Finally, far at the end sits the Chief Architect, who stares down at the maze with an expressionless face.

I stare at her for a moment. As her head turns in my direction, her deep-set eyes flicker to mine, holding my gaze for a heartbeat. Then she looks away again.

The arena is rowdy and restless, eager for the game to begin. Everyone wants to see for themselves just how good Strikers are at killing monsters. My stomach turns as I look at the people chanting for the event to begin. But even as I do, I can see unsettled glances passing between some of the people, whispers that are drowned out behind a chorus of cheers. Not everyone is here to enjoy it.

How many here are a part of the rebellion?

My eyes shift toward the gates leading to where the Strikers are being kept. I think I see a glimpse of sapphire coats. Have they been given back some of their gear too? Has the Premier seen to it that the audience will get to see a show as authentic as if they were all out on the warfront?

As if he felt the shift of my emotions at the sight of the gates, Constantine tilts his head slightly at me. “Don’t despair, Talin,” he says. “Your friends will get a fighting chance. That’s the point of it, after all.”

The point of it. The sickening fear roiling in my stomach makes way for my usual anger, and I scowl back at him. Maybe the tonic that Raina had given me has already done its work, because I don’t feel the strength of his satisfaction in return.

You’re one to talk about fairness, I answer.

Fairness? He shakes his head. You think any of this is fair?

It’s not quite the answer I’d expected from him.

At my pause, a small smile drifts across Constantine’s lips. The dark stripe down his face is freshly black and shines under the light—and in spite of Raina’s continued efforts to weaken him, he still cuts a terrifying figure. They have a chance because this is meant to entertain. But it isn’t fair, Talin. If it were fair, I would give them an opportunity to escape.

I narrow my eyes at him. You could, of course. You just won’t.

If only the world were fair, Constantine replies. But no one wants that. They just want it to be fair for them.

There is a note of some bitterness in those words, an old wound from somewhere long ago.

And there, beyond the steady link I have with Constantine, is a tug I know all too well.

I know better than to react, immediately tampering down my emotions in an attempt to keep my realization from the Premier. Raina’s tonic must have helped too. As I do, I look out into the audience of the arena, my eyes resting instinctively on where I think the pull is coming from.

Red is here.