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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Water lapped up to my collarbone as everybody came to say their goodbyes.
Hybrids crowded around the bed in my hotel room while Jerome slouched in the ensuite's bathtub, passed out cold. I sensed, through Isaac's mind, that somebody had turned on the tap to wake him, but Jerome only stirred briefly before his head slumped against the shell-shaped soap holder. Bloody kisses trailed up his neck, maroon smeared with gold lipstick.
Once, curiosity might have driven me to investigate what led him to this state. Now I only felt a vague impression of exhaustion, without a body to ground itself in.
My head was cradled in Isaac's lap. I wished I could feel the fingers pulling through my hair, untangling the snarls from our recent battle. I knew from the bridge between our minds that Isaac's nails scraped gently through the blood caked to my scalp, in time with a bittersweet melody he sung under his breath, something I'd heard him play late at night, from time to time.
"New song?" Mason asked softly, unsure of how to help his friend. If it was better to distract him or leave him to grieve.
"Her song," Isaac whispered, cradling my jaw with a care that belied the head-wrenching strength of his arms. "I never got a chance to play it for her."
But he had. I'd been listening. Every night. To every word.
I wished I could find the strength to tell him how much I appreciated it: all that he'd done for me over the past months and more. When our thoughts intertwined as they were wont to do of late, it was easy to feel like we'd known each other for years.
I was grateful that I could still hear the song of his heart, though mine was too weak for him to make out. I was a helpless bystander to my own funeral, forced to watch and feel nothing as others testified to my worth.
Avah and Jedda pressed into the front row. The little girl couldn't stop crying as she grabbed my hand.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the Councilwoman," Jedda said, every syllable wobbling precariously. "I was worried you wouldn't have a reason to stay anymore."
Ethan pushed in beside her. "Thank you for saving me," he whispered, as the water closed over my neck. I was hanging onto the shore by a single arm now, not entirely sure why I bothered in the first place. "I don't think I would have lasted much longer in that boat shed."
Mason chimed in next. "I see you now. The real you. I wish I hadn't been so blind before."
Isaac's song faltered as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, water glistening on his cheeks. Salt for all the tears he has yet to shed. "It should have been me."
You are all stronger than you think. Forming the thought was a laborious affair, but worth the two small gasps that followed — one from Isaac, who was apparently still tuned into my thoughts, and one from Ethan, who could hear them without even trying.
