had taken their foundations and built from them, creating his own empire. Once, when I hadn’t performed like he’d wanted me to in the ring, he’d locked me up for a week with only water. When I got out, crazed with starvation, I’d called him evil. I’d wanted to see if he had any sense of shame. He’d told me that good and evil didn’t mean anything anymore. He said that wasn’t the way the world worked. He’d said empire-builders created their own realities, and that for men like him, it had always been that way.

In the shadows near Guildhall, I pulled the cover off a manhole, and I jumped down. I splashed in the water, landing hard. The remains of the ancient Walbrook River reached about mid-calf. Long ago—even before the Romans had come—the noble Mor made sacrifices here. Now, the Shadow Fae had found another way to appease the Old Gods: with the blood of the demons they assassinated.

Shivering—why the hells was I so cold?—I rammed my hand into my backpack and pulled out my headlamp. Rats scurried along the sides of the river. They didn’t bother me. I’d spent enough time living with rats.

A circular, white glare from my headlamp bounced over the water and wet walls as I moved deeper through the river. The water froze my legs. It felt like gods-damned winter down here.

At last, I reached a fork where a narrow tunnel curved right. This would take me where I needed to go.

As I walked, shivers overtook me. I tried not to think about Ruadan, but a mixture of guilt and fear clouded my thoughts. Honestly, you’d think I could pick one or the other. Either he was a ruthless killer who would probably execute me or he genuinely liked me, and … oh, who was I kidding? Even if he liked me, any rational person would slaughter someone who’d betrayed them that way. It was just the way of the world.

The water grew shallower as I walked, the splashing quieter, until the river petered out into a dull trickle. A few minutes later, I reached the end of the tunnel. A wooden door—painted green—was inset into the brick here. A padlock sealed it shut.

I reached into my bag, pulling out two bobby pins. I bent one of them into a pick, and the other into a lever. I slid them both into the keyhole, jiggling them around until I unlocked it.

Before I pushed through the door, I flicked off my headlamp. I tucked the lumen crystal inside my shirt, disguising it within my cleavage. No need to broadcast my shadow-leaping ability.

Always let your enemy underestimate you.

Holding my breath, I carefully inched the door open, relieved when darkness greeted me.

My relief was short-lived as the smell of the old gladiator ring hit me. The stones, the sand. The only thing missing was the metallic stench of blood, or the overpowering smell of sweat. It made me want to vomit.

I moved silently over the sand, sniffing the air. I didn’t need my headlamp to find my way into the center of the ring.

The arena was so dark, so quiet, that for a moment, I wondered if I’d got it wrong. Maybe Baleros wasn’t here at all. Maybe he’d never remain somewhere so obvious.

I sniffed. When I picked out his rosewater scent, my heart skipped a beat. He was here.

I pulled my iron knife from its sheath. Shadows were all around me, but I didn’t yet know where to jump.

I sniffed the air again. Roses.

He was so close. I could almost hear him—

Iron clamped around my throat, and the back of my head slammed hard into a wooden stake behind me. Metal creaked, and my lungs burned. I was choking, and I couldn’t even scream.

My vision swam with dots.

I already knew what this was—Baleros’s garrote. I couldn’t speak as he tightened it. This was how the Romans had killed their worst enemies—a humiliating death, not even fighting. Baleros had used it to keep us all in line.

A revelation hit me like a train. He’d been waiting for me.

Of course he had. He was Baleros, and he lived in my head.

He turned the garrote again, and the world slipped away from me.

I’d lost consciousness, but when I regained it, I was staring up into the face of my old master. He’d flicked on my headlamp, and it shone brightly over his features. His eyes crinkled at the corners—genuine delight.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but my mouth felt like sandpaper, and the iron garrote seared my neck. Poison. The iron sapped my strength, and I wanted nothing more than to get it away from me.

I snarled at Baleros, and the fucker laughed.

As my vision slowly cleared, I took in the shapes around us. It took me a moment to realize we weren’t alone. But it wasn’t Ciara I found in the arena with us. It was an entire crowd of spectators, filling the stone seats. Excited murmurs rippled off the stone. What the fuck…?

Even more disturbing, a circle of archers lined the edge of the arena, each with a flaming arrow pointed right at me. A tendril of panic coiled through my chest.

I’d certainly gotten myself into a pickle.

“Arianna, my dear,” said Baleros. “I was hoping you’d arrive.”

I gritted my teeth. “How did you know I’d come for you?”

“I didn’t, precisely. But I know how you think, and I prepared for all eventualities—one of them being your arrival in the arena. I thought, sometimes that girl does my bidding at first, then the naughty rebellious streak emerges, and she thinks she can take me on. This was merely one of the possible outcomes, but I was prepared.” An easy smile lit up his face. “Please forgive me for knocking you unconscious. I needed a bit of time to prepare. But I think you’ll agree that the results are spectacular. One final fight for the Amazon Terror.” He loosed a long sigh. “I thought you would have learned by now. You can never win.”

My mind was foggy from dehydration and the iron burning me. I couldn’t make sense of this. What the fuck was his endgame?

“I don’t understand.” I hated not understanding. Hated that he was always one step ahead. “Why did you send me after the key in the first place? Why not just drag me back into the ring if you wanted me to fight?”

He shrugged. “Because I wanted you to fight someone very hard to capture. You never lose. Now, you will.”

Baleros stepped aside, and my world tilted. There, on the other side of the ring, stood Ruadan. The arena lights gilded his body, and he gripped a sword. His eyes had darkened to pure black, and his teeth were gritted with sheer, murderous rage.

I was supposed to fight him. “You wanted the Wraith to track me here so we could fight.”

“No one can capture him. Not even me. I had to lure him to me. You were the bait.”

“And you don’t want the key? You just want a fight between us?” I didn’t believe him. He was simply making the best of the situation, getting everything he could out of it. He wanted a fight and the key.

“I don’t need the key,” he said. “And now that I know what it is, that it’s a part of him… It’s too complicated. Look, I simply thought, why not make money one last time? Do you know how much people paid to see the Wraith take on the Amazon Terror?”

He was lying. I knew he wanted nothing more than to unleash anarchy once more. He was desperate for the key. Before Ruadan got the chance to jump away, before even the Wraith saw what was coming, Baleros would shoot his limbs full of iron arrows. Baleros still didn’t know what the key looked like, but he’d try to torture the answer out of Ruadan. Just before he killed him.

My hands were at the iron garrote around my neck. “What if we simply don’t fight each other?”

He opened his hands. “You don’t have a choice, my little monster. Ruadan wants you dead. He can shadow-jump. You can’t. You may not last long, unfortunately, but the crowd wants blood, and they’ll have it.” He frowned at me. “I like the headlamp on you. I think I’ll leave it.”

I could still feel the lumen crystal tucked in my cleavage, and a spark of hope lit in my chest. Inwardly, I smiled. Baleros had no idea that I had it on me.

I fought hard to keep the fear etched across my features. If he didn’t know about my skills, he hadn’t planned for them. That gave me an advantage.

“There is one way you can win.” He scratched his cheek. “If you unleash that dark power within you. You know, the one that terrifies you. The one you can’t control. I’ve seen you do things that no fae should be able to do.”

My mind flashed with an image from my past, one I wanted to keep buried. Twelve dead fae lying at my feet, their bodies rotting before my eyes.

I clenched my jaw tighter. “You’d better hope I don’t unleash that, Baleros. Because you’ll die along with the rest of them.”

He stroked the back of his fingertips along my cheeks, and I shuddered at his touch. There was a time when I would have welcomed it—any affection from him.

“My little monster, Arianna. A pretty, scarred little abomination.” A sly smile. Charming, almost. “Arianna. But that’s not your real name, is it?”

His words slid through my bones. If he told anyone….

I pushed the fear to the back of my mind. I had one more question for him. “How did you know I’d bring Ruadan here? How did you know I wouldn’t kill him?”

A dark smile curled his lips. “Because you’re pathetic, Arianna. When you’re not busy murdering people, you’re desperate for love. And all it would take was one tiny gesture of kindness to destroy your ability to think rationally. One little butterscotch sweet.” He cocked his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What was it, Arianna? Some food? One of the lollipops you like so much?” He grinned at this like it was the funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard.

It was a blanket.

A wild rage roiled in my blood, so intense I thought I might explode and bring the world down with me, and the possibility was more real than I wanted to admit. “Someday, I will kill you. Slowly. And while you’re dying, I will make you regret the day you pulled me off the streets of London. I am the Amazon Terror, and I will be your death.” My voice was so cold, so full of wrath, that just for instant, he flinched, and fear flickered across his face. It only took him a moment to compose himself.

He wasn’t smiling anymore, and he stepped away from me. But the one little flash of fear had given me the insight I needed. Baleros had made himself into a god because he was afraid. He feared pain. And if he had enough power, he imagined he’d never have to feel anything that hurt.

If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back at you.

He backed away from me, and he signaled to someone to open the garrote around my neck.

Then, Baleros turned to face the crowd, lifting his arms above his head like a circus ringmaster. “You’ve all heard of the fearsome skill of the Amazon Terror. She may look like a beautiful lavender-haired fae with tremendous breasts—”

He always mentioned the breasts in his preamble. The crowds loved breasts.

“—but she has left the bodies of countless warriors at her feet. She now faces the first enemy she may be unable to defeat. A spell-slayer. The Wraith. He moves in the shadows, slaughters silently. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fight you’ve all been waiting for!”

Someone handed me a bottle of water, and I chugged it down fast. My throat felt like a desert, and apparently Baleros wanted this battle to last a little longer than four seconds.

I stared across the sandy arena at Ruadan while the familiar proceedings began—the ancient customs marking the start of combat. The licti—servants—carried a bundle of sticks with an ax. That was the fascia—it was supposed to represent Baleros’s power. My guess was it was there to compensate for a super disappointing manhood.

Then, the frankly irritating trumpeters blared away. Last, a servant held aloft a bust of Baleros that everyone was supposed to cheer for.

The entire time, my gaze was locked on Ruadan. Inky shadows slid through his eyes, and darkness breathed around him. He stood firmly in place with that eerie, animal stillness, bar a lock of pale blond hair that floated on a breeze. A predator about to attack. The sight of him sent ice racing through my veins. The ancient part of my brain was already screaming at me to run. I’d fought many enemies, but none as terrifying as him.

Unlike Baleros, Ruadan probably realized I’d stolen the lumen crystal, which meant he wouldn’t mess around. He could shadow-jump faster and more skillfully than I could.

I gripped my sword tighter, my mind whirling. We could stall, trying to find a way to get out of this together. If we teamed up, maybe we could both live.

Or, we could assume the other person was a monster and go for the kill right away. After all, he was the Wraith. And I’d just stabbed him in the chest. Ruthless monsters, both of us.

Sweat dampened my palms as my mind frantically spun in a million directions. To trust him or not to trust him….

One of the licti commanded us to raise our weapons and salute our master. I turned to Baleros—seated on the stony emperor’s throne in the center of the audience. I raised my sword without thinking—an old habit.

As I lowered it again, I knew that, one way or another, it would be the last time I saluted my old master.

My heart pounded rhythmically in my chest, beating in time to the war drum that signaled the start of the fight. And with a final trumpet’s blare, it was time for the carnage to begin.