sight of him, broken, stoked the agony in her heart. The agony that Madoc had taken away.
The real reason she hadn’t spoken of what had happened with Madoc was that she was grateful to him. If he was involved in the lies and danger surrounding Ignitus’s weakness, she knew that whatever he had done to alleviate her pain had likely been a trick to distract her, ease her into trusting him. But a small, bruised part of her didn’t care.
He had let her breathe again.
She would find out what Madoc’s role in all this was—and then she would tell Tor, if she needed to.
“No more losses,” Ash assured Tor, because she needed to tell herself too.
No more losses. No more guilt. She had caused this war—she would make sure everyone else she loved came through it alive.
“Char Nikau,” Spark said, pulling the focus back to the memorial. “Rook and Lynx Akela.”
“Find your warmth,” they said in unison, and snuffed the candle flames into darkness.
The first round of fights ended four days after the welcoming ceremony, once all Ignitus’s champions had arrived and gotten a chance to fight. To mark the end of the initial matches as well as the first week of the war, Geoxus held a ball on one of his palace’s outdoor terraces.
A long sheet of white and gray marble unfolded from towering doors, with the Nien River and the whole of Crixion spread out three stories below. Columns lined the area despite the lack of a roof, and in the fading sunlight, it took Ash a beat to realize that each column was a mosaic of gladiators. All Deimans—no, actually, that one off to the right was clearly a Kulan, a white flame in his outstretched hand as a Deiman gladiator planted a sandaled foot on his chest in victory.
Geoxus was not subtle. Then again, the gods rarely were.
The Kulan guards who had escorted Tor and Ash sank into the shadows by the door. Phosphorescent stones and mirrors lit the terrace as the sun set. Musicians warmed up in the corner, flutes shrieking and strings plucking, and a banquet table sat opposite them, piled with fragrant smoked pork, dried dates, peeled citrus fruits, and casks of wine. The center of the terrace floor was bare, clearly for dancing later on. For now, the other guests picked at the banquet, everyone wearing opulent togas and gilded gowns, making it difficult to guess who was a fighter and who was not. Ash assumed some of these people had to be the remaining Deiman champions, or other members of Deiman society.
She didn’t see Madoc yet.
That realization, and the corresponding pull of disappointment, itched at Ash’s mind. She told herself that she only cared whether he was here or not because of the questions she planned to ask him. She had seen the way he’d looked at her during their initial fight, and after Rook’s death. She could use that. Fluster him. Lower his defenses.
And milk out the truth about his energeia.
“Remember the plan,” Tor whispered to her. He took her arm, the two of them making a slow, circuitous route around the perimeter of the terrace.
Ash bowed her head toward him. They had plotted their own next step just that morning. “We link Rook’s attack to Stavos’s disappearance and Char being poisoned, and we push Ignitus for more information.”
“Subtly,” Tor prodded.
Ash lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’ll be subtle?”
“You like to test the limits. But now is not the time for recklessness.”
Impossibly, Ash felt herself smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Tor gave her a surprised grin, rippling the sunburst painted on his cheek. Ignitus had left explicit instructions regarding their dress for this party. Tor wore blue. The fabric started pale where it hung off one shoulder and bunched at the opposite hip before fading into a long skirt of deepest navy around his feet. Silver sunbursts covered his bare skin, and Taro had spent the better part of the day weaving silver thread into his thick black hair. He looked like one of Ignitus’s brightest flames, a streak of star fire or the mesmerizing core at the center of every fire.
“It’s good to see you smile,” Tor said. “And I must say, Char would be both brokenhearted and proud to see how grown-up you look.”
Ash’s face stilled. Self-consciously, she smoothed her skirt.
Ignitus had requested that she wear red. This gown was similar to the dancing costume she wore when she played the fire god. The skirt hung low