CHAPTER 13: THE CELL DOOR TAX

The cells are under the arena.

I know because I can smell them — blood and rust and old fear baked into stone. Two guards stand at the entrance. Both wear Draevor’s mark. Both lower their spears when they see me.

“Luna,” one says, not respectful. Wary. “Alpha’s orders. No one goes in.”

“Alpha’s orders were sunset,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake. I’m too angry to be scared. “It’s not sunset yet. And I’m here under the Fifth Law. I have right of access to my consorts before Claiming.”

That’s not actually in the Law. But they don’t know that. Most guards can’t read.

They look at each other. The older one spits on the ground. “He said you’d try this. Said to tell you the Necro-wolf’s already half-dead. You go in there, you’ll just watch him bleed out faster.”

Good. If Rook’s half-dead, he’s angry. And angry Rook is useful Rook.

“Open it,” I say.

They don’t.

So I pull Theo’s wooden wolf from my pocket and hold it up. “The Blind Prophet gave me this. For my sister. He said the future where she lives depends on me getting to Rook now. You want to explain to Theo why you interfered with prophecy?”

That hits. Everyone’s scared of Theo. Blind seers who dream your death are worse than Alphas.

The younger guard shifts. “She’s lying—”

“Am I?” I step closer, letting them see the debt-mark on my palm. Silas’s witchwork, gold and angry. “Or do you want to find out what happens when you deny a witch-bound Luna access to her King?”

The older guard curses and jams a key into the lock. “Five minutes. Then we come in and drag you out. Alpha’s orders.”

The door opens. The stench hits first. Then the sound — wet breathing, chains rattling.

Rook is at the back of the cell. They’ve got him on his knees, arms chained to the wall, head hanging. Blood runs down his chest from a dozen shallow cuts. Not deep enough to kill. Deep enough to hurt. Deep enough to keep him from rebooting.

He looks up when he hears me. One eye is swollen shut. The other focuses, and his bloody mouth curves into a grin.

“Took you long enough,” he rasps.

“You told me to run,” I say, crossing the cell in three steps.

“Yeah, well. I lie.” He tests the chains. They don’t give. “You shouldn’t be here. Sunset’s in an hour. Draevor will—”

“Drayvor wants me in the arena. With all four of you.” I drop to my knees in front of him and pull my knife. “So that’s where we’re going.”

“Nyx, no.” His voice goes sharp. “You walk in there, you die. Or worse. He won’t kill you. He’ll break you until you beg for Mira’s life, and then he’ll kill her anyway.”

“I know.” I work the knife into the lock on his right wrist. It’s old iron. Cheap. Draevor didn’t expect me to get this far. “That’s why you’re going to help me ruin it.”

The lock clicks. His right arm drops. He stares at me.

“You have a plan,” he says. It’s not a question.

“I have a weapon.” I move to his left wrist. “You.”

The second lock gives. Rook falls forward, catching himself on his hands. He’s shaking, but not from weakness. From rage.

“They bled me,” he says, looking at his hands. “Every hour. Just enough to keep me from healing. Just enough to make sure I felt it.”

“Good.” I grab his face, make him look at me. “Because I need you pissed. I need you mean. I need the Necro-wolf who doesn’t stay dead.”

“You’ll get him.” He pushes to his feet. Sways. Steadies. “What’s the plan?”

“We walk into the arena.” I stand too. “All four Kings, like he wants. But we don’t Claim. We challenge.”

Rook goes still. “Challenge what?”

“The Law.” I wipe blood off his mouth with my thumb. “Kain said I was built to end it. Not by choosing a consort. By taking a crown. So that’s what we do. We don’t bleed for Draevor. We make Draevor bleed for us.”

For a second, he just stares at me. Then he laughs. It’s a broken, bloody sound, but it’s real.

“That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard,” he says.

“Is it?”

“No.” His hand comes up and covers mine, pressing my palm to his cheek. His skin is hot. Fever-hot. “It’s the best plan I’ve ever heard. Because it means you’re not planning to die.”

“I’m planning to win.” I pull my hand back. “Can you stand?”

“I can do better than stand.” He rolls his shoulders, and I hear bones crack back into place. His eyes are black now, all pupil, no white. Necro-wolf rising. “I can kill.”

“Not yet.” I head for the door. “First, we need Silas and Theo. Then Kain.”

Rook catches my arm. “Kain sold us out.”

“Kain preserved his 1%,” I correct. “He thinks I’m going to walk in there and die to save Mira. He doesn’t know about the tether. He doesn’t know if I die, the Law dies.”

“And if you tell him?”

“Then he’ll stop me.” I meet Rook’s eyes. “Kain doesn’t want a martyr. He wants a monarch. If he knows I’m planning to take him down with me, he’ll lock me in a lab and throw away the key.”

Rook studies me. Then nods. “So we use him. Get him in the arena, then turn.”

“Exactly.”

We move. The guards are gone — probably went to report to Draevor. Good. Let him come. Let him think he’s won.

Silas is in his tower, unsurprised to see us. “Well, well. The dead man and the desperate girl. Come to collect that favor already?”

“Come to the arena,” I say. “Sunset. Draevor’s forcing the Claiming.”

Silas twirls his staff. “And you want me to do what? Set something on fire? I’m good at that.”

“I want you to stand with me. When I challenge the Law.”

That gets his attention. His grin sharpens. “Now that’s interesting. What’s in it for me?”

“You get to watch Draevor lose.” I hold his gaze. “And you get to keep your King title when I rewrite the Law. Unless you’d rather die today?”

Silas considers it. Then shrugs. “Fair. I’m bored anyway. I’ll be there.”

Theo is harder. He’s still in his tower, sitting in the dark.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says when I walk in. “You should be running.”

“I’m done running.” I kneel in front of him. “Sunset. Arena. I’m ending this.”

He’s quiet for a long time. “You die if you do that.”

“Not if I win.”

“You don’t win, Nyx. Not this way. I’ve seen it.” His sewn eyes turn to me. “If you walk into that arena and challenge, Draevor kills Mira first. Then he kills you. Then the Law continues with the next girl.”

The tether in my chest pulses. He doesn’t know about it. He can’t see it.

“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe you haven’t seen everything.”

I take his hand. It’s cold. “I need you there, Theo. Not to fight. To witness. If I’m going to break the Law, I need the Prophet King to see it. To tell the truth of it after.”

Theo’s fingers tighten on mine. “You’ll die.”

“Then you’ll watch.” I lean in, press my forehead to his. Like Rook did to me. Like a promise. “And you’ll tell them I chose it. Not Draevor. Me.”

He breathes out, shaky. “Day 16.”

“Day 6,” I correct. “We move the date up.”

He doesn’t answer. But he stands.

That’s enough.

Kain is last. He’s in his lab, unsurprisingly. He doesn’t look up when we walk in — all four of us.

“Sunset,” I say.

“I know.” He keeps writing. “I’ll be there. To record the results.”

“No.” I walk to his table. Slam my hands down. “You’ll be there to fight. With us. Against Draevor.”

Now he looks up. “That’s not the 1%.”

“The 1% is dead.” I lean in. “You said I was built to take a crown. So I’m taking it. Today. From Draevor first. Then from the Law. Then from you, if I have to.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Interest. Fear. “You’ll lose.”

“Maybe.” I straighten. “But I’m done being your experiment. Arena. Sunset. Be there, or I’ll name you traitor in front of the packs and let Rook tear your throat out.”

Rook grins behind me. “With pleasure.”

Kain studies me. Then, slowly, he nods. “Sunset.”

We leave.

Day 6. One hour until sunset.

I have four Kings. One tether. One debt. One prophecy. One plan that’s going to get us all killed.

But Rook is alive. Mira is alive. And I’m not walking into that arena to die.

I’m walking in to make Draevor wish he’d killed me on Day 1.