Piper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice.
*****
Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...
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Drip.
Something in me was thawing. It was a process of many years that was suddenly culminating all at once. Frigid glaciers of resolve and paranoia were sloughing off into the sea, sending up waves of insight and emotion that rocked me to my core.
Drip.
I smiled as I read the contents of Bjorn's letter, standing on the pavement by the inwards roller door, palming a silver key. When it was done I slipped them both into the envelope, wetting the glue on the seal with my tongue and pressing it closed.
Drip.
As it was on my way up, I paid a visit to Ethan's room — only to leave as quickly as I arrived when he and Maple leapt apart with guilty expressions.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. It was safe to assume his recovery was going well, then.
Drip.
I froze when Jedda hurtled into my legs, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my thigh. "You saved her," she choked, snotty tears streaking her cheeks, running over her top lip like a dribbling faucet. "You brought my sister back."
I glanced at the dark-skinned battle mage perched warily on the edge of the couch. She was the older one who'd urged caution after recognising me in the arena.
"Piper Cross," I introduced myself. Not the Deathstalker. Not anymore.
"Avah," she replied, offering me a warm smile. Just like that, she was a person in a battle-mage's clothes, no longer defined by her role.
I looked down at Jedda, patting her awkwardly on the back. "Easy, kid. You're cutting off my circulation."
"You brought him back, too," she sniffled, tightening her hold. "Thank you."
I could only assume she was talking about Isaac, whose shadowy profile played out across the fogged glass of Mason's studio. The door was shut, sealing in their words, but I could tell from their sharp gesticulation they were arguing.
"We have to watch out for him," Jedda went on. "He's stupid."
"No," I said gently. Isaac was roguishly witty, though I could see how she might come to the opposite conclusion. He was far too willing to throw away his life to preserve another's. "We watch out for people because we care about them. Isn't that why you've been keeping the identity of the corrupt Council member secret? Because you were looking out for your sister?"
Jedda nodded, her eyes turning wary.
"Now that she's safe, are you willing to share that information?" I asked. "It could help a lot of kids like you."
She shook her head, pulling away. I sighed, stepping back. It was worth a shot.
Something crashed on the other side of the studio door, a muffled crunch of glass and wood. Jedda watched me go to investigate with wide, concerned eyes, guilt warring need in her eyes as I turned the handle and slipped inside, letting the door whisper shut behind me.
