“Okay.” Beq’s voice sounded stronger. “Thank you.”

“Go get some rest.”

“You too,” Beq said.

She paused, awkwardly, as the Legionaries opened the door. Then, catching Maya’s eye one last time, she shuffled out. The guards closed the door behind her, and Maya was again alone.

Chosen fucking defend. She fell back on the bed, head still spinning. She kissed me. For a moment, all her other problems seemed far away. She really kissed me.

Now all I have to do is win.

*

The Forge’s dueling ground, like the rest of the fortress, had been built to a titanic scale to accommodate a golden age that had never come. The arena was an oval ring several hundred meters across, floored with sand. Dozens of huge rough-cut stone pillars were strewn around it, leaving a clear space in the very center. Given the rarity of formal duels between centarchs, the place saw more use as a training field, and the stones were scorched, chipped, and twisted in a mute testament to the eager agathia who’d sparred here.

A ring of seats surrounded the arena, protected from any stray energy by a wall of unmetal-laced glass. They were already filling up when Maya and her guards arrived, centarchs in their colored cloaks claiming the best view in the center, with the drabber figures of scouts, arcanists, quartermasters, and servants settling in around them. It looks like the whole Order turned out. Maya hadn’t imagined there were so many people in the Forge.

Beq would be down there, somewhere. The thought of her sent a thrill through Maya, which she tried hard to banish. Win first. Sort out your love life later.

They’d arrived on the highest level, a spectator’s balcony that overhung the seats. The two Legionaries waited patiently by the stairs as Maya looked over the arena, trying to fix in her mind the positions of all the stone pillars. When the height started making her a little dizzy, she returned to them, and they took her back to the stairs. They switchbacked through several more landings, past the tunnels that led to the seats, and finally reached an archway guarded by another pair of soldiers. Maya guessed they were now level with the floor of the arena.

The guards motioned for her to stop. After a moment, Evinda Stonecutter emerged from the doorway, recognizable only by the colored fringe on her cloak. She was fully armored, haken on her hip, face concealed behind an unmetal helmet.

“Centarch.” Maya bowed.

“Agathios-Challenger Maya,” Evinda said, painfully correct as ever. “In the name of the Council, I offer you this final opportunity to retract your challenge, without prejudice.”