“You made me be friends with you.” She glared at him as she set her bucket of soapy water by her feet.
“I didn’t make you do anything.” He set his bucket down too. “Nobody ever makes you do anything.”
She ran her fingers lightly over the runes in her cuffs and looked away.
Seconds later his hand brushed lightly across her wrist, lingering on the cuff, one finger resting on the web of scars that peeked out from beneath the iron. “Why do you wear these if they bother you?”
She moved her hand away. “Who says they bother me?”
“Sajda.” His voice was gentle.
She met his eyes defiantly. “What?”
“Are we truly friends?”
“I don’t know how this happened. I blame you.”
“I can live with that,” he said. “And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. But one day, I hope you trust me enough to tell me why you wear those bracelets if you don’t like—”
“Cuffs.”
The word slipped out before she thought to stop it, and one look at the slowly gathering thundercloud on his face had her wishing she could take it back.
“Cuffs.” His voice was deadly quiet.
“It’s nothing. We should scrub the floor.”
“It’s everything.” He waited until she looked into his eyes, so dark and right now so full of fury. “Isn’t it?”
She clenched her jaw and willed herself to be a star—distant and untouchable. The thundercloud on his face became a storm.
“The warden did this to you, didn’t she? Put iron cuffs on you so that every time you lift your hands you remember that she sees you as her slave.” His voice had a lethal edge to it now.
“She doesn’t just see me as a slave. I am a slave. Bought and paid for.” She was a star. A galaxy. A vast, unknowable space so very far from here.
“She may have paid coin for you, but she doesn’t own you. You’ve seen to that. I’ve never met someone with more confidence and courage than you.” He held her gaze with his, but he didn’t really know her. He hadn’t seen the truth.
The warden hadn’t just bought a slave. She’d bought a monster. And monsters didn’t get to keep mothers or homes or friends.
“I’m going to check on the weapons. The warden ordered me to see what needs to be sharpened before the next combat round. You can scrub the floor. And when you’re done with that, go offer a sneak peek at the weapons’ placement schematic to the four competitors you wanted to build an alliance with. Hashim and his friends will be stuck cleaning the ovens in the kitchen for at least another hour, so you’ll be safe.” She was already backing away, her fingers itching to touch her cuffs as her magic spun through her like chaos, wild and wounded.
“Sajda—”
She left him in the middle of the arena, surrounded by buckets, guards, and the other prisoners from level fifteen.
He wasn’t supposed to hear the things she wasn’t saying. No one was. With him, she couldn’t hide behind the ice she borrowed from the stars. The spaces between her words left her secrets bare to him.
Friendship was terrifying.
She was a fool for falling into its trap.
Magic churned through her, nipping at her skin. It streaked through her veins with a familiar pain, hunting for a target, but there wasn’t one.
She’d allowed this. Dropped her defenses because he’d protected Tarek. Because he’d saved the life of a stranger in the arena at the expense of his own victory. Because he’d said he was a prince, but he treated her like his equal.
Because when he smiled with that hint of challenge in his eyes, something wild and bright woke within her.
The cuffs burned against her skin as her magic thrummed with every heartbeat.
And still she didn’t know what she was supposed to do about Javan.
“Well, look at that. I’ve been hoping to catch you alone.”
Sajda whipped around to find Dabir standing behind her, blocking her return from the corridor that led beneath the seating platforms to the small weapons closet.
“That’s a very foolish wish.” Her voice shook as the magic within her hurled itself against her skin, begging for its freedom. “You’re supposed to be cleaning the ovens.”
“Hashim thought one of us should go see what you do with your pet all day.”
“You’ll be beaten once the guards find you.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been beaten plenty since I came here. Once more doesn’t matter. Especially now that I can tell Hashim you’re using the new boy as a maid during the mornings and a punching bag in the afternoon.” His smile made her skin crawl. “And I can tell him he was right about you.”
“So you skipped roll call yesterday afternoon to watch level fifteen’s arena practice, and you think that means you know something about me?”
“I’d heard the rumors—how you’re too fast and too strong to be just a slave girl who feeds the beasts—but until I saw you sparring yesterday, I thought the rumors were just Hashim making an excuse for not subduing you yet the way he’d like to.”
Her breathing came hard and fast as she stared him down.
He stepped closer, and she held her ground, even though everything about him made her want to back away. “Now I think he’s still making excuses, but I can see why he’d want to overpower all of that speed and strength. Hashim thinks we’re just going to leave you for him, but . . .” He shrugged as if to say oh well, I got here first.
Fury and fear twined within her until she could no longer tell the two apart. Her magic buzzed beneath her skin, a hornets’ nest ready for blood.
His blood.
He thought he’d seen the limits of her power while she was sparring with Javan, but he hadn’t seen anything yet. Raising her fists, she said, “I’ll give you one chance to walk away.”
He laughed. “You’re a good fighter, I saw that for myself, but I’ve got you by several handspans. It’s been a long time since I had to subdue a girl to get a taste of her and there’s nowhere for you to run.”
Her smile was vicious. “No, Dabir. There’s nowhere for you to run.”
He frowned, but she was already moving. She took three running steps forward and slammed her fists into his face. He flew backward and crashed against the rough stone wall of the corridor. Blood poured from his nose, and her magic whispered and begged and screamed until she fell to her knees beside him, cupped her hands beneath his chin, and let his blood pool in her hand.
She’d never held another person’s blood in her hands before. Distantly, she knew she should be frightened or disgusted or worried about the way her magic was scraping at her palms like a rabid animal. But instead, she was fascinated. It was like his blood was the key to a side of her magic she hadn’t known existed.
He groaned and tried to slide away from her, but she wasn’t watching him. She was staring at the tiny crimson lake in the center of her palm. Her magic surged, a painful itch that spread along her arm and exploded into her palm with agonizing brilliance.
The blood spun in lazy circles, and images floated into Sajda’s mind.
His past.
His intentions.