He walked toward her, light on his feet despite the knife in his back and the trail of his blood following him. They watched each other as they moved, each step, each minute shift in weight deliberate and calculated.

Sophie, the ruler of her planet and George’s wife, once told me that she lived for the moment just before the clash, when both she and her opponent knew their lives hung in the balance. It was a world of possibilities, an infinite universe that shrunk to a single strike as soon as they moved. I finally understood what she meant.

Prysen Ol struck, a human blur too fast for the eye to follow. Lady Wexyn swept by him. They took a few steps past each other. She held his sword in her hand. Prysen Ol held nothing. A deep red line crossed his throat. His eyes turned glassy. He stumbled and collapsed.

Behind me in the second row of the observer section, the First Scholar let out a scream of pure anguish.

Lady Wexyn turned to the Sovereign. “Are you satisfied with the fulfillment of our contract, Letero?”

“Yes,” Kosandion said.

Lady Wexyn smiled.

“And that’s a wrap!” Gaston emerged onto the stage. “Please join us tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to the greatest spousal selection in the galaxy!”

He bowed.

Lady Wexyn sashayed toward her section. I dropped both Prysen Ol and Amphie through the floor right into the medward.

* * *

The screen in front of me showed Klook, one of the First Scholar’s two disciples. They looked almost identical, but the tips of Klook’s feathers had a slightly more pronounced pink tint.

“The First Scholar would like to inquire…”

“Would you like to see him?” I asked.

Klook disappeared, shoved out of the way, and the First Scholar replaced him on the screen, with his feathers in disarray and his eyes ringed by red, a sign of a koo-ko in acute distress. “I’m coming!”

I opened the door to his quarters and made a child-slide-style chute in the floor. A few seconds later, the First Scholar fell out of the medward’s ceiling, spread his wings, and glided to a landing by me.

I turned. In front of me, two square cells sat side by side with six feet of space between them. The back wall of each cell was reinforced concrete with a space-hull-grade titanium overlay, while the other three sides were transparent plastisteel. The center of each cell housed a med unit. The left one held Amphie, the right Prysen Ol. Both patients were sedated.

I had sealed off the werewolf in her own quarters. She was mostly sleeping, as her body did its best to heal. Occasionally she would wake up long enough to eat, and then she fell asleep again. Sean had visited her. They spoke for about an hour, after which she slept for 14 hours straight.

The First Scholar peered at Prysen’s relaxed face.