"My mind’s made up," Van Lagos said.

  Finnick and Lira were on his heels, begging him to reconsider.

  He stopped in front of me, his mouth opening and closing. He was grasping for words but could only find air. After a moment of tense silence, he spoke.

  “You’re incredible. Do you know that?”

  I clenched my jaw. What should I say? Thank you?!

  “Now you have trouble speaking. What’s wrong, Jacob? Cat got your tongue?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

  “No! No, you did mean to...”

  He narrowed his eyes, seeing something in the expression on my face.

  “You’re a liar. You lie to everyone… but most of all, you lie to yourself.”

  He shivered.

  “I must leave before I catch your sickness.”

  He cut a line to the exit, ignoring everyone and everything except for the front doors. He stopped mid-step in front of Dugan, turning to look down at the shorter man.

  "Dugan Samaran, your protection is rescinded. Your life and your dignity are, once again, yours to protect."

  Dugan’s shoulders slumped. He gave Van Lagos a curt nod as the Dahlgeshi turned and continued his march.

  Finnick glowered at us before catching up with his brother. The other cartel members followed, fear and confusion masking their faces in a delicate balance. Only Lira stayed in the Pit. She looked resigned, her long braid whipping back and forth with each disbelieving shake of her head.

  With the Lagos cartel gone, the meeting was over. The former Compact members left the platform. The audience disbursed, scurrying out the doors or stopping by the bar to drink away their thinly veiled fears.

  We moved to the stairs for privacy. It didn’t last. Reed approached us with Lira trailing behind her. She spoke to the Inquisitor in frantic whispers, dodging the spiked club swaying on Reed’s shoulder.

  “Then you’ll have to do better,” Reed said.

  She waved away Lira as she got into our earshot. Lira recoiled at the dismissing hand, turning to stare at us like a startled deer before dashing away.

  What was that about?

  "Jacob…”

  I glanced from Lira’s back to the Inquisitor. Reed was at ease, one hand over the other, weighing down the handle of the club balanced on her shoulder.

  “I'll need you at full strength tomorrow—all of you."

  She turned to Castille.

  "Make sure he stays out of more fights until then."

  The gruff woman crossed her arms.

  "I'm not his mother."

  “No, you’re more of a sister, aren’t you? How is your younger brother?”

  Castille’s face turned an angry shade of red. I jumped in before the Northerner did something she would regret.

  "Do you know what would keep me out of fights, Reed? If you didn’t blow our cover."

  "The time for hiding is over, Jacob."

  She glanced at Isla.

  "In the end, everything comes to light. It’s best to control when and how."

  “You took that control away from us!”

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  She cocked her head.

  “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  I opened and closed my mouth. Arguing with Sanctifiers was pointless.

  "Um… About tomorrow… Can tell us your plan of attack? Maybe we can help?" Isla asked.

  "Especially when we're down two mages," Castille said, a bitter edge slipping into her voice.

  "And have my plans leaked?"

  Reed smiled.

  "No. You'll have to wait like the others."

  “Everything comes to light.”

  She grinned.

  “Good, you’re learning. I'll leave you to your preparations. Rest well.”

  Reed turned on her heels, angling the length of iron on her shoulder up to avoid clubbing us in the head. She took two steps to the door and stopped, looking over her left shoulder.

  “Castille...”

  “What?”

  “He’s alive.”

  The colour drained from the Northern woman’s face. She was speechless as we watched Reed and her guards file out of the Pit.

  “That woman…”

  I knew what she meant.

  "Isla?"

  "Yeah?"

  "What type of Landbound ability does Reed have?"

  "Oh, that! I’m pretty sure it's Hearth Magic. It’s mainly defensive, but the Special Inquisitor has found more creative ways to use it."

  “What type of land creates Hearth Magic?”

  “A loving home.”

  A loving home?

  Reed mentioned her mother and sister at the Lagos brothers’ party. Was that it? Was that where her power came from? The source of her strength.

  I frowned at the contradiction. At the fact, a person so cold and calculating could have a soft side.

  Reed embraced those she loved, yet she was strong. She was stronger than me! It didn't make any sense, but what did these days?

  Was she as strong as Sin?

  I shook my head.

  No…

  "That’s impossible."

  "What's impossible?" Isla asked.

  "Oh! Uh, nothing. So… What are we going to do for the rest of the day?"

  Castille huffed.

  "The Inquisitor is right. We should eat our fill and pack it in early. Tomorrow is a big day.”

  Dugan nodded.

  "T-T-Thor should be awake now."

  "Good, we'll be needing that bed."

  Dugan blushed through the loose, brown curls of his beard.

  I sighed.

  Why couldn’t Castille make up her mind?

  Dugan and Cassandra were both fine matches. She should pick one instead of leading both of them on.

  I turned to Isla.

  "Want to do some dagger drills?"

  Her face lit up.

  "Sure, they help me focus."

  "Is that what the kids call it now?" Castille asked.

  "Spirits below, what's gotten into you?"

  "You don't feel it, Jacob?! The danger in the air. The enemies scratching under our feet-"

  "OK, Mother Geslin."

  "It's the day before a big battle..."

  She looked from me to Isla.

  "This may be our last chance to live a little."

  Castille led Dugan up the stairs, leaving me and Isla alone.

  She looked up at Castille's back, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  "I don't get her sometimes. It's like she's speaking in riddles."

  "Yeah..."

  Did she always look this... beautiful?

  "Jacob…"

  I turned to the man approaching us from the bar.

  "Arwen, is something wrong?"

  "No, nothing like that; just wanted to loop you in. I sent runners to our people in the Residential Quarter. They’ll gather our troops and send them here in the morning. We're going to stay the night. There’s no sense in leaving and coming back."

  "We?"

  Floorboards creaked as Tom lumbered towards me. His face was a mask of purpling bruises covered by his mop of brown hair.

  I sank into my stance, my left hand on the handle of my cane.

  Tom grinned down at me, reopening the cuts on his lip.

  "You fight good, elf."

  He reached out a hand that could cup my head.

  I blinked at it before reaching out to shake the giant paw.

  "Is everything... intact?"

  "The family jewels ain't cracked if that's whatcha mean."

  He looked up to the second floor.

  "I'll get affirmation of that real soon."

  "Confirmation,” Arwen said.

  "You know what I mean!"

  He slapped me on the shoulder and bounded up the stairs. So that was the real reason they wanted to stay. I couldn't blame them. Castille was right. We could all be dead by tomorrow evening.

  I glanced at Isla.

  This was our last chance to live a little.

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