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She had always suspected that he feared she would leave, and he had every reason to suspect that. She wanted to leave. The only reason she stayed was because she couldn’t get into the tournament without him.
“Constantine?” she called into the open air.
No answer.
“Evander?”
Nothing.
“Danae?”
Where had they gone that even Danae would be absent?
She didn’t know.
A part of her hungered to leave. She knew Kinkadia like the back of her hand. Had been walking those streets, even through the Dregs, since she had been a child. But Carithian was a maze of unfamiliar roads and people. Divisions existed between the classes that she was sure she would never understand. Not fully. Not like they were her people.
As much as she hated the entire slave system here in Carithian—not to mention the fact that Constantine owned her—she wouldn’t know where to begin if she left. Her mother was here … or at least, her husband was here. But she couldn’t go to Vulsan and ask where her mother was. He had wanted her dead since birth. That seemed like a recipe for disaster.
Likewise, she didn’t know where Fordham was. Iris and Augustan lived somewhere in Carithian, but locating them without guidance, without her magic to guide her to Fordham, would be impossible.
A tear tracked down her face as she took her first step into the sand. She had just confirmed that staying with Constantine was her only option. And it burned to admit. That after everything she’d gone through, she would still be owned by a man for his own gain. They might have come to an arrangement about the tournament, but ultimately, this benefited him, and she was gambling on the gift from the gods.
But that was all for a later date. Today, she moved through her paces. The ones she’d been doing the longest were the easiest, like dance steps she had learned as a child at Waisley, her family home. She moved from one to the next to the next, ending with the Andine steps Constantine had drilled into her. They truly were beautiful. Poetic in their fashion. Built out of love.
As her mind settled, she could almost feel Fordham across the distance. He was out there somewhere, doing the same thing she was, feeling the same loneliness and need.
She never reached for her magic. Let that emptiness disappear into the movements. This time with more precision and more heart. She didn’t think about any of them. Instead, she was just present as they moved from her subconscious into her body. Muscle memory took over, and her mind was clear.
Which was how she moved out of the way of Constantine’s first attack and spiraled through the Andine style to avoid the second. She continued her steps, never breaking as air, heat, electricity flowed down toward her, trying to erase the pattern she had drawn into the sand.
Finally, when she was finished with the last pose, she let the pull of the movements leave her. Her mind returned fully to the present, and she looked up to find Constantine standing on the balcony overhead.
“Well done,” he said. He dropped down into the sand, letting his magic cushion his landing. “That was precisely what I want from you tomorrow.”
She put her fist to her chest the way the rest of the gladiators had done so many times—her first act of deference—and he smiled.
“Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
“Yes, Kurios.” She walked across the sand, prepared for everything that was coming.
“And Kerrigan?”
She turned around, startled by hearing her true name on his lips. He must have heard Danae call her that and saved it for this moment.
“Yes?”
“Give ’em hell.”
Kerrigan tipped her head at him and then walked back through the empty corridors of Constantine’s house. It was strangely, eerily quiet. He must have wanted the peace for her to master the final part of his teaching. It wasn’t just about fighting. She could see that now. It was the inner strength and knowledge to make herself one with her training.
It was an Andine ritual. She could feel it despite having no prior knowledge of the fact. He had welcomed her with this like he would any of his men back home. Despite their history, she was thrilled at that.
When she returned to her empty room, she slunk out of her attire. A small basin of water had been left behind, and she sponged the sand off. She wouldn’t get to head to the baths until after she survived the first fight, but this was good enough for now. The weather was so hot and sticky that when she finished, she pulled on the smallest shift and fell back into bed. Exhaustion pulled her under immediately.
It was why she wasn’t ready when a hand clamped down on her mouth and a knife dug into her throat.
