Drothiker

40.

Faolin and the others had entered Olkfield an hour ago.

She'd pushed her mejest to limits, speeding whatever vehicles they traveled in, sapping it completely—she'd need no less than three days of sleep to refill it.

They sat in a carriage, trudging through the empty market so early at dawn, heading straight to the duel arena. It was still dark, but the city was alive thanks to the Pensnial Duel. They'd earwigged people beaming and whispering it was taking place in half-an-hour in an arena twenty minutes from here.

They'd filched a few clothes from this market, slid out of slave attires.

Faolin had taken whatever she could find, though Levsenn had taken her time, elected the finest dress. They'd even stolen jedzem from a few pockets, to pay the carriage rider.

At least those skills still persisted with her—art of pickpocketing secretly. Aazem wasn't alive to train her for that too.

Her throat hadn't loosened, burning in her eyes was constant.

She ignored them, as she had been for past hours. If she acknowledged this hurt, this massacre inside her, she might never be able to guide herself back from this dark poison dwelling within her, threatening to slay her.

Could you die from agony in soul? Could exhaustion gnaw at your spirit to the point of emptying?

"I can make explosives," Undesin offered hopefully.

They'd found the boy careening outside the cave, attempting to outrun the cracks that should have swallowed Nofstin by now. Bleeding and panting and coated in dirt as they all had been.

Were those rifts headed here now?

He claimed he'd been an orphan before he was fetched to the fortress to train and get into military. They couldn't leave him alone—judging by his scrawny posture, he hadn't had enough training to survive those devouring fissures alone.

Levsenn asked beside Faolin, "What happens when we get inside? We will not make it there before the duel."

Faolin kept her eyes on the window. "Then we help her win it."

From the corner of her eye, she caught Vur bristling—he hadn't expected her to reply, to speak at all.

She moved her gaze to him. "Can you do it?"

He nodded.

"Good, then. Fooling the ripper wouldn't be easy."

He ran a hand through his golden hair, a ghost of that cocky smile playing at his lips. "Then it's a good thing I've had too much practice with my mejest lately."

Faolin only nodded and looked out the window.

By the time they reached the arena, sky had bloomed the darkest blue, oranges outspreading at the horizon.

They paid jedzem for the ride. As soon as the carriage vanished from their sight, Vur concealed everyone beneath his mejest.

Careful to not touch the crowd teeming outside the gate and reveal their guise, they strolled beside the line marching towards the gate—towards the two guards flanking it and reviewing everyone with their mejest.

As they went, Faolin caught what the guards were doing.

A bracelet was being clamped around the audience's wrists before permitting them in. It didn't take long for Faolin to comprehend it was no steel.