Page 35 of Warlord's Plaything

"What she is."

A flicker of something sharpens inside me.

He continues, tone amused. But not entirely.

"You see it, don’t you? The way she moves. The way she fights. It’s not just training."

He exhales.

"She’s something else."

I roll my shoulders."And?"

Kaelith smirks.

"And if you don’t figure it out soon, someone else will."

He leaves.

And I?

I grip my goblet so hard, the stone cracks.

He's right.

And I hate that it’s the first time I’m willing to admit it.

13

HIRA

Heat pulses through the night, the scent of sweat and damp stone curling through the tunnels beneath the arena.

I can feel the pit above us, the ghosts of old blood soaking into the sand, the muffled roars of the crowd still echoing from earlier fights.

They don’t know we’re down here.

They don’t know what’s coming.

But they will.

Soon.

"This doesn’t feel right."Dagen’s voice is low, wary.

He shifts beside me, his knife catching the torchlight as he scans the cavernous storage chamber where the stolen weapons are stashed.

Wooden crates stacked high, dark elf steel hidden inside like a secret waiting to be spilled.

Our first real victory.

And yet, the air feels wrong.

Too still.

Too quiet.

"We should move,"Sella mutters, her fingers brushing the hilt of her blade."Now."

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