Only two were left. I looked from one to the other. It was clear from their faces that they were wondering which of them would be next, but I was tired of playing. Spinning both swords in my hands, I threw them at the same time, pinning both Souls to the bars. Like two filthy, impaled vampires they disintegrated, returning to ashes.

  The crowd cheered for my victory. I’d exterminated them all. I looked around, still trapped behind the bars of the cage, and a black butterfly fluttered up to me. I watched it as it landed on the ground nearby. Before it could transform I picked up a dagger and stabbed it. The creature wriggled and flapped its wings. I raised my eyes to Sophìa and twisted the blade in my prey. The last of the Damned.

  MORTAL CHALLENGE

  The bars withdrew, signaling the end of the first challenge. The spectators were delirious and couldn’t wait to see me face my next trial: a battle against a beast. After a momentary pause, flames rose up all around me and the ground began to shake. I picked up a javelin, squeezing my fingers around its grip.

  A blood-chilling grunt announced its arrival behind me. I spun around and saw it. Instinctively, I tried to back up but the flames blocked me. The crowd had fallen silent, holding their breath. The beast was huge. It looked like a giant buffalo with leathery skin and massive horns on its head. Even worse, it was staring at me as though it hadn’t eaten in months and I was its next meal. “Sit, boy, sit . . .” I said in a low voice. Enraged, the beast grunted and charged. I hurled the javelin, but it parried the blow with a head butt and continued its advance.

  I dodged it in the nick of time and ended up sprawled on the ground. “Oh, sorry, are you a she? Didn’t mean to offend you!” Maybe it wasn’t the best time to crack a joke, but a fire was burning inside me that was hotter than the flames surrounding us. Gemma’s poison was instilling confidence and strength in me.

  When the creature charged again I ran toward the fire and at the last second did a backflip out of its path while the beast continued through the wall of flames. Seconds later it returned, moving slowly toward me through the incandescent tongues of fire that hadn’t harmed it in the least.

  As though offended by the affront, the circle of fire broke up and dozens of flames began to dance across the battlefield like whips that lashed to and fro, making my every movement perilous. However, the fire was a problem only for me. The animal didn’t fear it and was ready to attack once more. I looked at Sophìa and she smirked. Was this how she planned to kill me? I would never give her the satisfaction of dying right before Gemma’s eyes. I focused on the beast and prepared myself for its next charge, which came soon. When it was close enough I grabbed hold of its horns and tried to leap onto its back, but the animal shook its head fiercely, making the endeavor impossible. In the end it won out and flung me away.

  I rolled away from the flames and crumpled to the ground, surprised by a shooting pain. Touching my side, I stared at my fingers. They were bloody. The beast had gored me. I gritted my teeth, the dirt making the gash burn.

  The ferocious creature snorted, stamped its hooves, and launched another attack, forcing me to spring to my feet before it could crush me. I staggered to where the dagger lay on the ground and picked it up. At the first opportunity I drove it into the beast’s chest. “Now we’re even.”

  The animal reared up, letting out a strange wail of pain. I seized my chance and climbed onto its back. It tried to throw me to the ground again but this time my grip was firm. I drew my dagger and plunged it into its skull. The beast’s eyes went wide and it froze, then crashed to the ground like a huge boulder, sending up a massive cloud of dust that covered everything. I pulled myself to my feet and waited for it to settle, my hand firm on the bloody dagger and my eyes locked on Sophìa’s. I was ready for the next challenge.

  Gemma rose, gazing into my eyes with pride. The panthers roared in their circle. In the stands, the spectators were ecstatic—not because I had bravely triumphed in the first two trials, but because the most difficult one awaited me: the duel against another Champion.

  All around the arena, the massive doors to the gymnasia opened and a band of Subterraneans emerged. They were all barefoot and bare-chested, clad in brown leather pants like mine, muscles tensed and prepared to do battle. Each panther came onto the field and positioned herself beside her Champion, all anxious for the Empress to choose my challenger. She rose and stood beside Gemma, offering me a contemptuous smile. For a second everything fell silent in expectation of her verdict.

  “You have battled valiantly,” she admitted, her gaze as sharp as a blade. “I must choose your opponent carefully. Naiad is my Specter now, and our new commander’s Champion must prove that his valor goes beyond that of all others. Only a Soldier worthy of her may be by her side. That is why you are to fight Zakharìa, my Champion.” A gasp escaped the crowd and Sophìa smiled.

  Another door opened—the largest one—admitting the last of the Subterraneans to the arena. The panthers roared angrily while all the spectators’ eyes turned to him. He was a tall, powerful man with dark skin and gray eyes as sharp as ice that challenged me. He strode to the center of the arena and knelt before his queen. I glanced at Gemma: her expression was concerned but she didn’t protest the choice.

  This was what Ginevra had been trying to warn me about: Sophìa’s Champion wasn’t just dangerous—his blood was lethal. Since time immemorial he’d been nurtured on his Amìsha’s vital essence and, like her, he could send a Subterranean to his eternal death in Oblivion. That was why the Empress had decided to send him out: to kill me.

  “What is it? You look concerned. Do you wish to ask me to withdraw you, perhaps?” the devil provoked me, her tone mocking.

  I trained my eyes on her fearlessly. “I’m ready to fight.” Gemma nodded, her eyes gleaming with pride.

  “Your courage is admirable, I must admit. It will be a true pity for Naiad to have to give you up.”

  My eyes locked with Gemma’s for a long moment, and then a group of guards marched onto the field and escorted me out of the arena.

  TO THE DEATH

  Ginevra’s last words filled my mind. That was what she’d been about to tell me: I would be up against Sophìa’s Champion. The Empress had planned this from the start. I’d gone through the first two trials wondering how she intended to get rid of me, and now I knew—by pitting me against Zakharìa in the most difficult challenge of all: the duel.

  Soldiers escorted me back to the gymnasium, where Gemma’s Mizhyas awaited me to dress my wounds. I scanned the crowd in search of my friends, but there was no sign of them. I tried to concentrate on the battle ahead. I couldn’t lose focus. A million reasons could have prevented Ginevra from reaching the Castle with her army. It was almost insane to think they might come to our rescue. I could count only on myself. The doors closed behind me and the three maidservants greeted me and had me sit down. They examined the gash in my side and prepared an ointment, then stanched the bleeding on my cheeks and shoulders and oiled my muscles. I let them do it, my mind fixed on Zakharìa’s gaze and its promise of death. I clenched my fists. I couldn’t let him kill me with Gemma watching. I had to fight and defend myself. It was my only chance of being with her again. I had to become her Champion. I tried to free my mind, but her blood was a powerful poison that obscured every other thought except those connected to her.

  I raised my head when the doors opened and Gemma entered the room. “Leave us,” she ordered without taking her eyes off me. The Mizhyas made a little bow and left. I strode to her and pressed my lips against hers. She kissed me back, taken by surprise. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers, forgetting everything around me—the bloodthirsty arena, the duel I was about to face. I could do it all if I had her.

  “You fought bravely,” Gemma said in a low, sensual voice. “I knew you would be a fine Champion.” She turned her back to me and walked away, her skirt’s long train leaving her sides bare. “However, you’re quite presumptuous in your ideas about your prize. You must first win the tournament for me if you wish to be rewarded.”

  I went up behind her and was about to grasp her shoulders to turn her around, but stopped with my hands suspended in midair, limiting myself to touching her arms. She didn’t move. “You can’t ask me to stay away from you,” I whispered into her hair, closing my eyes.

  She turned and stroked the cut on my face. “Win for me,” she said, probing my soul.

  Everything was about to be decided out there in that arena. Our fate would change forever if I lost. All we’d fought for was at stake. Gemma didn’t know my opponent was planning to kill me. I might die, but I was prepared to do so for her.

  “Kaahmì,” I replied. As you wish.

  An irresistible smile appeared on her lips. I stroked them with my thumb and she moved them close to mine, igniting my desire. Drawing her against me tenderly, I demanded another kiss. My tongue touched hers and I no longer knew who I was. Gemma bit her lip and I sucked it, hungry for more of her vital essence. All I needed was one drop . . . She gave it to me, making my head spin and my body turn to flames, burning with desire.

  Gemma rested her hands on my chest and her fingers traced the scars for a moment. Then she pulled her lips from mine, leaving me breathless. She looked at me and her voice enveloped me: “I wanted to give you another taste. Do not disappoint me.”

  She turned her back on me and walked out, leaving me in a daze. I tried to control my breathing as the blood burned inside me, igniting all my senses, but there wasn’t time. The doors opened again and guards burst into the room. To my surprise I recognized one of them. It was Faustian. What was he doing there?

  As he passed he bumped my shoulder and slipped something into my hand. I closed my fist, looked away and straightened up. The doors reopened and the spectators cheered in anticipation. Keeping my arm at my side, I opened my palm a crack to see what Faustian had given me. My eyes bulged. It was Absolon’s ring—the Devil’s Claw. I stared at Zakharìa at the opposite end of the arena and smiled. Now it was a fair fight.

  The Empress rose to announce the beginning of the challenge but I didn’t take my eyes off him. “Fight, my Gladiators, and may the more valiant of you win. Forge your glory!”

  The guards escorted us to the center of the Circle and I found myself face to face with my adversary. I’d never seen the Empress’s Champion take part in the Games; it was certainly a rare occurrence. The panthers were already in their positions, tensely prowling back and forth, patrolling their assigned areas. I glanced at Anya and touched the ring I’d hidden in my pocket. She nodded slightly. The duel was the final challenge, and only one of us would come out of it victorious.

  I looked Zakharìa straight in the eye as the crowd held its breath. “It honors me to know that Sophìa had to inconvenience her Champion in order to defeat me.” He stared at me in silence. We were both on guard, a gladius gripped in our fists, as the first round required. “What a shame,” I continued. “I was hoping we could get acquainted before I hacked you to bits.”

  My opponent gritted his teeth and charged, knocking me on the shoulder so hard I fell right next to the edge of the Circle. The stands exulted while, with a ferocious roar, a panther bared its poisoned fangs and raised its paw toward me. If it wounded me I would lose consciousness and Sophìa would win the tournament. I would, however, remain alive. Only the Empress’s venom could send a Subterranean to oblivion, and Zakharìa’s body was full of it.

  I stood up and faced him again. “I get it, you don’t care for introductions,” I said with a challenging smile. “Shyness is a terrible thing, you know? Your mistress should let you get out more often.”

  The mention of Sophìa made him react. He charged again, but this time I was more prepared and dodged his attack. I leapt onto him from behind, toppling him backwards, and dragged him toward the Witches. The crowd gave a start of surprise.

  I turned to stare at Sophìa on her platform. She had a victorious expression on her face, but I was going to wipe it off. All the spectators and even the Witches thought the Opalion’s final battle was being waged. She and I knew the truth: there was much more at stake. The real prize was Gemma, and Sophìa and I were the ones fighting for it.

  Zakharìa got to his feet and I shifted my attention back to him. Every shred of humor in me had vanished. I had to defeat him before he defeated me. This time I was the first to attack. He took the blow and counterattacked. He was the most skilled opponent I’d ever fought, but I knew how to defend myself. The second I shoved him to the ground the horn signaled the end of the first round.

  I continued to hold him down until the Soldiers pulled me off him. They handed us two long metal-tipped staffs as the ground shook beneath our feet. The pavement crumbled and a gaping chasm opened up all around us. We found ourselves on a pillar of earth with smaller ones nearby. Around those, empty space. The horn blew once more, marking the start of the second round of the duel.

  All my senses alert, I searched my opponent for a weak spot and launched my attack. I was good with a staff—I’d trained long and hard using them with my brothers—but my opponent was the Empress’s worthy Champion and skilled at expert maneuvers. I leapt onto a nearby column and he followed suit, jumping onto the one beside it. Our staffs collided, their pointed tips threatening first me, then him. My muscles strained from the effort, but Gemma’s blood was an inexhaustible source of energy. A mere glance at her set it on fire, making me fight with new vigor.

  He dodged my lunge and began to run, jumping from one pillar to the next. I chased him until he reached the edge, one step away from the panthers. Turning just in time to see me leap onto his column with my weapon pointed at him, he parried my blow but lost his balance and fell. I pounced on him and we rolled across the ground until he managed to overpower me, pinning me down and pressing the shaft of his staff against my throat. I tried to shove him away but he was too strong. Zakharìa pushed me forward and I found myself with my head dangling over the void. The crowd cheered for the Empress’s Champion. I looked him in the eyes, which for the first time sparkled with the anticipation of victory. I couldn’t accept it. Driven by desperation, I struck him with all my might and swiftly broke loose. He spun around but then froze, disconcerted—another sharp point was now pressed against his throat: the Devil’s Claw. Just then the horn blew, decreeing the end of the round. I hadn’t defeated him, but at least now he too knew it was a fair fight.

  I turned to Sophìa with a defiant glare as the abyss sealed up. She’d risen in alarm. Still, there was nothing she could do to stop me. I picked up the sword that had appeared on the ground, my eyes locked onto Zakharìa’s. “You are shrewd,” he said, speaking for the first time. “Now I see why the Empress feels you are a threat.”

  “You’d better focus on your own problems, because I intend to give you lots of them,” I shot back, attempting a lunge. He parried, giving rise to the most ferocious of duels.

  A layer of water formed beneath our feet, soon turning to muck. There was no rule limiting the number of rounds—they could be infinite, as could the scenarios Sophìa conjured up for the duels. They would continue until one of the two contenders was defeated. However, now that I’d revealed my secret weapon to Zakharìa, he and I knew this round would be the last one. It was either him or me.

  Our swords sang with each increasingly brutal blow. “You’re good with a sword, I’ll give you that,” I told him as he warded off my attack by thrusting his sword against mine. The force was so great it sent me staggering back into the mud, dangerously close to the edge. A panther snarled, prepared to pounce. Seizing his chance, Zakharìa disarmed me and kicked me hard, sending me to my knees.

  The spectators burst out in a deafening roar. They too realized the end was near. I raised my eyes and through my mud-splattered hair watched the Damned going into raptures. “What, no one’s rooting for me?” I joked before turning back to look at my opponent.

  He ran his sharp blade across his chest, making a long incision, and then pointed it—now edged with his poisoned blood—at my throat. A hush fell over the crowd as I stared him straight in the eye. I looked at Gemma, who had risen from her seat to witness my execution.

  In the silence, a single voice rose. “I’m rooting for you.”

  Drake. I whipped my head up as a panther pounced on Zakharìa, tearing him off of me. In seconds, Ginevra’s army swarmed into the arena, attacking everyone and everything. I raised my eyes to Sophìa, whose expression was one of utter shock, and this time I was the one to smile at her.

  The Games were over. The war had begun.

  THE WHISPER OF DEATH

  The panthers rushed to attack, ripping a group of the rebel Damned to shreds. In seconds the arena had turned into a battlefield on which chaos had exploded. Drake ran toward me but darted to the side at the last second to knock down one of the Witches’ Soldiers. He reached me as a new group surrounded us.

  “You took your sweet time,” I joked, leaning my back against his.

  “You know Ginevra. It takes her ages to get ready,” he said. Together we attacked. “I have to admit”—he did a backflip, landed behind an enemy, and slashed his throat—“you put on a good show.”

  “I was practically phoning it in.” I parried a lunge and rammed the Claw into my adversary’s throat, then spun around and did the same with a Subterranean who was closing in on Drake. Both the Soul and the Subterranean exploded in a cloud of ash. Drake and I gave each other a bear hug. “I missed you, bro,” I said.