CHAPTER 10: THE ARENA'S CHOICE

The arena smells like blood and ozone.

It’s packed. Every pack in the territories sent someone. Priests line the upper ring in their black robes, watching like crows. Draevor stands in the Alpha’s box with my sister.

Mira isn’t in a Claiming dress this time. She’s in white linen, simple, but her hair is braided with gold thread. Pre-Claiming rites. Day 5, and he’s already dressing her for it.

My hands shake. I fist them in my skirts to hide it.

Rook walks beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as we cross the sand. He’s not grinning. He’s not touching me. Not here, not with everyone watching. But he’s close enough that I can feel him, and that’s the point.

Silas is already in the center of the ring, leaning on his staff. He looks bored, but his eyes track every step I take. Theo stands at the far end, head tilted toward the sound of my footsteps. Kain waits by the priests, silver blood already dried on his palm from yesterday, his expression unreadable.

Four Kings. Twenty-five days left. Blood is lethal now.

And Draevor has my sister.

“Bring forth the Luna,” the High Priest intones. His voice echoes through the arena. “Day 5 of the Fifth Law. The grace period has ended. She has bonded all four. She will choose her consort now, and the executions will commence.”

That’s not the Law. The Law gives me seven days. But no one corrects him. No one dares.

I step onto the sand. Rook stays at the edge. His plan was to buy time. Lie to the priests. Tell them the bond isn’t stable.

Draevor smiles down from his box. “Go on, Luna. Show us which King you favor. Show us who dies first.”

Mira waves at me. She doesn’t understand. She thinks this is a game.

I look at Theo first. He can’t see me, but he turns his face toward my voice anyway. Day 16. Arrow to the heart. He dies for me in every future where I live. If I choose him now, does that save him? Or does it just make Rook kill him faster?

I look at Silas next. He winks at me, slow and deliberate. His mother ripped his heart out. He wears that trauma like armor. He’d laugh if I picked him to die. He’d probably thank me for making it interesting.

I look at Kain. He built me to end this. To take a crown instead of a consort. His 1% future says I win, but only if I’m ruthless enough to let the others die. He’s watching me with no expression, but his hand is clenched. He’s not as clinical as he pretends.

Then I look at Rook.

He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at Draevor, and his whole body is a live wire. If I say his name right now, he’ll go for Draevor’s throat before the priests can blink. He’ll die for it, and he won’t come back, because he promised me he wouldn’t if it meant saving Mira.

I can’t let him do that.

I also can’t choose. Not yet. Not with Mira in that box, not with twenty-five days left to find another way.

So I do what Rook told me to do. I lie.

“The bonds aren’t stable,” I say, and my voice carries across the arena. It shakes, but I don’t care. Let them hear it. Let them think I’m weak. “Kain’s blood is different. It’s interfering with the others. If I choose now, the consort bond will fail. The Law will fail.”

A murmur goes through the crowd. The priests lean toward each other, whispering.

Draevor’s smile drops. “The Scientist King’s blood is irrelevant. The Law—”

“The Law says the Luna must bond four Kings and crown one,” I interrupt him, and the whole arena goes silent. No one interrupts Alpha Draevor. Unranked hybrids definitely don’t. “It doesn’t say the bonds have to work on your timeline. Kain himself can confirm it. His blood rejected the initial bonding. We need time to correct it.”

Every eye turns to Kain.

He could ruin me. One word from him about Project Moonbane, about the 1% future, about me being built to take his crown, and the priests would burn me alive.

Kain looks at me for a long moment. Then he looks at the High Priest.

“She’s correct,” he says, his voice flat. “My bloodline contains synthetic markers. They’re causing rejection cascades in the shared bond. Forcing a consort choice now will result in total system collapse. The Luna would die. The Kings would die. The bloodlines would end.”

He’s lying. Or maybe he’s not. With Kain, it’s impossible to tell. But the priests don’t know that. They only know that the Scientist King deals in facts, and if he says the Law will fail, they believe him.

The High Priest frowns. “How long to correct the instability?”

“Three days,” Kain says without hesitation. “Day 8. When blood becomes fully lethal anyway. We choose then, when the bond can sustain the execution load.”

Day 8. The same day Draevor threatened to start Mira’s rotation. Kain just neutralized it. If Draevor moves on Mira before Day 8, he’s violating the new timeline Kain just gave the priests.

Draevor’s face goes red. “This is—”

“Acceptable,” the High Priest cuts him off. “The Law’s integrity is paramount. We will reconvene on Day 8. The Luna will choose, and the first execution will proceed immediately after.”

The crowd starts to disperse, disappointed but obedient. The priests file out. The moment breaks.

Draevor stares at me from his box, his hand tight on Mira’s shoulder. She wilts under his grip, finally sensing the danger. Then he turns and drags her away, out of the box, out of sight.

I can breathe again.

Rook is at my side before the last priest leaves. “You did it,” he says, low enough that only I can hear. “You bought us three days.”

“Kain did it,” I say, watching the Scientist King as he walks off the sand without looking back at me.

“Kain lied for you,” Rook corrects. “That’s different. That’s not data. That’s choice.”

Silas strolls over, twirling his staff. “Well, that was dramatic. I was hoping to watch someone die today. Guess I’ll have to wait.” He stops in front of me, too close, and taps my chin with one finger. “Clever girl, lying to the priests. But you know Draevor won’t wait three days, right? He’ll find another loophole.”

“I know,” I say.

“Good.” Silas grins. “Then you’ll need me. I know loopholes better than anyone.” He winks and walks away, leaving the scent of witchcraft and cloves behind.

Theo is the last to approach. He doesn’t speak until he’s right in front of me. Then he reaches out, finds my hand with unerring accuracy, and presses something into my palm.

A small carving. Wood. Shaped like a wolf.

“For your sister,” he says quietly. “I made it last night. I saw her crying in one of the futures. This was in her hand. So I made it real.”

I close my fingers around the wolf. It’s warm from his hand. “Theo—”

“Day 16,” he says, and smiles. “But until then, I’m still here. And I see you, Nyx. I see all of you. Even the parts you’re scared of.”

He touches my cheek once, feather-light, and walks away.

Rook makes a low sound in his throat. “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters.

“No, you’re not,” I say, tucking Theo’s carving into my pocket. “Not yet.”

We leave the arena together. The sand is still stained with old blood. Tomorrow, it’ll be stained with new.

Day 5. Twenty-five days left.

I lied to the priests. Kain lied for me. Rook would have died for me. Theo gave me something for Mira. Silas promised me loopholes.

Three days. That’s all I bought.

But three days is enough time to figure out how to keep Rook alive, how to stop Day 16, how to get Mira out before Draevor can use her.

Three days is enough time to start breaking the Law instead of just surviving it.

Rook laces his fingers through mine as we walk back to the castle. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

The bond between us hums, angry and alive and mine.

And for the first time since this started, I don’t feel like property.

I feel like a threat.