Another warrior fell to the frozen ground, two daggers lodged deep into his back. The Frecan queen stood over his body and scanned the crowd, searching for the next warrior who dared to challenge her in the tournament.

Kayden kept her head down, pulling her scarf over her nose. She couldn't risk Mother recognizing her. Not yet.

"Oh goddesses." Eka tore her gaze from the bystanders dragging the warrior's body from the ring and looked at Kayden. "You're going to die today. You're going to get yourself—"

"Eka," she interrupted with the faintest smile. She clasped the girl's hands in hers. "I'm going to be okay."

"No, you're not. You're going to get yourself killed. Of all days, why did you finally decide tonight is the best time to develop a death wish?"

"I do not have a death wish."

"Look around you."

Kayden had to admit that the longer she watched the tournament, the more she believed Eka's words, but she couldn't afford to doubt herself. She'd spent years stuck in the same place, her fear like snow too deep to travel through, and now she'd finally found the courage to unbury herself. She refused to waste it.

"Unlike you, I have a few tricks up my sleeve," Kayden said.

"Lior Branimir is the queen."

"Is that so?"

Eka shot her a glare. "Nobody has ever defeated her in battle, and you expect to just waltz in there and win? Queen Lior will gut you in seconds."

Kayden glanced at Eka, who wasn't wrong. Mother would likely love to gut her the moment she recognized her, but she'd take her chances.

"Have you ever held a sword before?" Eka asked.

"Do wooden ones count?"

Eka looked like she wanted to gut her now. "When you die, I'm leaving you for the wolves."

Kayden grinned. "I hope you find joy in that."

"Look, if you're doing this for the silver, we can figure something out. Anything other than this." Eka gestured toward the ring, where another warrior surrendered to the queen. The warrior's face glistened with sweat despite the frigid cold, and her torn tunic revealed the silver tattoos covering her body—the same tattoos every Frecan citizen wore. These markings were simpler than the intricate designs of Malakai's and Mother's that defined them as royalty.

In the center of the ring, Mother stood strong and proud. Her clothing remained unscathed except for the blood that wasn't hers. Kayden's eyes narrowed as her mother wiped her blade clean. It was always someone else's blood that stained the frost-covered ground, but tonight, the queen's daughter planned to return the favor. Mother had trained Kayden herself for years and without mercy.

Kayden hoped Mother would regret it.

"You wouldn't understand, Eka." She averted her gaze from Mother and dug the tip of her boot into the ground. "It's not silver I need."

"Then help me understand. I'd rather poison myself in the sea than lose my best friend tonight."

There was no way Kayden could explain to Eka the letter that had appeared before her on the mountainside. It was too risky, and if Mother or Malakai discovered Eka knew more than she should, the girl would be the next body burned, her ashes scattered to the wind. Kayden saw the concern in Eka's green eyes and another emotion that lingered like a fleck of gold beneath a stream. She caught glimpses of it, and all she had to do was reach out...

But she couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever. White-blonde hair blew across Eka's face, and Kayden tucked the stray strands behind her ear. Her fingertips lingered, torn between pulling Eka closer and letting her go.

Kayden swallowed hard. "You won't need the wolves."

Before Eka could protest, Kayden slipped through the crowd.

Conversations and shouts of encouragement, sharpening of weapons, clinking chains, and prayers to Thema—goddess of battle—replaced the fading sound of Eka calling after her. Kayden glimpsed the bodies piled on the opposite edge of the crowd. Unbeknown to everyone but her, Mother also used the tournament as a strategic way to dispose of warriors suspected of disloyalty and treason. It was too easy to make it appear like an accident. Above the corpses hung a dark red flag flapping in the wind, its edges frayed. Its embroidered silver lynx glinted in the firelight.

Kayden wove through the crowd, ducking under the arm of a warrior when her scarf slipped. She adjusted it, checking whether anyone had seen her face. People in Freca knew her by her false identity, Nila Stone.

Nobody would expect her to be royalty. She and Alaric had both been declared dead to the public early on by Mother due to their rare magic. Despite this, Kayden had to keep both of her identities hidden tonight if she wanted freedom.

That was, unless Malakai got in the way.

He lurked on the outskirts of the ring wearing furs sleek and dark as his hair, his eyes as deadly as the black stones beneath the sea. He tucked his hands behind his back, posture regal, a shadow standing guard.

When he caught her watching, she ducked back into the crowd. From her pocket, she removed a small pouch of Tau's Cloak. Named after the god of strength, the plant could be ground into a powder and consumed to improve temporary alertness and strength. She raised the pouch to her lips, but a hand clasped around her wrist.

Her brother's black eye makeup glittered in the torchlight as he glared down on her.

Kayden gulped.

"Tau's Cloak is banned from the tournament, as are you." Malakai yanked the pouch from her hand, dumping the contents on the ground. "Care to explain yourself?"

She looked past his shoulder at the ring she so desperately needed to be in. If she didn't set foot in it, she'd never have a chance to leave for Leodia.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"No."

"You have the foolishness to defy orders, yet you can't even look me in the eye," Malakai scoffed. "I'm not sure which I dislike more."

"Please." Her voice sounded small and pathetic, even to her own ears. "I need this tournament."

"Branimirs do not beg. Careful, or you'll lose my respect, and that respect is the only thing allowing you to compete."

"You're not going to stop me?"

"As long as you don't cheat using Tau's Cloak. I've seen you fight, and you'll be successful without it." Malakai grabbed a mug of ale as a server passed by. "Word of advice: do not fail. Branimirs are not known for their mercy."

He raised the ale to his black-stained lips, but she swatted it out of his hands. "Don't! It has slip-of-mind in it."

"What?"

She glanced at her boots. "I did it before the tournament."

"Using one of Mother's oldest tricks?"

"I guess so."

Malakai squeezed her shoulder. "Clever."

Together, they watched the current match draw to an end.

Then he nudged Kayden forward. "Remember: indecision is death."

She stumbled over her own boots. How dare he bring that up right before a battle? He knew very well what those words meant—those damned words she'd learned to hate so much. Her nails dug painfully into the scars on her palms.

Maybe he wanted her to fail after all.

She took a deep breath, then stepped into the ring of ice and stone. Mother's gaze clashed with hers like steel on steel as recognition set in. Kayden fought her hardest not to turn away like she usually would and raised her chin instead, donning her practiced blank expression.

Showing fear meant she had something to lose, and the queen couldn't know that.

Around her, warriors cheered, ready for another fight. Their voices bellowed across the valleys, and the ones who had already downed a few mugs of ale were even louder.

It wasn't what she was used to—all the noise. During missions, she eliminated targets as quietly as possible, away from prying eyes. Now, her focus broke and her hands began to sweat.

Mother struck, their swords ringing out.

Then Kayden misstepped and careened to the side. Pain flared across her torso. She pressed her hand to her stomach, and blood spilled between her fingers. She met all of Mother's strikes after that, sneaking in a few counterattacks. Despite her attempts, her sword broke free from her grasp as Mother went back on the offensive. The blade clattered on the ground.

Mother smashed the hilt of her weapon into Kayden's cheek.

Black spots flashed across her vision. She stepped back, securing the scarf over her face, but not before Mother's foot slammed into her stomach.

Kayden's elbows skidded against the ring, her tunic ripping.

The shouts around them grew louder, the younger generation cheering. The older warriors stood silent and passive. Kayden wouldn't have been surprised if some of them had attended just to try and kill their queen.

Gritting her teeth, Kayden moved into a crouch and unsheathed two daggers from her boots. She crossed her blades, using all of her strength to stop Mother's sword from cutting into her.

"End this," Mother hissed.

The sword grazed Kayden's face.

Her legs burned as she tried to push against Mother, but she couldn't seem to stand. Her arms trembled, her breaths fast and shallow.

"You'll have to kill me first." Sweat dripped into Kayden's eyes. Blood pounded in her ears.

She must win. There was no other option.

Failure meant she'd remain trapped in Freca, and she couldn't have that.

Desperation to find Alaric mounted in her chest. The desperation ached as badly as it had when she had run toward her best friend Jesse, trying to heal him using magic, but he'd been beyond saving.

Alaric was the only person who understood the pain she'd felt that day. Each month that passed without him was what she imagined the Below to be like, isolated and full of despair. She couldn't fail to save Alaric too.

Kayden forced Mother back and grabbed her sword from the ground.

Then she rose.

The battle continued, and when she left a small gash on Mother's side, the crowd stopped cheering. Murmurs broke out.

Mother steadied herself, then moved again with practiced precision. The next time their blades met in a cross, Kayden disarmed her and claimed the sword as her own.

Everyone around them fell quiet.

Mother crouched low, avoiding a fatal blow and unsheathing two long daggers from her boots. She managed to knock one of Kayden's swords to the edge of the ring. In that split second, Mother threw her dagger.

Kayden dove away, but not quickly enough. She hissed as she yanked the knife from her thigh. Drawing back her arm, she returned the knife in the same manner with which Mother had so kindly given it to her.

The blade found home in Mother's torso.

Like paint splattered on canvas, blood seeped into the queen's tunic. Mother paled but refused to cry out. She pulled the dagger free and returned to a fighting stance.

Kayden's injured leg felt stronger with each passing moment. Most warriors would've viewed a healing power as a gift—if they knew that type of magic existed. They would have imagined fighting battles not having to worry about injuries slowing them down.

But it was a curse.

It was the reason she was forced to keep her identity as the princess a secret, because her mother saw her as a weapon, not royalty. She was merely a pawn to ensure the queen stayed in power, but now her weapon had turned on her. Kayden saw the damage she had caused as the eyes of the older generations sparked with hope.

Kayden needed to end the battle soon to quell what she'd started. Mother disarmed her of the other sword, but Kayden smashed her elbow into her face.

The crowd gasped as their queen fell. She tried to stand, but Kayden kicked at her wounded midsection.

Mother collapsed.

Kayden stood over her, thinking she'd finally ended it. In fact, she'd already begun scanning the crowd for anyone who dared to creep into the ring and harm their queen. If anyone made a move, she wouldn't hesitate.

Then Mother plunged her dagger into Kayden's foot.

Kayden cried out, following her instinct to pull away, but doing so only created a bigger gash as Mother deepened the dagger's hold.

Mother removed the blade and tried to stand.

Kayden lunged, pinning her to the floor and pressing a dagger to her throat. It nicked her skin.

"Are you done?" Kayden said, trying to catch her breath.

Mother had murder in her eyes and didn't respond.

"I'm the only one qualified to carry out the mission," Kayden said. "You know that. Now get up."

Mother nodded, pursing her lips.

As Kayden helped her to her feet, she added, "This was my mess, but it will be cleaned up properly."

Kayden gestured for Malakai and said to him in a low voice, "Stay here and help the riperas prepare the bodies for ascension. Keep an eye on the crowd while you're at it. Make sure they drink plenty of ale. I'll get the queen to safety."

He gave her a hard stare before disappearing through the crowd.

Kayden wished she hadn't needed to use slip-of-mind tonight, but there was no avoiding it. During the Death Year, when Freca had broken alliances and Mother had refused to surrender, many Frecans had been slaughtered, leaving droves of children without parents.

It was no secret that the Frecan people who remembered the Death Year despised their queen. Her once loyal followers poisoned her image behind her back, spreading dissent. It had been Kayden's job to stop these whisperings, and it was her job to ensure nobody recalled what happened tonight.

She sheathed her knife. Her foot no longer bled, but with her will to fight draining away and her healing magic closing her newest wounds, exhaustion set in. Thankfully, her clothes were stained with so much red that nobody would be able to tell her injuries had miraculously healed.

The crowd fidgeted as they watched their queen. Mother donned her impassive mask, but when she grabbed Kayden's hand, her grip was tight enough to nearly break bones.

Mother raised their entwined hands above their heads. "May I present to you, the winner of the tournament."

After a long, stunned silence, the crowd started to cheer. Ale sloshed in their mugs and fists punched the air. Kayden recognized that spark strengthening among the people, and she knew she had to act fast. Without waiting for the guards, she ushered Mother toward the road leading down to the castle.

At the edge of the crowd, she spotted Eka amid the celebration. A grin started to form on Kayden's lips, but it faltered as Eka stared back with narrowed eyes, taking a deep swig of ale.

Reality seeped in like water on a beaten ship, and she couldn't breathe as the waves rose over her.

Going to Leodia meant leaving the girl behind.