The crowd gasps.

I’m on my feet in an instant, but so is Valentino. He wipes sand from his silk tunic.

“You’re fast,” he says.

“You too. Almost got me.”

“You’ve had training,” he accuses.

“Maybe as much as you.”

He whirls his ax again, eyes narrowed. There’s nothing more dangerous than an opponent who thinks, Elisa always says.

I have to end this soon, on the off chance that the son of Elisa’s most powerful rival really is trying to kill me. He’s bigger and stronger, and I can’t dodge every blow, even with all my training.

Valentino shifts the ax into his right hand only, leaving his left hand free. He’s about to try a feint, see if he can trick me into dodging into his blow. It’s what I’d do.

He sweeps toward my head with the ax, enticing me to dodge right, but his other shoulder is priming to ambush me with a punch.

I duck down and slightly left, barely missing the ax blade. While his torso twists into his useless swing, I dart forward and slam my elbow into his kidney.

His flank is soft with surprise. My elbow hits harder than I expect, and he crumples to the sand.

Valentino struggles to find his feet, but I dash forward and stomp on his wrist. His fingers release the ax handle. Quick as a blink, I grab the ax and scurry out of reach.

I give the weapon an experimental swing, watching as Valentino manages to get his knees beneath him. The weapon is even heavier than I anticipated.

I advance on him, trying to figure out a way to draw blood and end the match without hurting him too much more, but DeLuca says, “Halt!”

The arena is as still as night. I just defeated a young man twice my size, disarming him in the process, but no applause or cheering greets me.

“Well,” DeLuca says. “I see a bit of Lord-Commander Hector’s fighting style in you.”

I open my mouth to tell him that Dante is Lord-Commander now, not Hector, who gave up command when his daughter was born. But I think better of correcting him.

Everyone is staring. I go to help Valentino up, the way Pedrón helped Aldo, but he waves me off. DeLuca says nothing. Valentino finally gets to his feet, but he remains bent over.

At last, a single applause sounds. A clap of pity, come too late. I glance around.

It’s Iván, Juan-Carlos’s brother, the boy who refused to fight a girl. Then Aldo joins him, grinning ear to ear. A few other recruits begin to clap. And finally, distantly, comes a smattering of applause from the audience lining the edges.

But not everyone approves, and the sound fades fast, leaving us in silence once again.

“You still have a lot to learn,” DeLuca says, frowning.

“Yes, sir, I do.” And it’s true. I’ve spent so much time learning how to defend myself, how to stay alive and survive, that I know little about attacking. It’s a weakness that will become obvious to everyone soon enough.