I move to obey his command—taking a seat—but I slide a hand to the knife at my belt as I do. I position myself so that his view of the blade is cut off. I wouldn’t dare face one of their gods without a weapon. Better if it were a sword.

My people have never worshipped the pantheon. Blood sacrifices disgusted my ancestors. So did the idea of depending on anyone or anything. We’ve paid the price for our rebellion over the centuries. Always the Ashlords have had an edge against us. Their gods turn the tides of war with impossible magic. I take a moment to recall all I know of the Dread.

He’s the patient one. The safest of their kind. The one who hides and warns and waits.

“What does the god of caution want from me?” I ask.

The answer comes in a slithering voice. “I wanted to take a long look at my potential warrior. The very symbol of the war to come. We get glimpses, of course. We have eyes and ears in this world, but I have always tended to trust my own eyes above all others.”

I stare back at him. “Your warrior? I never agreed to that.”

The slit eyes narrow. “Not yet. I offered my services to your grandfather long ago. He rejected me. I came to your father before he decided to send you here. I offered my protection. He was hesitant. I thought the son might be wiser than the fathers. Did tonight teach you nothing? You are exposed, Longhand. Do you know why you were sent here?”

My jaw tightens. “I was sent here to win.”

“Ideally,” the god replies. “Win the Races and the Reach will march with a boldness this generation has forgotten. But surely you see what your father sees. Losing will accomplish the same that winning would. They’re going to kill you, Adrian Ford. And when they kill the favorite son of the Reach, it will start a revolution. Victor or martyr, your father gets his war.”

His words wash over me in waves. Briefly, I imagine Daddy sitting at his desk, swirling his drink, accepting my death like the first piece in his great game. It hits so hard and so deep that I realize it’s the only thing I have no defense against. I’ve built walls for every other threat. Everything but him. Then I remember who I’m speaking with.

“A clever lie,” I reply. “Like I’d ever believe one of their gods.”