A Scala changing? That could be cool to watch. To be safe, I pick out a spot by an exit archway, the easier to duck out if things get really boring.

Verus raises her arms. “Let the initiation begin!”

All the angels take to their feet. The air echoes with the rustling of wings and robes. They speak in one voice. “Has the Scala Heir been found?”

Verus lowers her arms. “Yes. Among the thrax nobility.”

Thrax nobility? My stomach sinks to my toes. Yuck.

Moving as one group, the angels extend their white wings. Half the arena becomes blindingly bright. They speak again as one: “Let them bring the Scala Heir to us to be awakened and angelbound.” They all retake their seats.

“We will bring out the Scala Heir.” Verus smiles softly. “But first, the realm that produced the Heir will take the Arena floor. Today, this honor goes to the thrax. The thrax are divided into many Houses, the greatest of these being Horus, Striga, Kamal, Acca, and Rixa. All five will appear before us today. First is the House of Horus, the descendants of the Nubian Pharaohs.”

I exhale with relief. Nubian Pharaohs? That means Lincoln isn’t likely to take the Arena floor. At least, not yet.

I pick at the lint under my nails with my tail. Not that I care what he does, of course.

A trumpet call echoes through the air. The dirt floor shakes as the House of Horus does who-knows-what in the maze of hallways leading to the Arena floor. More trumpets blare as a dozen two-wheeled chariots barrel out of a nearby archway, each one driven by a pair of gray stallions.

The Arena floor rattles beneath my feet as the chariots charge around the stadium. My mouth bursts into a grin. These guys are so badass, it isn’t even funny.

As they tool around the Arena floor, I can see that the drivers are tall men with ebony skin, solid frames, and long dreadlocks. They wear brown linen pants topped by black leather tunics. The image of a looping Egyptian eye is sewn onto their chests in bronze thread.

The chariots ride in different formations, their paths creating a complex series of circles and lines. Golden bridles glimmer in the horses’ mouths. The chariots crisscross into the most complex pattern yet. Then, they stop in neat rows in one corner of the stadium. Whoa. I can’t believe they didn’t bump into each other at least once.

I clap wildly, but everyone else is silent. Oops. I pop my hands behind my back.

“Second is the House of Striga,” says Verus. “Their skills in sorcery and witchcraft are famous across the five realms.”