I stare as another man—one fully clothed—joins the queue of suitors, stands behind Corin, next to a huge lantern that throws shadows over them both.
It takes me a moment to recognize the newcomer, and I gasp as Jed’s eyes meet mine. He smiles.
I look away. I wipe my sweaty palms on the dress, hoping that Nyesha won’t mind the marks on it. I swallow hard; there’s a lump in my throat as I look around the room, try to steady my nerves. The Old One’s Arena is a large dungeon-like space within one of the tubes. Railings have been rigged up in a circle, and they keep us—the spectators—away from the fighters. Someone’s hand presses against my upper back.
“He’s got no chance.”
Esther. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. I turn, meet her accusing eyes. She stands right behind me, dressed in a long, pale green dress made of flimsy, floaty fabric.
“They’ll kill him, Seven,” she says. “And it will be your fault. Corin’s risking everything for you. But you don’t care, do you? As long as you’re okay, you don’t care about anyone else.”
“Esther, I—” But I break off, don’t know what I’m saying. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.
I turn back to survey the arena. Corin and Jed look like the weakest men of the lot. Both stand with their feet shoulder-width apart, their arms locked by their sides, their hands clenched into tight, meaningful fists. Corin’s face is full of concentration, and the way his eyes are locked straight ahead, and the angle of his lopsided frown, suggests he’s thinking hard. Planning something. Whatever strategy he’s got, I hope it’s good.
Jed’s posture lacks the tension. He looks more relaxed, comfortable. He’s done this before, knows what to expect. But I’m guessing he wasn’t injured before. He hasn’t got a staff now, but even I can tell he’s favoring his bad leg.
Several of the other men are warming up: flexing their muscles, stretching their legs, bracing their backs, showing off tattoos.
Then the fighting begins. Suddenly. Just like that.
I’d expected it to have some sort of structure. But it doesn’t. The men just run at each other, punching, kicking, shoving. Nails draw blood. Bloodied noses appear.
And everyone around me is cheering.
Men wave their fists, children are reaching over the barrier. A woman to my left screams so loudly my ears start to ache. And still she carries on screaming. Her face gets dangerously red, her eyes are watering, a muscle in her jaw is throbbing. Her cracked lips are stretched, almost to breaking point, as she bellows words I can’t make out. Something splatters over my bare arm—her saliva. I recoil back, but there’s nowhere to go. More people press against me from behind, standing on the hem of my dress, yet forcing me forward until the rails dig into my ribs. I scream, try to push back, but no one’s listening to me. Everyone is watching the fight.
And they are loving it.
Somehow I manage to turn around, and the rail presses across my spine, makes my muscles ache. I swallow hard, wipe more sweat from me… But it’s so hot in here… Too hot… Oh Gods. I want to touch my Seer pendant, but my fingers are like ice because I know I mustn’t, mustn’t draw attention to it.
Ether’s retreated to the back of the room. I can just see the top of her head, with her short, dark hair sticking up. She’s leaning against someone. Manning?
A scream behind me cuts my breath short, and then the crowd pushes against me, right up close. The railing crushes against my spine. Pain. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
A gong sounds loudly, somewhere above me, makes me jump. And I know—just know—one of the men is down. The first one.
People scream either side of me. And then Clare’s at my side, blond hair wild. Her eyes are narrowed but urgent.
“It’s the perfect distraction,” she says. I almost miss her words with all the noise around us.
“What is?” I blink several times.
Her eyes narrow into fine lines as she focuses on the fighting men. “Yes… I’ll kill him… They’ll think it’s another man’s doin’. They won’t know it’s me.” She holds up her hand, shows me a small knife poking out of her fist. She smiles, and there’s something about her stance that reminds me of Raleigh. “They’re all fightin’, not payin’ attention to us. I’m a good aim. Even if I don’t hit Jed, I’ll hit one of them.”
My eyes widen as I stare at her. She could hit Corin. “You can’t!”
Clare lifts one shoulder a little, and the material of her violet dress swishes. She’s taller than me, and her clear blue eyes look over the top of a lot of heads. “I didn’t think you were so weak. Can’t you see? We need to teach them a lesson. We’re not weak. And women can be Seers, just like my sister was.”
I flinch a little. But she can’t know what I am. She can’t. Because if she’s worked it out, then surely the men must’ve too.
Or they will.
I hear a battle cry behind me—but the fury and intended intimidation is mixed with agony. The scream echoes above us all, ringing and ringing on and on, until the next one sounds.
“Esther!” I look around for her again, but now she’s gone, and everyone’s moving. And I can’t do anything. Oh Gods.
Another gong.
I narrowly avoid throwing up. Someone near me has. The smell is pungent as it curls into my nostrils, mixing with body odor and stale sweat. I look down at my feet—my bare feet—and cringe as I imagine myself standing in something bad.
Gong.
The sound resounds around me, fills my ears. I can’t breathe, can’t think… Don’t want to think.
I hear someone shouting, but can’t make out the words. It’s the Zharat language… But they shout again, and now I’m not so sure… My head’s mangled up. I can’t concentrate, can’t think.
He’s dead. Corin’s dead.
I flinch. No. Can’t be. No.
Two more gongs, in quick succession. Five men down. Nine to go.
I push away, toward another group of people, squeeze between two men, force my way through. But I can’t. Can’t get far enough away. People keep pushing me back, and I’m turning—turning without realizing—because I keep ending up back at the rails.
The bridge of my nose prickles. My bottom lip trembles. I clasp my hands together, try to remain calm. Need to remain calm.
Gong.
Gong.
Gong.
Others are moving. Three men, supporting something between them. I glimpse bare flesh. Torn skin. Blood. Not something, someone.
“It’s Yoliv!” a voice cries.
My vision blurs. If Yoliv is… Corin… He’s… I gulp, still staring at the injured man. He’s not dead.
And as I stare at Yoliv—for minutes that stretch on and on—the next five gongs ring loudly, one after another, hardly any space at all between them.
The final two. I can hear their grunts. They don’t sound strong. They sound weak. The crowd is quieter now, more hushed. I want to turn to see who the top two men are, but I can’t bring myself to move.
Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into hours. Somehow, without trying, I’ve finally made it to the back of the crowd, and I lean against the wall, my palms pressed flat against the cold stone.
My chest tightens. I have to look to see if Corin is….
So I turn. And I barely register moving. And people are parting the crowd, letting me back through, and it isn’t a struggle at all. It’s so easy, and—
Corin. I see him. See his brown hair. See him as white light shoots out from Jed’s hand toward him. A flash, burning.
I go cold.
That light… No. I shake my head… I’ve seen someone do that before: Raleigh. He sent a flash of white light toward the Untamed people from my village when they were rescuing me from the Enhanced Ones’ compound.
It’s the same light. Jed is using the same power.
Oh Gods. That’s not fair.
But Jed hasn’t got the bison tattooed on his forehead—not like….
Yet it makes sense. That’s how he’s still there. That’s how he’s beating them.
People are cheering.
My hands go cold. Corin’s not going to win. Corin can’t win.
Gods, it’s so obvious. So obvious now.
Jed’s a Seer.
And he’s going to kill Corin.
The final gong cries out.
The room goes quiet. Eerily quiet.
Then people move.
Someone claps. The clapping grows louder, pounding away, over and over at my skull.
I run forward, see Esther, reach out for her. But she moves, steered away by Manning.
Manning. I focus on him. He’s walking forward. People are moving out of his way, dividing before him. He’s walking toward the open space.
I can’t see Corin.
He’s dead, Seven. Jed killed him.
I flinch, pull at my hair—need to relieve some of the pressure in my head—and drag some of the beads out. I drop them on the floor and check that my Seer pendant is still secure in my hair.
Someone touches my shoulder. An old man grins at me. His eyes are bulging, his lips are blue. And then another man reaches for me, squeezing my shoulder, bowing his head toward me.
And the clapping’s still going on. Louder. Louder.
A man shouts for silence. He gets it.
Manning smiles and points. “The winner! This man’s proven himself worthy of being blessed for marriage with Seven Sarr of the Zharat, formerly of the Unknown Lands! Scream for Jed Zalinsky of the Zharat!”
My shoulders tighten. I don’t know what to do. Can’t… If Jed is here, that only means one thing: Corin is injured.
Or worse.
“Seven, you need to go up there, to the altar.” Soraya’s voice fogs my ears, and I stare at her blankly. She reaches forward, then she’s doing something to my hair for a moment. Fixing it? A bright smile. “Go.”
She starts to push me along, and then I’m in the arena, and I’m standing with them. With Manning and Jed, and Manning’s reaching for my hand and he’s already got Jed’s and—
I feel sick. My head pounds. I start to gag.
The wedding.
“Stop!” Jed’s voice. “I don’t want the ceremony today.” He’s looking at me. Eyes firmly on me.
I shudder, don’t understand.
“What?” Manning says.
“I want another month.”
My head starts to spin. That’s… He’s buying us time? Me and Corin? My head pounds, the pain gets worse. I don’t understand. He’s just won the fight.
“It is too close,” Jed says. “I cannot walk properly yet. I need another month, until the official ceremony. I want to be at my best for our presentation to the Gods. But we will live together before then.”
Live together?
And Manning nods. Just like that. “Your marriage will take place at the next full moon.”
I gasp, start to choke, and then things happen. A lot of things. Things that just blur over me, past me. Things that won’t go away. I think I see Corin’s face—bloodied and broken.
But then there’s darkness all around me.
I’m falling, crashing… Something crawls over me, then prickles against my left side. Short, sharp pricks.
“She’s fainting!” someone cries.
And then there’s nothing.
I don’t know what’s happening. But I’m being led away, a few minutes later. By Jed. My hand is in his. And I’ve got a ring on, but don’t remember it being slid on my finger. Don’t remember much… Not since I fainted.
The shock of it, that’s what someone said. That’s why I fainted.
Jed’s hand shakes.
But mine shakes more.
I try to turn, to search for Corin. But there are too many people. Too many faces swarm around me. And they’re shouting. Everyone’s shouting something.
Jed squeezes my hand, and my fingers crush up around the ring. Brief pain. I look up to see him grinning down at me. He has a cut under his left eye, and the skin over his collarbone has been broken in several places. I wonder whether Clare threw that knife in the end—and wish she had—then look away, feel my face burn.
I don’t know if Corin is still alive.
Your marriage will take place at the next full moon.
I can’t remember who said the words. Manning probably. But they’re echoing over and over in my mind. Can’t get them out of my head. They’re torturing me, spinning round and round, tormenting me.
Your marriage will take place at the next full moon.
“Come to our room, S’ven.” Jed’s voice is low, and his breath pushes against the side of my face like an insistent mosquito. “Come on, wife.”
Wife-to-be. I want to correct him. But I can’t. I can’t do anything. My body won’t work properly, won’t obey me. And it all happened so quickly. I shake my head. It can’t be real. Not yet.
Jed Zalinsky. The name feels strange, and part of me wonders if I’ll have to become Seven Zalinsky. My mother kept her name—and my father became a Sarr when they married—but something makes me think that Jed won’t be taking mine.
A group of men pass us, shouting rowdy, rude remarks. Jed pushes forward, not saying anything. The bottom of my dress snags on something, but I can’t stop to unfix it; the fabric tears.
“This is it here,” Jed says a few moments later, but I know it is. He took me here before. His room.
Jed reaches out and holds the heavy drape back—I now notice it’s got a dark tartan pattern to it, unusual—and gestures for me to go first.
But my feet are too heavy.
“It is okay,” he whispers, “it is only me.”
I don’t know how those words are supposed to be comforting.
Jed takes my hand in his, leads me in carefully, as though I am fragile and might break at any moment. I don’t know why that annoys me so much, when that’s exactly how I feel.
Jed lets the drape fall back behind us, plummeting us into pitch black. I look around; try to remember where everything is. There’s a bed somewhere behind me, a table to my left? Or was it over there? I press my hands together for comfort, but all I can feel is the ring.
“It is all right.” Jed’s voice is too close. “You will remember the layout soon.”
“You’re a Seer,” I blurt out, heart pounding, and I don’t like the way my voice echoes. But he didn’t say anything before—when he talked about his father being a Seer of Life, he never said he was a Seer too.
But why would he?
There’s a long pause, and I strain my eyes, try to see him. Try to see the bison tattooed on his forehead—even though I know it’s not there. I shake my head. It must just be that one Seer who has that tattoo. Maybe he’s more important—might have been a Seer for longer?
“It has been two years.” Jed’s words are edged in danger.
“What?”
“I am a Seer of Innovation. But my Seer powers and the Dream Land access were blocked—by grief. Not that we need the Dream Land here; we are never summoned, we are safe.” He pauses, and I feel the rush of his breath against my face. He’s closer than I thought. “But it feels good to have my Seer powers back.”
I swallow hard. He’s pleased to have his Seer powers back because he used them to fight?
Because he used them to win you.
Jed touches my shoulder, and I jump.
“The bed is just there.” His accent is even stronger. “In case you want to sit down.”
Panic starts to rise within me.
He laughs: a raucous sound. I clench my hands into tight fists. They twitch with energy. I think about punching him and running—but I know I won’t be able to. My body’s locking up, doesn’t feel like it’s my own.
“S’ven.” Jed’s voice is strangely soft. “I have no interest in having a sexual relationship with you.”
“What?” I blink several times, wish I could see him. Don’t understand wh
at he means, what games he’s playing. “But you’ve just… I’m supposed to marry you.”
I think he nods.
“I know.”
I stare at him. My eyes are adjusting now, and I can make out a slight contour in the darkness, a contour that I think is the edge of his face. “But you’re not interested in me?”
“Do not sound so surprised. You are not that attractive.”
My head whirs, and I don’t know why those words make me feel like I do. Then it occurs to me: Jed and Corin were the last fighters left in the ring. Jed and Corin. Corin. And Jed doesn’t like Corin.
My next breath catches. “You did it to stop Corin from winning me?”
“I am not a petty teenager, S’ven.”
I shake my head. “So, why? Why did you do it? Why’d you stop Corin?”
There’s a slight pause, a pause in which I hear just how heavy his breathing is.
“To keep an eye on you.”
I go cold. I draw my lips into a firm line. In my hair, my Seer pendant starts to radiate heat; my fingers itch to touch it. But I force myself not to move. Jed’s watching me, I’m sure, like he’s waiting for something—for me to do something, say something. Confirm it.
I hear his clothes rustle as he steps closer. His hands land on my shoulders, make me jump.
“S’ven. Do not speak a word of this to anyone.” He squeezes my shoulders; his grip is too hard, too firm. “No one can know about this arrangement, they must think we are together—together in all the ways—else I will lose status, and I will not be happy. Bad things happen when I am not happy. Understand? Good. Come on.” He lets go of my shoulders, then grabs my hand. “We will go and find others.”
I am only too eager to go back out into the tubes where there is light. I try to clear my throat, but I can’t seem to work the muscles there.
Oh Gods. Somehow, he knows.
There’s only one reason why a Zharat Seer would want to keep an eye on me: to get proof.
To get proof, before he kills me.
Jed knows I’m a Seer.
I expect Jed to say something—a hint at least of what he knows, a few words to scare me, make me nervous—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything, just delivers me to the gathering area, then hovers behind me, leaving me wondering how long he’s known for…since he asked about my pendant in the Zharat lorry? I swallow hard.
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