The sound of Thrace barking orders echoes through our hut. Rosalind and I are still recovering from our last fight, so Thrace has given us time to heal. Medics come once a day, examine us, then leave. Along with the sound of our fellow gladiators’ training comes the noise of construction. We’ve won enough fights now that repairs are being done to the villa.

“There has to be some way to get a message to Arcan,” Rosalind says.

“I can’t think of one,” I say. “He is probably being watched. We’ll have to wait for him to contact us.”

“I don’t think we have that kind of time,” she says, hunching over, her brow furrowing with worry.

Outside there’s a roaring sound, growing louder. Frowning, we both stand and walk out of the hut. The sound is close now, echoing off the stone walls. It pulls up outside the gates to the villa, and guards rush around in a flurry until at last one of them opens the door.

An entourage walks in, dressed in the green and gold colors of the king. A door into the main house slams open and the master rides out on his purple monstrosity.

“Welcome!” he says, walking up to the delegation. “May I offer you… anything?”

“No,” a man in the middle of the group says, looking around with disdain. “I have a message from the king. Accept it so I can be on my way.”

“Of course, what an honor,” Master says, forcing his ride to bend at the waist then holding his hands out to take the message.

The messenger hands a paper to him, then turns and walks out the door without another word. The guards swing it shut as the roaring sound comes back to life, and yellow dirt is thrown through the opening. The machine he rode here in leaps into motion and speeds away.

The master tears open the letter, paper dropping away. All of us, gladiators and guards, watch in anticipation. I watch his eyes widen, his head shake and then tilt to one side. A slow smile spreads across his face. He walks his ride up to Thrace, who is standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Thrace!” he exclaims, waving the paper. “Good news!”

The paper flutters towards Thrace, who plucks it out of the air then reads it. His eyes narrow and his mouth hardens into a tight line.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “This throws out all the rules.”

“Look! Look at the rewards!”

Thrace reads it again and shakes his head negative. “Not worth it,” he says.

“You don’t get to choose!”

Thrace straightens, glowering, and for a moment it’s about to happen. Thrace could take out the master. We all know it, and so does the master. Metal on metal echoes as the guards shift, leaning forward, hands on weapons. They’re ready to go if Thrace makes a move.

Thrace blinks and seems to cave in on himself. He sighs and turns away.

“Ha! What is it?” Mesto asks the question on all of our minds.

Thrace looks at me then Rosalind. “You two will fight in the next arena for top ranking,” he says.

A sigh of relief slips out. I’d expected much worse, fighting Brisong is a welcome opportunity. I’ve wanted to put him in his place for a while now.

“Okay,” Rosalind says. “So why the long faces?”

“I don’t know what you mean ‘long faces’,” Thrace says. “But it’s not a normal fight. It’s a Blood Game.”

A collective gasp fills the silence that falls.

“No, that can’t be,” Todd says.

“Not fair,” Cenar adds.

“That isn’t all,” Thrace says, glaring at the master. Chills race along my scales while waiting for him to say what else there is. “Everything is on the line. If you lose, the master loses everything.”

“Why do we care?” Rosalind asks.

“He loses us,” Thrace answers. “All properties of the loser become property of the king.”

The chill turns so cold my body slows, aching muscles tremble, but deep in my core a fire burns.

“Ha!” Mesto says.

“It doesn’t matter, the Zmaj will win,” the master says, bouncing with excitement.

“What do you get out of this?” I ask.

“Ha, ha, ha!” he laughs, a screeching sound that tears at my ears. “Fame! Fortune! King will give me the pick of the surviving gladiators and one million credits!”

Of course the stakes had to be high, otherwise why post them.

The master turns his ride and goes back into the house, his laughter echoing in my ears long after he’s gone. Thrace stands still as a stone, saying nothing, staring ahead. A Blood Game, Rosalind at my side. No wooden weapons this time. They’ll be real, edged, and deadly. How can I protect her?

The weakness is growing worse. If she wasn’t in epis withdrawal, maybe she would be competitive, but the fight isn’t for days and each one she weakens. Time slips away like the sands of Tajss blowing in the breeze.

“Enough, begin training!” Thrace barks, cutting through the gloom of my thoughts.

No one moves, staring at Thrace as if waiting for a new order or a change of heart. Shaking my head to clear it of the cold and building anger, I move to the weapons rack, picking up my wooden swords.

“Wait,” Thrace barks, jerking all of our attention back to him. “Blood games require a new strategy.”

He turns and walks over to a door that is always locked. No one has ever opened it or entered it since we’ve been here. He pulls a key from his pocket, opens the door, and steps into the shadows. When he comes out again, his arms are loaded with weapons. Real weapons.

The guards shift, shiny new armor rattling as they do. Thrace ignores them as he walks to the middle of our semi-circle and dumps his load on the ground. The metal weapons clatter and spread out before us. Looking from the weapons to Thrace, a fresh glimmer of hope awakens in my core.

Crouching, I sort through the pile first, picking out two large swords, big enough that a smaller person would need two hands for each of them. Setting those aside, I spot a trident and an idea crystallizes. I stand up and hand it to Rosalind. She frowns, staring at it, then her eyes light up and she takes it.

The others pick out weapons, each to their liking, then we’re standing circled around Thrace.

“Someone is manipulating the games,” he says. “It was obvious after the last bout, but now it’s clear. The rules are gone. This is no longer a game of rank and prestige. It’s survival. The only question is, will you?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” we answer, speaking in unison.

“Good. Pair off,” he barks.

We set to work, rotating teams and training harder than we ever have. Thrace is right. We’re fighting for survival.

* * *

The sun’s last rays slip across the training grounds. Aches and pains plus my muscle-deep exhaustion blot out my thoughts. Rosalind is leaning on the trident, breathing heavily. Cenar sits on the ground with Todd next to him lying on his back wheezing. Only Mesto seems as fresh as when we started, his apparently inexhaustible supply of energy not yet tapped out.

“Good,” Thrace says. “You might survive. Your dinner is ready, eat.”

I offer my arm to Rosalind and she leans on it, giving me a brief smile. A long table has been set out laden with food. Whether this is Thrace’s doing or the master splurging on us, I don’t know or care. The food is good, rich, and flavorful, the best we’ve had since arriving. Eating with the gusto of a starved body, I down several helpings before finally feeling full. Thrace joins our circle and eats with us, another new thing.

“Thrace, what is going on?” Rosalind asks.

Thrace chews slowly, staring at the plate before him.

“I don’t know,” he answers, after swallowing. “I’ve been here a long time. This doesn’t happen. Blood games are for criminals or retirement. They’re rare, and never for someone climbing the ladders. A gladiator’s value is in long-term entertainment. A bet of this size, by the king himself?”

Arcan’s words come back to me. Epis. It has to be about epis and Tajss. When we were captured, I’d resigned myself to never seeing Tajss again. That brought with it a certain appeal. On Tajss, Rosalind and I were prevented from being together by duty and the demands of our positions. All of that was behind us, but it turns out there’s no escaping responsibility.

My presence here has set things in motion. Unwelcome things are coming for Tajss, and they’re not ready. Closing my eyes, the weight settles on my shoulders. My plans to escape had been to save Rosalind, but this makes it about more than our personal concerns.

“Who gains what?” Rosalind asks. “What are the politics of the situation?”

Thrace shakes his head. “I don’t know. Too many, too varied, but there’s only one thing that ever stirred up the galaxy this much.”

He stares at me, not saying what he’s thinking, but I know. Rosalind does as well. His suspicions are the same as mine. The king wants to know if Tajss is still viable. He wants epis and control of its distribution. Power in this galaxy was and could be again defined by the one who controls epis.

Tajss needs to fade back into obscurity. There are only two ways for that to happen. The knowledge they want is in Rosalind and me. Either we escape or . . . The other alternative isn’t an option.

“All right scrubs, sleep,” Thrace says, rising to his feet. “There will be new strategies to drill tomorrow.”

He walks away, fading into the black of the night, leaving us sitting in the dark. Todd and Cenar climb to their feet, Cenar’s body making loud grinding noises as the rocks that serve as his skin rub together. The two of them walk into our hut followed by Mesto and K’sara. Rosalind and I sit alone in the dark. She lays her hand over mine.

“We have to get back,” she whispers.

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s bad. Worse than I could have expected.”

Putting an arm around her shoulders, I pull her into a kiss. Her soft, delicate lips ignite the fire, and my first cock is instantly hard, throbbing with need and desire. She is all I want, all I need, and what I would give to be able to push aside everything else and have her.

She presses against me, the soft mounds of her chest smashing between us, making my core a raging inferno. My cock pounds with need, and blood drains from my head to fill the demands of my dick. Leaning further into her, I bend her before me until she’s on the ground and I’m over her. My massive erection tenting out my pants, I press my hips down, grinding against her. She groans, hands running along my arms and up across my back, lightly stroking my wings.

Her tongue presses into my mouth, seeking mine, as our lips move against each other. Reason leaves. I have to have her.

Sliding a hand between us until I find the fastening of her pants, fumbling at it until it springs free. She lifts her hips, letting me slide them down. My fingers run through soft fur, seeking the object of my craving. Moisture greets my fingertips and a sigh whispers past my ear. Rosalind groans into my mouth, thrusting her hips up, driving my finger down along her wet slit. Nothing has ever felt this good. Sliding into her dripping tunnel, folds of her sweetness clamping on my finger as I push deep inside her.

My cock spasms hard, the first hints of my need dampening my pants. She moves against me, pushing onto and off my finger, which slips in and out of her easily. Shoving my tongue into her mouth, I push a second finger into her wetness, claiming her body. She melts against me, but then she’s thrusting with wild abandon. Responding in kind, I shove my two fingers in and out of her while driving my tongue around hers. She breaks the kiss, gasping for air, huffing with each thrust I make into her body.

Her eyes bore into me and mine into her as I find the points of her pleasure and tease them with fingers. She stiffens under me, nails digging into my back, while her eyes roll up and she moans a long, low sound. Her body spasms as I drive my fingers deep and hold them inside her. Her muscles clench my fingers tight, releasing then clamping down again. Over and over again while her beautiful voice gives sound to her pleasure. The moon peeks out, and soft silver light illuminates her in this most sacred moment of pleasure. She’s so beautiful an ache forms in my chest.

Nothing can happen to her. She is my treasure. She’s all I’ve lived my long life to have. The person who completes the universe, makes it all worth it. All the pain, all the loss, was only to prepare me for her. The arch in her back eases, and she lowers herself to the ground beneath me. As her muscles relax my fingers are freed, and I slide them out, loving the scent of her as I do. My throbbing cock, pounding between my legs, begs for relief. As I reach for the tie of my pants, armored boots appear in the edge of my vision.

“Uhm-hm,” the guard clears his throat.

Before thought I’m moving, tackling the guard and taking him to the ground. Everything is red, rage claims control, rearing an arm back with balled fist, I swing at the downed guard.

“Visidion, no!” Rosalind screams, cutting through the red.

I stop my fist an inch from the guard’s head. He’s struggling to cover his face and protect himself, moisture falling from his eyes, broken teeth mouthing words that don’t make sense. Tension drains from my muscles when Rosalind places a hand on my shoulders. The other guards are a few feet away, swords drawn, forming a circle around me. I might be able to take them all, and if I was alone, I’d try. Rosalind is here though, and it would put her in too much danger.

Dropping my fist, I climb off the guard, then offer him a hand up. He takes it, shaking his head. Surprisingly, the guards around us sheathe their swords. Rosalind’s and my value must be so much now that the repercussions of harming us outweigh their sense of pride about one of them having his ass handed to him.

The guard shuffles his feet, glances around at the others, and only then meets my eyes.

“I have a message,” he says.

“Okay?” I ask, exchanging a confused look with Rosalind.

“The arena is rigged. Be ready. When chaos erupts, move,” he says.

“That’s it?” Rosalind asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, shrugging.

“What does that mean? Who is it from?” I ask.

His eyes move furtively to one other guard in particular, so I turn my attention to him.

“Arcan,” he says, speaking at last.

Rosalind and I look at each other.

“And that’s it?” I ask.

Something passes behind the eyes of the guard. He knows something more, but will he tell me?

“Yeah,” he says. “Be ready. That’s all any of you need to know.”

The guards walk away. Rosalind takes my hand, and together we walk into our hut. We’re in deep sand, and the longer we’re here the more it feels we’re being swallowed. There is a lot going on here that is unclear. Inside, the others sit in a circle around the common-room fire. They look up as we enter as if they were waiting for us.

“What did they want?” K’sara asks, making it obvious they were watching what happened.

“A message from Arcan,” I say.

They all look at each other.

“Seven Widows’ sweat, what have you two gotten us into?” Todd curses.

“It’s coming together. We have to escape, and now we have outside help,” Rosalind says.

“Maybe, or maybe it’s all a trap,” K’sara says.

“It could be,” I admit. “But do we really have a choice?”

“I do,” Todd says.

“We don’t,” I say, anger flashing hot. “If you’re not in, then say so. I’m fine to leave you behind if that’s what you want.”

Todd shrugs.

“Ha! He’s right,” Mesto says.

“Cenar stands with you,” he throws into the ring. “I want to be free.”

“Fine,” K’sara says, sounding more resigned than agreed.

“Mesto?” I ask.

“Ha! Mesto behind is not. Adventure I like.”

“Todd, please,” Rosalind speaks softly, imploring Todd. “We need you.”

Todd looks at her, scratching his belly.

“Fine,” he shrugs. “Todd will help where Todd can. You don’t leave me behind.”

“Agreed,” I say.

“So what is the plan?” K’sara asks, cutting to the heart of the matter.

“Be ready,” I say, wishing I had something more to give.

“Ha! Be ready,” Mesto exclaims.

“Sure, but what’s the message from Arcan? He’s the blasted adviser to the king, Widows’ random hairs, how you got him involved I’ll never know. Is it some kind of Zmaj telepathy?” K’sara asks.

“There is no Zmaj telepathy,” I say.

“The message was to be ready, and that the games are going to be rigged,” Rosalind says.

“Rigged? Rigged how? In our favor, against us, what?”

“We don’t know. Something’s going to happen, and when it does there will be chaos. That’s our sign to move.”

“Great, be ready,” Todd snorts. “Beautiful plan. Widows’ sweat, we are in for it.”

“It’s more than we had,” I say, standing and offering Rosalind my hand. “Until tomorrow.”

I pull Rosalind to her feet and lead her to our space. The others sit up talking in muffled sounds. Lying next to Rosalind makes my cock stiffen at her closeness, but there is no privacy, and now is not the time to give in to base desires. She lays her head on my chest and in moments her breathing is soft and even, letting me know she’s asleep. Lightly stroking her hair, I stare at the ceiling trying to find sleep myself. All I can think about is how to protect her. How do I save her when it seems the entire planet is working against me?

Somehow I have to. I will. She is my treasure. I will destroy them all to save her.