her nerves dissolved for the moment. She looked around—everyone was already inside the arena watching the dancers. No one to see their stolen kiss.
She’d intended only a peck on the cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute and their lips met. It would be so easy to shut out the rest of the world, the beating of the drums, the plucking of strings, the pounding of feet against the ground. But she knew they had to keep it short and pulled away before she fell under. Even still, she was left breathless, blinking up into his slow smile.
“Now there is no way I can lose. After the match, I need to talk to you about something.”
And with that mysterious statement, he was off, jogging into the arena to prepare. Leaving her wide-eyed with a heart that had already missed several beats.
She turned around, intending to enter through another passageway and find a seat. No one was paying attention to her, but for prudence’s sake it shouldn’t look like they arrived at the same time. But her plans were dashed when she discovered Glister standing behind her.
A scowl marred the woman’s beauty. Rage fizzed from her like steam. Her icy gaze shifted from Mooriah to the crowd beyond, where Ember had gone.
“You harlot,” she spat through gritted teeth. Then she grabbed Mooriah’s arm and, with her free hand, stabbed her with something small and sharp, muttering the words of a spell that made Mooriah’s bones feel like they were melting. She could not resist as Glister dragged her off and away from the arena.
“You think a dalliance with him will get you anywhere?” Glister seethed. “The next chieftain will be mine. I will be Lady of the Clan.”
Mooriah’s mouth would not even work to protest, her tongue was heavy inside her mouth. The music from the dancers pealed and the drumbeats thrummed underfoot—they had not traveled far—when Glister stopped in an alcove cut into the stone. With her foot, she nudged at something embedded in the ground. The covering for an old maintainer’s hatch. The clay lid was thick and round and protected the hatches that the maintainers used to service the plumbing lines and renew the firerocks.
Mooriah had never before been inside the warren of passageways used by the diminutive men and women who served the clan in that way. But now, Glister shifted the covering aside with her foot and then shoved Mooriah into the darkened pit.
She felt no pain when she landed, her body was still boneless and unresponsive to her commands. The shaft was as about three times her height and must have outlets, but she couldn’t control her body yet to investigate. She’d landed on her back and looked up at Glister replacing the cover and leaving her in darkness before disappearing.
A few minutes later, the paralyzing spell wore off and Mooriah climbed to her feet.
“Glister! Glister! Help!”
The music from the dancers still overwhelmed all other sounds. Soon the crowd would be roaring, all keyed up for the brawl. No one could hear her. And she would not be there to protect Ember.
She slammed her hand against the rock wall and screamed in frustration. But there was no one to hear her cries.
Ember wiped the sweat from his brow, never once turning from his brother’s glare. Taking his eyes off his opponent would be folly. Especially when that opponent was as ruthless as Rumble.
The two were well matched in height and weight, but Rumble had one advantage—sheer meanness. He also had access to a well of ferocious fury that Ember had never been able to tap into, and it made him brutal.
The last days spent practicing blood magery instead of training did Ember no favors either, though he’d been disciplined with his exercises for two decades—a few days here or there should make little difference.
Still, the blow Rumble had just landed on Ember’s jaw made his teeth rattle. He prodded one with his tongue to see if it was loose and tasted blood. He swallowed it down, imagining his stomach lined with stone. He heard Mooriah’s calming words in his mind, which helped him seal away his disgust.
He longed to find her location in the crowd but was almost glad he hadn’t yet—he’d want to watch her, and that was a distraction he could not afford.
The chime signaling the end of the first round sounded, and he retreated to the sidelines to swish his mouth with water. He took the time then to