I sat on the cold floor of Ruadan’s room, holding my side. I’d tried to stitch myself up a little bit. Since I didn’t know any magic, I couldn’t heal myself the way the other recruits would.

In the gladiator ring, the masters had allowed some types of magic—fireballs, electrical pulses, anything that didn’t require words. For the most part, gladiators were suspicious of anything that involved language. They liked pointy things and magic that went boom, but they weren’t exactly the thinking types.

I sighed. It was probably for the best that way. Someone like me probably shouldn’t have access to powerful magic, because gods knew what I’d do with it.

So instead of using magic to heal myself, I’d spent the last twenty minutes gritting my teeth and stitching my skin together with a needle and thread—something I’d done many times before. Sadly, I had to use up some of my whiskey to clean the wounds on my belly and my hip.

The wounds still didn’t feel quite right, though, and I only had to hope that the next trial would involve a bit less slicing.

Grimacing, I pierced the final piece of skin with the needle, then tied off the thread. I cut it and collapsed against Ruadan’s rocky bed.

Exhaustion ate at me, and I was trembling a little from the pain. Just as my eyes were drifting closed, the door creaked open.

Ruadan glided into the room. His very presence seemed to darken the space around him, the air frosting about us, candles flickering in their sconces.

I shuddered at the sight of him, until he pulled down his dark cowl. Then, my gaze roamed over the stark perfection of his face. The irritating bastard had a way of mesmerizing me.

Given that the gods had blessed him with such overwhelming beauty, it was a shame he always cloaked it with his hood and dark magic. But of course, a man like Ruadan wasn’t the type to indulge in trivial things like enjoying life at all.

Aengus pushed through the door behind him, and it creaked on its hinges.

“Where have you two been?” I asked.

Aengus’s lips curled in a wry smile. “Trying to figure out what to do with the queen you brought into our fortress.”

“Who is she?” I asked, still gripping my side.

Aengus shrugged. “Calls herself Nan Bullen. She’s a bit of a diva.”

“She’s pretty,” I pointed out. “Maybe she’ll make a charming wife for one of the knights.”

Aengus arched an eyebrow. “Has no one told you? Knights of the Shadow Fae are not allowed to take wives. Or lovers. Or anything enjoyable.”

I glanced at Ruadan, who’d taken one of his knives off the wall to sharpen it. “I can see why Ruadan fits in so well here, then. He hates fun. He’s happiest brooding in his room, sharpening his blades. He takes brooding breaks just to scowl at a bottle of whiskey and glare at anyone with the audacity to smile.”

“I hadn’t expected you to get to know him so quickly.” Aengus frowned at a bra I’d hung from the doorknob, then picked it up by the strap with one finger. “I like what you’ve done with his room. I’m sure Ruadan loves the feminine touch.”

Now that he mentioned it, I realized I’d left items of clothing strewn all over the place. My brain seemed to edit out my own mess until someone pointed it out to me.

“Doorknobs are made for hanging bras,” I countered. “It’s one of their important functions. Anyway, how is Melusine doing?”

“Alive, thanks to you.” He frowned. “Why did you stop to save the queen?”

I shrugged. “Because unpredictability is an asset.”

Aengus nodded slowly, his green eyes glimmering, but I had the sense that he didn’t believe me. “And Melusine? Why did you save her?”

“She gave me a strawberry.” I surprised myself with the truth.

I guess I did like her. I almost groaned at the realization that Baleros knew everything about me. Anyone showing me a tiny scrap of kindness would win my undying loyalty. He knew I’d been desperate for friendship in my cage, that the ruthless Amazon Terror lapped up kindness like a kitten drinking milk. Some sweets tossed on the floor every now and then, and he’d earned my devotion.

I’d escaped the cage, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever escape him. I was his slave, even now.

The horror of my realization washed over me. Baleros didn’t just think three steps ahead. He thought three hundred steps ahead. Years ago, when he’d noticed my tendency to become attached, he’d given me Ciara. Not because he wanted me to be comfortable—but because he could use her someday as leverage. Like he was doing now. Ciara was just a pawn to him, and always had been.

I shook with anger.

“Are you okay?” asked Aengus.

Ruadan, too, had paused his knife sharpening to stare at me.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

All this only proved Baleros’s first—and most important—law of power: Get in your enemy’s head. Knowing someone well gives you power over them.

Breathe in, breathe out. “Where is Melusine? How is she?”

“Sword fighting isn’t her strength, really, but magic is.”

I traced my fingertips over my waist. “I was worried about that. Magic. We don’t need to know it by any chance, do we?”

Ruadan looked up, raising his eyebrows.

“I can’t really do it,” I said. “I don’t suppose we have a magic-based trial coming up?”

Aengus’s features darkened. “Let’s just say you two had better start training, then.”

My stomach tightened. “I can’t just kill things with swords?”

Aengus and Ruadan both shook their heads simultaneously.

“All fae have magic,” said Aengus. “You just have to learn how to channel it. Not to mention whatever your other half is.”

Oh, friend, you do not want me to unleash my other half. I loosed a long, slow breath. “Fae nobility train with magic from the age of four. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Aengus shrugged. “You just have to survive.” He nodded at Ruadan. “He’s half-demon. None of us knows what your other half is, exactly. But the combination of fae and something else can be powerful, just like it is for Ruadan. His magic is more powerful than that of any knight here, including the Grand Master’s. You couldn’t have been matched with a better person to train you. You see? The Old Gods know what they’re doing.”

“Except that Ruadan hates me and he can’t explain things to me in words.”

Ruadan folded his arms, leaning back to glare at me.

“You are talking about him like he’s not here,” said Aengus. “He’s silent, not deaf.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“And he doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t … respect you.”

“That’s lovely. Cheers.”

“Because of the alcohol, and the bar-brawling, and general pointlessness of your existence, and—”

I held up a hand. “Yeah, we’ve been over it. He wrote it down for me. It was pretty much the one thing he wanted to communicate.” I frowned. “So why did you both choose me to come here?”

Aengus shrugged. “Because of how you fight. That’s it. You’re fast, clever, and ruthless. We could tell that before you even stabbed me in the neck. And we were right to choose you, because no novice before managed to slaughter the King of Mammon.” Aengus rubbed at his throat, as if remembering the pain I’d caused him. “Anyway, I have to get back to Melusine. Good luck with your magical learning.”

Tendrils of dark magic slid through the air around Ruadan. He stared at me, still sharpening his knife. Aengus wasn’t kidding that his magic was strong. It was coiling over my skin right now, raising my hair and making my back arch. A memory burned in my mind—his hand gripping my hair, his teeth on my throat.

The combination of his knife-sharpening and coils of magic was deeply unsettling. I tried not to think about the fact that he’d snapped the necks of his last two novices. I never wanted to be on his bad side.

Too bad I didn’t have a choice.

Cold dread spread through my veins. When I’d brought up the World Key before, he’d closed off. He didn’t trust me one bit, which was a problem. Ruadan wasn’t going to let down his guard at all around me.

I hugged my side, wincing a little. “Can we get some sleep now? It’s been a long day, and I need this to heal.”

Ruadan frowned, dropping his knife onto the stone table. Then, he rose, crossing to me.

He extended a hand to me, and surprise sparked in my chest. An unexpectedly friendly gesture. I took his hand and rose, and he walked me over to his bed. Then he gestured for me to sit down. I sat on the edge of his bed. The mattress was firm and unforgiving, because it was Ruadan’s, and of course it was.

To my increasing surprise, he knelt before me.

Things did not get any less surprising when he began to pull up my shirt.

“Whoa!” I stopped him, tugging on the hem. “What are you doing?”

He cut me a sharp look. I’d irritated him again. Wasn’t hard to do.

He pulled another small piece of paper and a pencil out of his trousers, and he started writing again. Then, he thrust the paper at me.

You need to heal.

“That’s where sleep comes in.”

He shook his head.

“You have healing powers, I suppose.” Given all the shadows and darkness that whirled around him, it wasn’t surprising. Shadow demons were known for their healing skills. Demons of death, demons of sleep, demons of easing the pain. They were like the opiates of the demon world, addictive and lethal at the same time.

I didn’t want him to see the scars that slashed across my body—my hips, my belly, really every part of me that I’d covered up. Then, I could no longer pass off the lie about the bar fights. Once he saw my scars, he’d know that I’d been a slave, one forced to fight.

If he thought I was ruthless just because I’d stabbed Aengus in the neck, he’d have a whole new definition of the word once he understood I was the Amazon Terror. That I’d slaughtered thousands to survive. Only the most brutal killers survived the arena.

And more—he’d know the worst thing about me: that I was the sort of sloppy, careless person who’d allowed myself to be captured in the first place. That I’d allowed someone to control me for years. Knowledge was power, and I didn’t need Ruadan learning that much about me.

My stomach clenched, and I shook my head. “No,” I said quietly.

I didn’t know why, but I felt tears stinging my eyes as I stood up. For some insane reason, I really wanted his approval. Why? I didn’t even like him, but I already yearned for his respect. Possibly because I knew I’d never get it.

I lay down on the cold stone floor and curled up, ready to sleep. The stone chilled my skin, and I shivered.

Ruadan crossed to his bed, and he blew into the air. Darkness blanketed the room.

As I closed my eyes, loneliness carved through me, so sharp it blocked out the pain of my wounds.