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IT WAS CLEAR THAT MAER had no interest in speaking to me or anyone else. Unless it meant demanding answers, and that seemed a bit of a line to cross for anyone at the moment.
I was okay with that, I supposed. It was dumb to think the two of us could be on polite speaking terms.
But I couldn’t help the lurch of fear in my heart when the Rhidian sliced her arm and then her calf. She only made it as far as three opponents—her worst record ever. She blundered through the fights, her stances off balance, her strikes not as strong. It seemed like she was only a beginner at swordplay, as if she was still adjusting to the weight of her blade. It wasn’t like her, and not fighting yesterday. Someone had forced her back in the arena too soon.
The arena, which was always focused on Maer and me from the start, was stunned into silence. The other Gladiators had even stopped to gape in disbelief. What in the world had happened to Maer Whisler that she forgot how to fight?
Maer collapsed onto her knees in the dirt, one hand clutching her injured arm, the other arm wrapping around her torso. Had she been injured there, too?
Then she raised her arm to yield.
My gasp was lost in the collective one of the arena’s. Maer Whisler? Yield? That never happened. I’d never thought the day would come.
No one made to stop her as she hauled herself to her feet and limped to the barracks. But I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my eye—Cirillo was no longer on his mezzanine. Ciel was, though, and she looked murderous. When she caught me looking, she gave the smallest smirk.
I looked away quickly—just as the action resumed and I had to block Maer’s previous attacker.
I’d not noticed it before, but now it was clear: Cirillo and Maer had history. There were very few reasons why a vampire would be worried if a human was injured. And none of them were innocent.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I focused on the opponent in front of me. It was time to fight, not let my thoughts be concerned with things I couldn’t change.
Surprisingly—or not—Cirillo didn’t return for the rest of the fight. I came out the final victor. Agana praised me and gave me half her winnings.
“Wear your finest tomorrow,” she told me as I left the barracks.
I blinked in surprise. Dressing nice for the Revelry was reserved for high-ranking members of covens. Agana’s immediate family, her bodyguards, lords and ladies, and their privileged Bleeders all wore Bloodfrost’s rich, red robes with ice-blue stitching, their hair decorated with bones and ribbons. They were allowed the finest wines and richest foods and were given access to the best entertainment. It was an incredible honor.
It wasn’t an appealing offer, but I found myself stumbling over my words. “I don’t own anything except—Wait, can my sister join us?”
Agana Kirsi was a prideful creature. She surrounded herself with luxury and beauty and influential followers, and she was cruel and careless. To her, all humans were just playthings to drink from and boss around, yet she expected them to treat her with as much respect as they would a god.
She narrowed her eyes as if I had asked if I could wear nothing. “What makes her as special as you are? What does she have to offer?”
“Sloan is good company,” I said quickly, not falling for her flattery. “She’s an apprenticing Medic.”
Agana looked down her nose at me. I was shocked to see she was actually considering it. “Is she pretty?”
As a big brother, I needed to defend my sister’s honor. I felt a rare glare of defensive anger and almost blurted, She’s the prettiest young woman in all of Bloodfrost! before catching myself from Agana’s trap.
The coven leader’s collection of pretty things extended beyond the material. She collected pretty humans, too. I refused to allow her to collect Sloan as a Bleeder.
“She’s decent,” I said mildly. Then I faked a smile. “She’ll be busy with her duties. There’s no need for—”
Agana laughed lightly, a beautiful, breath-stealing sound, and guided me to the side of the stone street that was steadily brimming emptier. She shooed away her companions, who left, grumbling with bitterness that their beloved leader’s attention was now on me instead of them.
The vampire’s eyes scanned me up and down. Her gaze felt like a freshly sharpened scythe blade sliding across my skin, just a hairsbreadth away from slicing flesh. “You know,” she said in a breathy sigh as she tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. The dark blond locks were getting long. “If you ever wanted to—”
I dared take a step back to cut her off.
Agana’s icy blue eyes flashed with instant rage. She bared her fangs, and for a moment, I thought she would bleed me dry for my insolence.
And then she was composed, everything about her preternaturally still. “I will send an outfit for you and your sister. Win the arena tomorrow, and I will up your weekly pay grade.”
I would have been genuinely grateful for the raise had fear not sluiced through my veins like ice water. The coven leader had just expressed interest in not just Sloan but me. She wanted me to become her Bleeder.
I never thought I would have to fear that fate for myself.
Wisely dipping my head and turning my gaze to the ground, I said, “Your gestures are greatly appreciated, Bone Jeweler.”
It was what she liked to be called, just like Aeros was the Gold God, Tanith was the Serpent Queen, and Cirillo was the Black Lord.
“Take your leave,” Agana dismissed coldly.
I bowed a little deeper before heading toward the bridges as steadily as possible. I felt her gaze burning a hole in my back, but I kept my head high. We were headed in the same direction. How soon would she follow?
But I didn’t glance back until I closed the door of the house. I leaned against it and closed my eyes, willing my heart to calm.
“Koen?”
Sloan’s worried voice brought immediate peace.
I opened my eyes to see her padding toward me from the kitchen table with two plates set out. No one else was around; they must have gone to bed already.
Her dark brows furrowed. “What did Maer do this time?”
I laughed and shook my head. I couldn’t let her see me so rattled. But I did tell her the truth. “Agana invited me to join her at the Revelry—”
“She wants you to become her Bleeder, doesn’t she.” Sloan’s tone was as flat as her expression, though her eyes blazed with anger. It wasn’t a question.
There was no hiding it, then. I nodded. Then cracked a smile. “Told you I wasn’t ugly.”
Scowling, Sloan shoved my chest, though I saw her fight a smile. I would do anything to keep that there. She spent too much time frowning. “Dummy.” She sighed. “We’ll talk about that later. Sit. Eat, bathe, sleep, in that order.”
I patted her head. “All right, all right.”
I was glad for her bossiness sometimes. Now especially, because it abated the fear of being just another plaything for a vampire.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY I WORKED the fields; that night I emerged victorious again, gaining the pay raise Agana had promised. Maer was back at Cirillo’s side. I sensed she was watching me the entire fight, but she looked studiously elsewhere whenever I glanced her way.
Agana’s Revelry parcel arrived shortly after I returned home, including one for Sloan. She sucked in a breath when she laid it out. It was a magnificent, blood-red fabric that left little to the imagination with strings of gold chain and ribbons for her hair. Then she scowled deeply; she wouldn’t be lured in.
We didn’t don them yet. We were both chosen to participate in the setup in neutral territory—known as the Square, where all festivities took place. Celebrations were always focused on the Entertainers—stages needed to be erected for bands, gardens needed to be cleared for acrobats, the streets needed to be cleared of even the smallest piece of trash for the parade, and so on.
The last person I expected to see joining the efforts was Maer. Even more surprising, she was aiding Galen Shayla, Moros’s senior Medic, in setting up tents and supplies for healers to tend to any wounded. At least two Entertainers were injured in their performances, and sometimes, a low-rank vampire bit someone they weren’t supposed to.
It was what the Revelry was all about—letting loose. Letting go of inhibitions to drink until you were blacked out in the gutters or getting a little too friendly with someone from a different coven. Many things went wrong on these nights.
“Watch it!” Gray shouted as the tent we were hoisting up tilted to the side, threatening to come crashing down.
I caught Maer looking up. Our gazes met, and I forgot what I was doing.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she yelled my name in warning, taking a step forward.
Gray shouted again, but I had already lost my grip on the pole—
The seven-foot hunk of wood knocked me to the ground and slammed on top of me.
My vision blacked out for a moment, the breath knocked violently out of my chest, and the back of my head whammed on the hardpacked dirt.
Then I was staring up at the blue sky with the dazzling afternoon sun baking down.
It was blocked by three heads—Sloan, Gray, and Maer, all leaning over to make sure the log hadn’t punched the life right out of me.
“You idiot!” both girls snapped in tandem. They glared at each other.
“Maer Whisler,” growled my sister accusingly.
Maer’s look was equally venomous. “Who are you?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m his sister! And you dropped that on him!”
“I did not!”
Gray and a few others were hauling the log off. Three Medics, including Galen Shayla, were crouched around me to assess my condition. “Girls,” I said, my voice coming out in a raspy cough. “Feels like I got punched by a wood giant.”
“Those aren’t real,” Sloan snapped, whirling on me with rage flushing her cheeks. Was she mad at me or Maer? “Why are you ogling her when you should be focused on your job?!”
“Ogling?” Maer and I repeated together. She turned her glare on me again.
I tried to sit up, which made the healers fret in protest. “I feel okay. Just winded. I’ve taken worse. Maer, Sloan, I—”
They both made angry, exasperated noises and stormed off in different directions, leaving me quite confused. I glanced at Gray, who was watching me with worry and guilt.
“I don’t get it. What did I do?”
* * *
I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND women. But that was a later problem. First, I had to survive the Revelry.
The vampires swarmed out the moment the sun dipped over the horizon. Sloan and I were waiting by the Bloodfrost bridge for Agana. We would take a walk through the Square with her before finding the more exclusive ventures.
My sister grumbled to herself as the night became alive with movement, the smell of alcohols and rare desserts, the sounds of the Entertainers—all five senses adding up to a visceral feeling of fear and foreboding. The vampires would have the time of their lives. Humans were just waiting for something bad to happen.
My body was coiled tight with it—the sixth sense that warned my brain to be on guard.
“You look pretty,” I told Sloan, pushing her hand down from where she was fussing with her neckline.
“Oh, please,” she snapped. “You like it less than I do.”
It was true; I avoided looking at her because the outfit exposed more skin than we’d thought. She was already getting hungry looks. “Let’s go buy a shawl, then,” I said, looping my arm in hers and guiding her into the Square. “We’ll meet up with Agana sooner or later.”
“How’s your head?” she asked as we weaved through the living river of people.
“Achey,” I admitted. “My chest—”
Someone bumped into me and snarled, “Watch it—Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
It was Maer.
Before either of us could speak, Sloan scoffed and stormed off. I tried to catch her but missed. When Maer tried to do the same, I managed to grab her wrist, pulling her between two shop buildings, escaping from the throng.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted.
Maer’s light blue eyes widened. She seemed genuinely confused. “For what? You’re the one who dropped a tree on yourself.”
I grinned. “I pride myself on my lack of clumsiness, but sometimes I lapse. You look nice.”
She did. Her hair was curled, and her eyes were limned with smoky kohl; she wore an oversized Moros-black overcoat buttoned to hide whatever outfit was beneath. I would be surprised if she didn’t trip on the hem.
But she scowled as if it was an insult. “No, I—Look out!”
I turned when she screamed and pointed. “What—”
And then a bag was thrown over my head—right before I was punched unconscious.
