The colosseum galleries buzzed with the aftermath of the first duel—commoners still whispering about Amelia's stubborn stand, nobles muttering excuses for Harlan. The sun beat down mercilessly on the open arena floor, turning the concrete into a hot plate. Dust hung in the air like faint smoke, kicked up from the earlier explosion.
Liana Starweaver climbed the stone steps back to the highest gallery—ash-brown hair slightly windswept, cheeks flushed from running down to check on Amelia and back up again. She hopped over the low railing and dropped onto the bench beside Ela Voss with a dramatic sigh.
Lysandra turned first—golden hair catching the light like liquid sunlight. "Is she alright?"
Liana chuckled—low, mischievous—settling cross-legged and leaning back on her hands. "More than alright."
She shot a sideways grin at Ela—who sat primly beside her, hands folded in her lap, lavender hair falling over one amethyst eye—then looked over her shoulder at the rest of the group.
