He rolls his shoulders and then his neck, and I get the feeling he’s trying to shake the feel of me watching him.

Natalie stands nearby, ever in his shadow. When I first met them, I might have assumed it was because she liked him. Now, I know differently. It’s Natalie who meets my gaze first—fierce and indignant. She turns her head to Shy and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, it makes him look up.

His stare hurts my heart. Even at this distance, I can tell his eyes are red and glistening. The reality is, he’s been reliving Lily’s death every day since it happened, and it’s all because of me. Tonight’s just another repackaging.

He has to be sick of me.

I look away and hold my candle to Thane. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

He nods, taking the candle. Once I’m off the field and behind the stadium, a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I reach for it and twist, coming face-to-face with a man I’ve never seen. Judging by the hard set of his jaw, he’s a guard.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say and shove him off. “Are you going to follow me?”

The answer is yes.

Except when I get to the restrooms behind the stadium, there’s an out-of-order sign posted on the women’s door. I turn to look at the guard, who raises a brow and glances at the men’s.

“I’m not going in there,” I say and stalk toward Emerson. The knight remains behind me, silent. I don’t like having him at my back; something about it feels wrong. Then I see red eyes ignite in the dark—my hellhounds are here, and their low growl causes me to slow. When I turn, the shadow knight attacks, striking me across the face. I stumble, and he draws his scythe just as one of my hounds rushes forward, vaulting over my head.

The knight shoves his scythe into the dog’s eye. It yelps, and the sound freezes my blood. I can feel my other four hounds fall into formation behind me. I’ve come to sense their presence just as I sense Shy’s.

“Stop!” I yell as the knight continues to stab my hound until it no longer moves. The knight straightens, breathing hard, and my other hounds let out a chorus of growls, the blood of their brother covering his weapon and hands.

“They told me you were a good fighter, Eurydice. No one said you let your hounds fight for you.”

I clench my fist, and his eyes narrow on my hand.

“What are you going to do? Steal my soul and call it self-defense?”