“Why?” I screamed loud enough to shake Oren as the image disappeared. “Why would you make me watch that?” I held a hand up to my face, pulling it away to find that I’d been crying.

  “I’m sorry, lass. I forgot me’self how bad it’was. Tha’s something the schuilmaisters show tae everyone as wee lads when we’re still in learnin’.”

  “Is that…the emperor…will he be at the games?”

  “Nae, he has’na left sol in over a hundred years. Some member o’ house Aurelian will bear witness tae the games, but naeone like that. Its rumored Commodus is the only person alive with abilities like tha’.”

  “Commodus?”

  “Tha’s his name. Commodus Aurelian,” Oren stated, leaning further into his side of the couch. “There are others with the gift, like our mystery woman here,” he said, swiping his hand to pull her image back up, “but she’ll be nowhere near tha’ strong. Most wit’ the gift can play tricks, make ye’ see things that are’na really there…ye’ may be able tae take er’ in a fight if ye’ catch ‘er off guard, but it’s no’ worth the risk. Just stay clear.” I nodded, still a little shaken as Oren’s expression went blank for a moment. He smiled. “Tha’ was Corin, informing me the wager has been placed.”

  “On me, right?” I asked, unsure why I was seeking confirmation, other than my confidence being shaken by what I’d seen of the emperor.

  “Don’t worry, if the psychic lady tries to confuse you, I can always take control.” Belial said, his voice oddly comforting. I didn’t have time to respond as Oren cut in.

  “Of course, on you, who else? She also reminded me tae feed ye’.” He chuckled, his eyes glossing over for another moment before a new set of images appeared on the table, “anything here look appetizing?”

  I was about to answer that I wasn’t hungry when I suddenly felt like I was starving. My face twitched as I realized Belial had been suppressing my appetite again. Sighing and making a mental note to scold him for it later, I eyed the options, choosing the one that looked like it had the most food. About ten minutes later a knock came at the door.

  I jumped, nearly falling off the couch. That drew a laugh from Oren as he stood to let several of the arena staff inside the cavea, each of them carrying a silver tray. Oren directed them to place the food on the glass table before me, where all three of them removed a silver lid before bowing.

  “Thank…you?” I said awkwardly, when they didn’t immediately leave. Oren scowled, his gaze going glassy a third time.

  “There, tipped ye’. Now begone.”

  After they’d left, Oren sat back down across from me, pulling up the gallery of portraits and scratching his chin as I ate. “Be sure tae try some o’ tha’ one.” He said, pointing to a plate I didn’t remember ordering. I eyed it suspiciously, it looked like some kind of bread, only made of meat. Like someone had stuffed some part of an animal with something else.

  “Whas hat,” I asked, the roof of my mouth on fire as I spoke through a mouthful of potatoes.

  “Haggis.” Oren grinned, “came from me’ ancestors on sol.”

  “Ancestors? Like from the corporation?” I asked, swallowing.

  “Nae, from thousands o’ years ago. Me’ Ancestors came from a place called Scotland.”

  “Does everyone from there talk as strangely as you?” I asked, as I cut into the haggis, cautiously eying the substance on my fork. “What’s in this?”

  “Better if ye’ don’t know,” he said, making me even more suspicious. “An’ yes, they dae.”

  “Must you always speak with food in your mouth?”

  “Where ith sol anywhays?” I asked, ignoring Belial’s complaint.

  The forkful of whatever it was barely entered my mouth before the door whizzed open behind us. I jumped again, spewing food everywhere at the unexpected sound of children screaming and shouting. They clambered inside the room, shoving past each other as they ran at me, each of them holding little framed pictures of something.

  One of them had a hammer that looked suspiciously like mine slung over his shoulder, only it looked to be made of plastic. He hung back as the others crowded me, making whooshing noises while he swung it around. I looked to Oren for some explanation, but he only buried his face in his hands, muttering something about Lord Caelan.

  “Let me go first.” A little girl said, violently shoving another aside before holding out a framed portrait. I gaped at the picture she displayed. It was a moving image of me, repeating the moment I’d bashed Marakh’s head with his own hammer. She seemed insistent I do something with it.

  “I told you she can’t speak. Naturalists are slow.” A young boy said, shouldering past the girl to hold out his own moving picture of me.

  Did this little brat just call me dumb?

  “I believe he did. I suppose we’ll have to kick his ass.”

  What!? No.

  “Well do something. This…cacophony of shrieking toddlers is making it impossible to watch my soaps.” I shook my head at Belial’s suggestion that I beat a child as a familiar voice sounded over the commotion.

  “Now, now, form a neat line for Miss Aine,” Lord Caelan said. He wore a mischievous smile on his face as he made his way through the crowd to hand me a slim device of some kind. “Consider this repayment for your little outburst earlier.”

  “Outburst?” I stared, dumbstruck for a moment before I realized what he was talking about. “If you don’t explain what’s going on I’m going to smack you again. What is this.” I gestured at the crowd of children, counting at least twelve as Lord Caelan corralled them into a line, “and what do I do with this?” I asked, holding up the strange tool.

  “These are some of your fans!” Lord Caelan answered, “and that’s a pen. You write things with it.” He pretended to scribble something in the air.

  “Oh, how wonderful. Well don’t keep them waiting.”

  Wonderful? You think this is wonderful? I stared at the first child, then back to the device in my hand. What am I supposed to do with this? We didn’t exactly do much writing in the village, which was something Lord Caelan knew. My jaw tightened as he beamed a smile, no doubt enjoying this.

  “Ugh, it’s a pen. They want an autograph. Here let me show you.” My hands moved on their own, grabbing the small portrait and pressing the device against its glass to scribble something. I handed the portrait back to the child who squinted their eyes at what I assumed must be an autograph.

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  “What’s bel-al?” The boy asked, looking confused.

  You idiot. I took the portrait back, licking my finger to smudge away the scribble. Show me how to write my name.

  “Why? We both know I’m the star of this show.” I slapped my forehead, drawing a confused look from the first boy and giggling from several others in line.

  “Everything alright?” Lord Caelan asked.

  “Uh, yep.” I said, panicking internally.

  Belial. I can’t put your name.

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to figure it out, won't you?” He said, sounding wounded.

  Belial…

  “Do you not know how to write?” Asked the young girl from earlier as she shouldered past the first boy. “’A’ goes like this,” she drew the symbol in the air. I blinked, before following along with the scribbling device, “Then ‘I’ is a line like this.” She mimed the remaining two letters, nodding excitedly when I finally held the picture up.

  “Thank you!” The first boy said, smiling as I handed him the picture. The girl that helped me write my name offered hers next. She squealed in excitement when I handed it back to her, a gesture that filled my heart with a tiny bit of joy, until she spoke.

  “My father said you’ll probably die on the first floor, but I think you’ll at least make it to the third—”

  “Yes, yes, Miss Aine is very busy, so you’ll have to run along now,” Lord Caelan said to the girl. She looked indignant, her mouth drooping open as he ushered the next child toward me.

  “My father paid for a meet and greet!” She shouted.

  “Yes, and you have. Now please.” Lord Caelan said, offering a gracious bow. He gave me a sidelong glance as if to ask me to help somehow. I pretended not to see it, swallowing the urge to laugh.

  “It’s hardly been ten minutes!” She shot back, her tiny fists clenched at her sides. For a moment I thought she might hit him. “This is outrageous! I promise you’ll be hearing from my attorney!” She shouted, her pigtails bobbing as she stormed off.

  “Now that’s star power. You could learn a thing or two from her!” I snorted at Belial’s assessment, shaking my head as I wrote my name on the next child’s picture. Eying the rest of the line, a tiny part of me was curious just how much Lord Caelan was charging them for this ‘meet and greet’.

  “Well done,” Lord Caelan said, after I’d etched my name on the last of them. “I think you may be a natural.”

  “Kids watch the games?” I asked, in disbelief.

  “They do, unfortunately,” he answered, making a serious face. “I blame their penchant for violence on, well, I’m not sure what to blame it on, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to cash in...Ugh. Don’t look at me like that. We have to fund your upgrades somehow.”

  “You didn’t get enough money robbing your father?” I monotoned.

  “You know that’s all tied up in our wager—Ah, speaking of upgrades,” he said, as the door slid open again.

  I swiveled on the couch as Corin entered, carrying the silver case containing my hammer. “Can anyone just walk in?” I asked, surprised at the lack of precautions.

  “No, only people I’ve cleared can enter the room.” He answered, motioning for me to come see as Corin unclasped two latches on the side of the case. “Come try it out, it won't be long before you’ll need to use it.”

  “Did you make it lighter somehow?” I asked, arm outstretched as I held it straight out in front of me.

  “No.” Corin laughed, “if anything it should be heavier now than it was.”

  Have I really gotten that much stronger? Lord Caelan and Corin stepped back as I made a swinging motion. My eyes went wide when I halted the swing and the hammer pushed ahead on its own, the force of it pulling me along. I stumbled after it before looking up at Corin once I'd finally regained my balance. “What did you do to it?”

  “Nothing,” she laughed. “Just fixed the momentum transfer rail. When you swing, there’s a small weight that moves backwards on the rail, when it does it pushes the hammer forward.”

  “Well, that’s not very exciting.” Belial said. As much as I appreciated Corin fixing the momentum-whatever, I had to agree. I wasn’t sure how much a little extra force would help me in a fight.

  “Don’t worry, that’s not all I did.” She said, pointing to where my hands wrapped around the shaft. “Twist the handle like this...good. Now don’t—” A dull clank sounded from inside the hammer. Before she could stop me, I swung, my mouth falling open when the force ripped the hammer out of my hands, sending it spinning through the air. Lord Caelan ducked as it lodged itself, headfirst, in the wall above his head. “Swing,” Corin finished, holding a hand over her eyes as she grimaced. I stared in awe at the hammer embedded in the wall, then at my empty hands.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Once I’d pried the hammer free, Corin listed off a host of other features she’d added, most of which weren’t all that exciting. Some kind of toxin for the spikes in the handle that would paralyze anyone who tried to steal it, and a tracker that she linked to my ay-eye. When she finished explaining everything, Lord Caelan insisted I put it back inside the case, his face still pale from nearly having his head crushed. We spent the next few hours discussing what my strategy should be.

  Apparently, I wouldn’t have any way to communicate with them outside of safe rooms, and even there, they wouldn’t be able to comment on certain things. Like the whereabouts of other gladiators, or anything I didn’t already know. Once inside I'd be on my own, unless I managed to form a party, which was something they were torn on. There weren’t any sort of protections to prevent gladiators from turning on their own party; the game would still reward them with a prize, and it was something that happened so often it was almost expected.

  I picked up the plate of haggis, ignoring the disgusted look from Lord Caelan as I dug in, unsure when I’d have another chance to eat. I was about to ask how exactly getting food works inside the tower when a bunch of symbols flooded my vision, blinking rapidly as if it were some kind of warning.

  What is that?

  “It says you need to report to the staging area within thirty minutes.”

  Thirty…minutes? Lord Caelan must’ve had the same notification as my sponsor because he stood with a pained expression on his face.

  “It’s time to go.” He said, gesturing with his arm. “I’ll see you there myself.”

  “Why now? I should still have almost ten hours.” I stared up from the couch, chewing on the inside of my lip as I waited for an answer. Lord Caelan let out a long breath when I didn’t stand right away.

  “It’s always random. They place gladiators at different locations throughout the starting area before the games start. Technically, you can be selected to enter anytime within the last ten hours.” He explained, pinching his lips into a frown. One that made me think he might actually feel bad about making me do this.

  “Or they might all kill each other right at the start.” Oren added. I winced at the casual reminder of the horror I was about to be facing.

  “I thought it better if you spent this time without stressing over it.” Lord Caelan said.

  “They’re just going to let me roam around early?” I asked, finally willing myself to stand from the couch. “Won’t I have a huge advantage?”

  “Normally no, because you’d be unconscious until the start…But you will, provided you have as much control over your personal AI as I suspect you do.” Lord Caelan answered, flashing a weak smile that froze me in place.

  Does he know?

  “I do.” My jaw fell open as Lord Caelan answered my thought. A breath lodged in my throat, causing me to cough as I tried to figure out if I’d accidentally asked the question out loud without noticing.

  Did I say that out loud??

  “You didn’t.” He answered again, almost apologetically.

  “You can…you…my thoughts?” I breathed, reeling as I looked at Oren and Corin for answers. Corin just shrugged. “How?”

  “The gift,” Oren muttered, giving Lord Caelan a sidelong glance. “Same as ‘is father.”

  “So, you can hear—”

  “Your friend? No, but I do hear you talking to him…sometimes. It’s very complicated.” His answer sent me stumbling backwards to plop back down on the couch. He held up a hand right as I opened my mouth to speak, “No, I’m not always listening. It doesn’t always work, and despite what you think of me, I try my best to respect people’s boundaries.”

  “Respect my boundaries?” I asked, balling my fists. “You’ve been listening to my thoughts.”

  “Not all the time,” he said, holding up his hands submissively. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s not like I can just rifle through your thoughts whenever I’d like,” he said, as if that made it feel any less invasive.

  “How long?” I managed to ask, still dumbstruck by the revelation.

  “Have I known?” Lord Caelan asked, “It was plain enough from the footage of your little rampage, or should I say, Belial’s little rampage,” He added, grinning. “I admit I was apprehensive about him after watching that…but hearing the way you speak to him…I think he must be a saint.”

  “Finally, some appreciation.”

  “He isn’t. And what is that supposed to mean?” I asked, annoyed as Belial sputtered protests in my ear.

  “Saint or not,” he started, ignoring my question, “there’s a reason I’m revealing this to you now, and it has to do with keeping you alive once you’re inside.”

  “How?” I asked, not holding back my doubt. “Don’t tell me you can see the future too.”

  “No,” he laughed, “nothing like that. It might be better if I just show you.”

  “Can you hear this?”

  I froze as his voice called out inside my mind.

  “Woah. I’m not sure if I like this. There’s barely enough room in your tiny brain for me.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, as I took a step back, put off by the intrusion. “Normal transmissions can be intercepted…”

  “But with this,” he continued in my mind, “I can pass all the information you’ll need to win.”

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