Mayor Elland had loved Constantine’s mother. Had been in love. And then she had seen Queen Darea die in childbirth.

“She loved Constantine, as any mother would,” she went on. “But there was a deep sadness in her. She knew that Constantine would become his father, take his place.” She took a deep breath. “On her deathbed, as I sat by her side, she asked me to promise her that I would find a way to take this all down. All the things that had destroyed her world. Her past. Her family. Her childhood.”

Promise me. I can almost hear the whisper suspended in the air. I think of the flash of memory I’d seen from Constantine in the greenhouse, of him as a child, peeking into the chamber at his dying mother holding the hand of a richly dressed woman. That had been the young Mayor Elland.

This is why the mayor spares a bit of pity for Constantine. For the boy that is no longer.

I suppose even monsters were children once.

“That’s why I’m here,” she says to me now. “Because I have a heart. Because action without heart is meaningless.” She leans toward me. “Protect your heart, Talin. It is good to grieve, to hurt for others, to care. If we don’t, then all is lost anyway.”

The third bit of news that arrives today comes shortly after I return to the palace. When a guard peeks in to escort me to the Premier, I can already sense that something has gone wrong. The guard murmurs the update to me.

Two Strikers have escaped from the arena and a lone soldier has been found dead, curiously separated from the rest of his patrol when he shouldn’t have been. Today’s game has been canceled.

So Red and Jeran made their move. And Adena and Aramin are free.

The four of them are now somewhere in the city. Unshackled and poised to strike.

The mix of emotions this brings threatens to shatter my defenses—relief, fear, disbelief. I want to reach out to Red, to make sure they’re all okay, but the worry that Constantine will know keeps me in check. At least I can still feel the distant rhythm of Red’s heartbeat. He’s alive. Maybe that means the others are too.

I clamp down my emotions as best as I can as I head to the main atrium to meet Constantine, but today my protective walls are shaky. My fear is channeling through our link, strengthening the bond between us with its ruthless and insidious tendrils, forcing me to open my heart to him.

He might have been in a bad state last night, but today his mood is calm again. However, it’s the kind of mood that I fear the most from him—the still surface over a deep anger. Dark circles rim the bottom of his eyes. He must not have slept at all after our confrontation, and even behind the security of his vicious black band of paint, exhaustion highlights the sickly paleness of his face this morning.