Eris held out her hand. Nyx placed the warm metal band in the middle of the other woman’s palm. Nyx felt the weight of the simple, circular jewel—the cut blue stone that signified the highest honor among the royal guard, those who scored the best marks during training. The ones who earned the right to defend the Archon personally.

Then she tipped the heavy silver band to see the underside, and Nyx heard Eris’s breath catch. The tally marks on the underside were so small, she’d need a magnifying glass to count them all. They stretched across the entire circumference of the band, leaving no space at all. Whoever set them into the metal was forced to continue the marks to the outside of the band, circling all the way around to the edges of the stone.

Each single line signified an execution Nyx made during combat missions while training. Each one was a mark of courage, a sacrifice made to appease the God of Death, a ravenous, demanding God.

There were more tallies on that ring than thorns tattooed on Nyx’s skin. If the Archon wanted a mercenary to kill in secret—to assassinate high-ranking officials or spies—then a guard did not mark their skin with the proof of that death. They carved it into metal that circled a finger like a yoke.

“I see,” Eris breathed.

Few had seen Nyx’s ring this close. Rhea and Ariadne didn’t know what it meant—wouldn’t think to search for that secret message of even more kills than the tale of her skin told.

“They couldn’t fit them all,” Nyx almost whispered the confession. She took out the second ring.

Eris swallowed, plucking it gently from Nyx’s scarred palm. This time, the tally marks took up half of the band. On the outside was etched Hear me, O Death. I kill for Thee.

“When I took these rings, I was sure,” Nyx said. “I was so sure.”

Eris didn’t ask, simply waited.

“I’d trained my whole life, but I was eleven on my first mission. People don’t suspect a child. I made my first kill, earned my first thorn. I’d believed everything they’d told us, all they’d coded into our DNA. I was so sure that our war was right and every planet in the universe ought to belong to us. I believed every species not our own deserved to die.” Nyx took the rings back. “So, I can’t atone for these. I can remove the tattoos, throw these rings into space, but it won’t undo these deaths. Some of us don’t deserve second chances.”

“I’m not asking you to atone,” Eris said. “I’m asking you for your help.”

Nyx met her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I believe in second chances, even if you don’t.”

Nyx didn’t look away.