This man wasn’t dying fast enough.

​

Reina drummed her fingertips against her knee. She and an entire amphitheater of spectators leaned forward, eager for bloodshed.

​

The raging dragon in the ring kicked up a cloud of dust and sand in pursuit of its prey. Murmurs of excitement and intrigue rose from the crowd when the fighter suddenly slipped. His crude steel sword fell from his hand, and he flipped to his back just as the dragon shadowed him. Powerful jaws muffled his panicked shriek. And with a final crunch of bone, the fight was over.

​

A light smattering of applause showered the dragon as it feasted.

​

Reina sighed through her teeth, her heartbeat calming.

​

In the commentator’s box, a man shouted into a horn that amplified his voice. “The odds for the Infernal continue to rise!” He beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Trainers, please.”

​

At his behest, a group of men—each clothed in fire-resistant armor and equipped with chains and noise-makers—jogged out into the arena to contain the dragon while another team cleared away the gory remnants. Curious spectators leaned over the sides of the barriers to get a closer look at the carnage.

​

Continuing with a grand sweep of his arm, the announcer called, “Our next fighter graces our presence from the shining jewel of Caer Savalier. Please welcome to the ring Ser Demerin the Valiant!”

​

Reina tore her eyes away from the littering of blood and bones. Her head swiveled toward the champion’s corner—just a darkened box from this distance. “Did he just say ‘ser’?”

​

As the trainers cleared the area, the iron gates of the champion’s box opened, and a mountain of a man sauntered into the ring, wearing spotless silver armor. He wielded a heavy broadsword and carried no shield. His face was concealed behind a helmet, but his battle cry was as clear as a war horn.

​

At the opposite end of the ring, the Infernal dragon snarled, licking its lips. Ser Demerin did not flinch.

​

Reina scoffed. “And here I thought that dragon fighting was beneath the Kingsguard.” She elbowed Meiryn, frowning at her hunched shoulders and bowed head. “How long do you think he’ll last?”

​

Meiryn peeked at the fighting ring through her fingers. “Hopefully longer than that last man, if he’s actually a knight.”

​

“He is,” Reina said, pointing at the shimmering silver figure. “Armor like that only comes from Caer Savalier.”

​

“Well, let’s just hope it lasts him a while, then.”

​

“You’re forgetting who we’ve placed our bets on,” Reina muttered.

​

A broad ring of at least a couple hundred spectators roared with excitement when Ser Demerin brandished his sword. Reina joined the battle cries. The Infernal lashed its tail back and forth, chains rattling like bells.

​

Ser Demerin charged. He dodged the dragon’s spiked tail with a gallant leap that brought the crowd to their feet. Reina hopped up on the bench just in time to catch the knight’s blade carving a deep gash in the dragon’s thigh. Blood sprayed his armor. The Infernal gnashed its teeth, and the knight rolled under its belly, dragging his sword through armored scales.

​

The dragon’s shrill cry rattled through the air. Reina raised herself on tiptoe, staggering when the benches wobbled. Meiryn steadied her and cast her an exasperated look.

​

“Sit down—you’ll fall and get hurt again.”

​

Reina ignored her, craning her neck. She tracked the knight’s path between raised fists and bobbing heads. “I think this’ll be the last one,” she gasped. Anxiousness churned her stomach. She glanced toward the betting table, where all of her and Meiryn’s shared gold sat in a small coin purse. “Ser Demerin is holding out.”

​

Meiryn, eyes low, shared a cautious look with Reina. It would be safer to pull their winnings out now; they’d already tripled the amount they’d thrown in. But if they sat through this fight, and the dragon won again, they’d be even better off for their journey tomorrow.

​

So Reina waited, and she watched as the knight rolled to his feet and delivered a hard kick to the dragon’s ribs. The Infernal careened sideways, wings shooting out for balance. Ser Demerin lifted his sword high and tore the blade clean through the leathery wing.

​

A piercing cry erupted from the throat of the Infernal. The crowd was practically jumping in their seats as the dragon clawed at the sands, trying to drag itself away from Ser Demerin. Its eyes followed the knight’s movements, and he glared back, teeth bared. He marched around to the dragon’s opposite side and tore through its second wing. The Infernal was flightless. 

Pain kept the dragon down as Ser Demerin rushed forth with an onslaught of attacks. Blood spewed from every incision; his sword sang a brutal song of death and triumph; and the crowd began chanting Ser Demerin’s name when he finally brought the beast to its knees.

​

The shouting rose to deafening volumes, drowning out the Infernal’s shuddering wail. Reina could barely hear her own thoughts. Ser Demerin tore his helmet off, revealing a greying head of hair and a smug face. Trails of crimson trickled down his sword when he lifted both arms in the air and roared.

​

“Ser Demerin won!” Reina cried.

​

Meiryn’s hands were clamped over her ears, but she snapped her head in Reina’s direction. “He won?”

​

Reina’s vision tunneled on the knight. The cheers slurred into a thick drone. A slow fire crept into her chest.

​

Everything they had—all the gold they had saved up—was gone. Lost in a reckless gamble.

​

Reina started to reply, but a shrill scream cut through the cheers, followed by horrified gasps. She turned back toward the arena just in time to see the dragon lift its head and unhinge its jaws.

​

While Ser Demerin bathed in praise, a great, roaring fire built in the back of the dragon’s throat. Warning cries lifted—but too late.

​

Ser Demerin had barely spun before the Infernal released a swirling vortex of flame. People shrank back in their seats. Reina’s mouth fell open as Ser Demerin’s armor melted into his skin. His scream split the air like a knife. Silver bled into crimson, and the scent of burning flesh stifled the air. Smoke billowed from his body as he sank to his knees, then collapsed in the sand. Unmoving.

​

Dead.

​

A stunned hush fell over the crowd. The dragon pawed at the knight and gave a satisfied huff, fangs sinking through charred flesh and warped silver.

​

The announcer rushed to the stand. “Well,” he called, chuckling uneasily, “that was quite a finish! Another mark for the Infernal, please.”

​

A group of four or five men rose from their seats, grumbling and muttering. They cast a nasty look toward the dragon. As they exited the arena, they dropped handfuls of gold into a betting stand.

​

Reina exhaled heavily and sat down again. Hope loosened the tension in her shoulders. She leaned close so Meiryn could hear her over the roaring stands. “See? I told you that Infernal is strong.”

​

Meiryn peered at her through her fingers. “And if the next fighter happens to kill it instead, then we’ve lost everything. Let’s just go.”

​

Reina, still exhilarated by the fight, waved a dismissive hand. “You saw how it took out that man in the end.” She paused. “Well. No, you didn’t. But it was fantastic.” It was just like the fights she heard stories about when she was growing up. Dragon fights were a poor man’s form of entertainment, her parents had sneered, but Reina found them utterly enthralling. Riveting, fast-paced, not a moment to spare looking anywhere but at the bloodbath in the middle of the arena.

​

Meiryn just groaned and rolled her eyes.

​

“Now,” the announcer said, “we have one last fighter for this evening. Hailing from the rippling emerald fields of the Ashuman Empire, I welcome to the ring—Nona!”

​

Reina frowned as a tiny figure strode out from the champions’ corner. The woman—who looked more like a child from this distance—couldn’t have been much older than Reina herself, and she carried only two whips.

​

When the crowd caught sight of her, mixed reactions met her one-handed waves. Applause was scattered. Lighter. But from one corner of the arena, a group of burly men erupted into a fit of boos and hisses. Reina sat back when someone shouted, “Malduna!” Another urged that the fight was rigged so that Nona—a little Ashuman woman—could finish off a nearly dead dragon and go home with all the winnings. It had happened once before, and since then, no one trusted any Ashuman who stepped into the ring with a dragon.

​

Nona held her head high, as if the accusations and outrage could not reach her.

​

Meiryn finally dropped her hands. Her voice was hard, her tone wary. “Reina, maybe we should leave.”

​

But Reina shook her head. “I want to see how this woman plans to take down a fully matured dragon.” And what she planned to do if things didn’t go her way. To admit defeat would be to brand herself a coward, but standing her ground could very well lead to her death.

​

“No—look.” Meiryn nodded at the group of men who had made their way to the barrier of the ring. They shouted insults and slurs, which were met with either silence or uncomfortable laughter.

​

Nona’s brow lowered. She turned her back to the crowd. Her lips moved, but whatever she whispered drowned beneath the chanting of “Malduna.”

​

Deceiver. Trickster. Enemy.

​

It was an insult that people had spat at Reina’s own feet, so she was no stranger to this mistrust. But even still, she tugged her hood up.

​

The bell announced the start of the fight, and Reina gasped when Nona darted to the dragon’s side, as swift as the wind. With a resounding snap-snap, snap-snap, her whips pierced through every insult thrown her way. She tapped the Infernal’s tail, then leaped away when it swiveled. Her voice was a thin cry, egging the dragon on and taunting it around the fighting ring.

​

In a mere few seconds, Nona had managed to captivate the audience with her strange tactics. Even Meiryn lifted her head to watch the fight.

​

Nona dodged every spitting ember, snaked between every tendril of flame. She danced mere feet from the Infernal’s jaws, whips snapping with an almost rhythmic cadence that put the dragon in a trance. At one point, Nona reached out to it, and she appeared to coil a rope of flame around her arm. But when she leaped away from those razor-sharp fangs, her skin was unmarred. The only fire lighting up the arena was the excitement in her eyes.

​

The spectators were enchanted, forgetting that they’d come for bloodshed. But it was only when Nona swept around to their side of the arena that Reina finally realized what was happening.

​

Without laying a hand or a blade on the dragon, Nona was provoking it. Urging it to attack with the flames it had been trained to stifle. Her whips were not weapons to inflict harm; she was directing the Infernal’s attention—directing its fire past the barriers of the ring.

​

The dragon growled a low warning. Weary eyes flashed like diamonds. Against the broken armor of blood-spattered scales, Reina saw a dull, flickering glow. Dread gripped her, and she gripped Meiryn’s arm. “We need to go.”

​

Meiryn cast her an alarmed look. “But you wanted to stay—”

​

“And now I am saying we must go.”

​

Reina pulled Meiryn to her feet right as Nona darted to the far end of the arena, where the men still jeered like dogs. Reina’s heart pounded as the Infernal stretched its jaws. Nona rocked on her feet, whips snapping on either side of the dragon’s head. “Come on, you! Light it up!”

​

With a bellowing roar, the dragon unleashed its fury.

​

The audience shrieked as fire swept into the stands, stretching thirty, forty, fifty feet back. The men’s taunts turned to screams of fear.

​

Meiryn gasped, clasping the back of Reina’s shirt. Reina twisted and grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward. 

Nona was still darting about the ring. She wove between pillars of smoke and fire—untouched by any of it. Chaos broke out when another breath of flame scorched the arena.

​

The announcer was shouting furiously, his voice drowning beneath the clamor of panic. He waved his arms, and two men broke into the fighting ring. Nona’s back was to them, but before they reached her, an arrow shot from somewhere in the crowd.

​

Reina whipped her head around and found a redheaded archer at the furthest corner of the spectator stands. Another arrow was already nocked in their bow. Reina blinked—and the second guard crumpled at Nona’s feet.

​

Nona whirled. Her eyes went wide, and she ducked when the dragon tossed its head, spewing embers and scoring trails of fire into the fighting sands.

​

Reina grabbed Meiryn and yanked her down. Fire raged over them, then swept in a wide arc.

​

“What does she think she’s doing?” Meiryn shrieked. “She’s going to get everyone killed!”

​

“No,” Reina gasped. “She’s setting the dragon free.”

​

And if that were true, then that could only mean—

​

“It’s the Hunters Guild!” a voice screamed.

​

No sooner did the words tear through the chaos than a stream of armed fighters flooded into the ring. Half of their numbers swarmed the dragon, gripping its chains and slamming their weapons against the steel. Someone drove an axe through the wooden barrier that kept the dragon’s leash tethered to the wall. The other half stormed the stands near the champion’s corner, dousing the benches and stairs with oil. The flames grew hotter. Higher. They stretched up to the ceiling, emitting a pungent odor.

​

The stands shuddered as spectators trampled over one another. Once seated in neat rows, the people now pushed and shoved in a formless mass, keeping a wide berth between themselves and the dragon.

​

Reina held fast to Meiryn and led them closer to the fighting ring, where fire surged but the path was clearer. The heat drew sweat to their brows. Smoke shrouded everything from view. Reina had lost sight of Nona—and the archer who had saved her—but she shuddered to a halt when the dragon screeched. Crippled wings flailed in desperation; jagged and rotted teeth snapped dangerously near, splintering the stands just behind them.

​

“Reina!” Meiryn screamed, shaking her by the shoulders. “We need to go!”

​

Startled, Reina scrambled forward. Meiryn kept their hands clasped tightly, and Reina was merciless and unapologetic as she shoved through the tunnel and out into the city.

​

People scattered like rats. The place was already swarming with guards shouting for reinforcements and water buckets. Reina dodged around them and ducked into the nearest alleyway, dropping into the shadows.

​

Smoke billowed upward, and firelight burned within, giving the arena the look of a massive forge. Guards rushed inside, swords whining.

​

“Six hells,” Meiryn swore breathlessly. She raked a hand through her full head of gold hair, pale hands shaking violently. “I will never let you get me that close to another dragon again.”

​

Reina gasped and leaned her head back. Despite everything, she managed a flicker of a smile. “They’re amazing, aren’t they? And that’s just an Infernal. I can’t imagine what a Hibern might do… Seeing them up close—it’s different than just hearing stories.”

​

It was enthralling.

​

“Well, I think I’ve had more than enough encounters,” Meiryn retorted. “If that’s how an injured dragon fights, then it’s no wonder the Order hasn’t made any ground on the Nest.”

​

Reina shrugged. She knew that the Silver Order sought to exterminate dragons forever, but it was fights like these that gave cause to her admiration for the beasts. They were untamed and uncontrollable. Their existence alone kept the entire kingdom of Ver Signia on constant alert.

​

Their ferocity was the reason the Order so often failed to eradicate dragons, and why independent organizations like the Hunters Guild were so dangerous. Unleashing something as unpredictable as that…

​

Those huntsmen were more insane than the agents of the Order who sought to slaughter what the Ashumans called kaeli rekks—rulers of the sky.

​

Reina jerked her head up when the sound of creaking wood and rattling chains grew louder. She peered around the corner of the alleyway—just in time to see the Infernal tear through the walls of the arena.

​

Wood splintered. Stone crumbled in a cloud of dust. Meiryn screamed, and Reina silenced her with a tight hand over her mouth.

​

The dragon was no more than fifty feet away. It sniffed the air and opened its wings, but Ser Demerin had stripped it of its ability to fly. The ground trembled and stone walls shuddered as the Infernal set off at a sprint. Reina watched, mouth agape, as the dragon raced toward the eastern gates, leaving a trail of ruin and fear in its wake.

​

Stragglers poured out of the arena. Like wolves, the huntsmen clashed against city guards—a few slipping free to chase after the dragon, more falling at the hands of their enemy.

​

But Reina stilled when she saw a small figure stumble out of the chaos.

​

“Look,” she gasped, “it’s Nona.” 

​

The woman only had one whip left, and she was coughing violently, each step staggering and lilting. When she emerged from the flames, the guards pointed, lifting their voices in alarm.

​

Reina sank back as they swarmed the Ashuman fighter. They disarmed her and chained her wrists behind her back. A wave of huntsmen surged forward, the redheaded archer the first among them.

​

The battle didn’t last long, for the fire swelled to a deafening roar, and the walls of the arena caved. Ash and soot tainted the air. Embers jumped from the wreckage. Reina was so transfixed on the battle that she almost forgot about Meiryn until she felt a harsh tug on her arm.

​

Meiryn’s eyes were wide and terrified. She looked pale in the glow of the firelight. “We need to go,” she breathed, tearing herself free of Reina’s grip. “Please.”

​

Reina glanced back, where the guards had just managed to pry a kicking and thrashing Nona off the ground. The archer shouted, her voice hoarse and frantic, but one of her companions held her back.

​

“You can’t do anything to help her,” Meiryn insisted, pulling on Reina’s arm again.

​

“No.” Reina shook her head. It wasn’t Nona’s capture that rooted a cold dread into her stomach now. It was the sinking realization that she had forgotten something vitally important. The whole reason they’d come here and risked everything. 

“All our gold,” she breathed. “Everything we saved—it’s all gone.”

​

And the woman responsible had just been captured.