I wake before the lair. I walk the circle. I drink from the deep basin. I stop at three old places and close my eyes. I do not ask the dead for permission. I do not ask the living for blessing. I ask myself if I am ready to be hated for a good reason.
'Yes.'
Arthur arrives with damp hair and eyes like clear ice. He bows and says nothing. He feels the shape of the air and knows it is not the same as yesterday.
"Today we spar without nets," I tell him. I keep my voice even. No drama. "Valeria will not cover your heart. Erebus will not give you a second life. If you set the Pond, I will cross it. If you show me your back, I will take it. If you stop seeing me, I will put my hand through your chest."
His jaw tightens, then loosens. The light in his eyes brightens. He nods once.
Luna stands with her hands clasped, golden light tucked close like a candle cupped against wind. She does not speak. She will not help him until I stop. That is the trust she pays me in.
We begin.
