The stench of wood smoke now drifted into the palace. Triton had just altered his shape, flying from the terrace in the form of a dragon. Kargan had left the palace by the front, several hastily gathered soldiers in tow.

Chloe still hadn’t moved a muscle. She stood in front of Solon’s throne. The men who guarded the audience chamber were in disarray: some out on the terrace watching the harbor fire, others running with courtiers in the same direction as Kargan, and the remaining few uncertain, milling around without orders. Solon was in the midst of a coughing fit. A single guard held Chloe’s arm twisted behind her back. The second man in her escort stood nearby, his mouth open and brow furrowed as he wondered what to do.

Tomarys suddenly spoke in Chloe’s mind, as clearly as if he were standing right next to her.

‘Winning means choosing the right moment. You want your enemies to be distracted. Then, when you take action, be bold. Be strong. Be confident. Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.’

Chloe let her body continue to be limp as she drew in a slow, steadying breath. She closed her eyes and opened them. She resisted the urge to try to move in order to test the strength of the guard’s arm lock.

‘The key is to use surprise. You are a woman, and surprise is your main strength, for they will not be expecting you to have any skill or power.’

Chloe felt her chest rise and fall and fought to keep her breath even. Blood roared in her ears. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

She allowed rage to feed her and clamp down on the fear. She wondered which of the palace guards had cut off Princess Yasmina’s ears and nose. How many had worked together to behead the girl? Who had held the whip as Tomarys was flayed? Which of them had followed Solon’s orders to impale the big man, piercing a sharp wooden stake through his guts? She wondered if it even mattered – all of them would follow Solon’s orders if he asked them to do the same thing to her.

Chloe imagined she was once more practicing with Tomarys in the arena. She felt his arms around her as he made his demonstrations. She remembered her own practice. She knew she couldn’t hesitate; she had to get the move right, and get it right first time.

‘Thank you, Tomarys,’ she whispered.

‘What did you say?’ the guard snarled.

When she moved, Chloe put every bit of strength she possessed into the spin. She sent breath whistling out of her chest in one swift gust, grunting and making a savage cry she had never heard come out of her own lips.