He moved toward her, hands still bound.

“I told you not to come,” she said, her voice thick.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” he responded. He didn’t look at her. His humor was empty. Nearly at the coliseum’s center, he stopped and knelt on the sand.

What had they done to him? While the two primary ligaments of his dark, angelic wings remained on either side, grisly slashes had torn through their connective tissues and membranes. The blood that plastered his feathers together had dried, informing her that this had been an atrocity committed during the night. His hands were tied with rope like that of Amaris’s former constraints, and his left upper cheek was purpling with bruises. This was the man who had held a knife to her throat in the forest to defend his soldier. This was the general who had fought for his king, knowing the risk every day. This fae warrior knew no fear. He had fallen to his knees before her now.

Amaris ran to him, cutting his bound hands free with the sword. The action won her no favors from the jeering crowd, but nothing she could do on the goddess’s lighted earth would have pleased the queen or Aubade’s deceived people.

He didn’t look up as he said, “You have to kill me.”

He wasn’t regretful, accusatory, or frightened. The resolution in his voice was both calm and absolute.

“Gad—” She recoiled from his words as the ropes fell onto the sand below him.

Still, he did not look at her, and now she understood why. The task expected of her would be nearly impossible if she had to look into his eyes. The general offered her an olive branch to dehumanize himself, to spare her own soul. He had knelt before no one. He feared nothing. Yet here he was, on his knees.

“They see a demon, and you know it. If you spare me as an ag’imni, they will kill you. You’re worth so much more to this continent alive, Amaris. Do it now.”

Gadriel kept his head lowered, not to show his fear but to give her a clean blow to the back of his neck. It was an act of kindness.

“Gadriel—”

“Do it, Amaris,” he commanded. He gritted his teeth between his words. “I die, or we both die. However you slice it, I’m not making it out of here alive,” he said. His great, shredded wings folded tightly behind him as he spoke.

Anger surged through her. She grabbed him roughly by the arm, hoisting him inelegantly to his feet.

“Shut up unless you’re going to say something useful.”

“Amaris—” His eyes lifted to hers, their gaze touching as he resisted.

“I said shut it. And you never call me by my right name. Don’t bother starting now.”