The courtyard transforms into something sacred as twilight descends. Torches flicker along ancient stone walls, casting shadows across gathered faces. The marking ceremony awaits.

“You did well today,” Mira says, squeezing my arm warmly. “Better than well. You were absolutely magnificent out there in the arena.”

“Thanks to luck and desperation,” I reply, scanning the crowd carefully. “Mostly desperation, if I’m being completely honest about things.”

“Don’t diminish what you accomplished,” Finn adds, appearing at my other side with a grin. “Half these people couldn’t believe their eyes watching you. You’ve earned your place here fairly.”

“Have I though?” I gesture toward where Venna stands among senior warriors. “She doesn’t seem convinced at all. Look at how she’s watching me—like prey she’s already caught.”

“Venna’s always planning something terrible,” Mira admits quietly, glancing over nervously. “But the tournament is over now. Even she has to accept the results eventually, doesn’t she?”

“She won’t.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel inside. “Draven warned me this was coming. After the ceremony, she’ll invoke her right to challenge me formally.”

Mira’s face pales visibly at my words. “He told you beforehand? And you still competed anyway, knowing what awaited you?”

“What choice did I have? Run away and prove I’m the coward she thinks I am? I’d rather fight.”

“Steady,” Aspis murmurs through our bond, her voice warm and reassuring in my mind. “Your heart races too fast. Remember what we practiced together. Breathe slowly and deeply.”

“I’m trying,” I respond silently. “It’s harder when she’s staring at me like that constantly.”

“Then don’t look at her. Focus on me instead. On our connection. On what we share together.”

Finn’s expression grows deadly serious now. “I’ve known Venna longer than either of you. She doesn’t fight fair—never has. I’ve seen what she does to rivals who embarrass her publicly.”

“What does she do to them?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

“They disappear. Or wish they had afterward.” He meets my eyes with grim intensity. “Whatever happens tonight, don’t hold back. She certainly won’t show any restraint.”

“I understand. Thank you for the warning, Finn.”

Draven emerges from the main hall, his presence commanding immediate attention from everyone gathered. The crowd parts before him like water. Khaira’s shadow passes overhead, the great black dragon settling on the rooftop.

Our eyes meet briefly across the courtyard. He knows what I’m hiding in his quarters right now. He knows exactly what I am. The only question remaining is whether I’m worth the considerable risk of keeping.

“Tonight we gather to welcome those who proved themselves worthy,” Draven announces formally. “The marking ceremony begins now.”

My heart hammers against my ribs painfully. This is the moment everything changes forever.

“She’s moving,” Aspis warns urgently. “I feel your tension spiking through our bond. The challenge comes now, exactly as we expected.”

“I know. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Are you truly ready?”

“No. But I’ll pretend convincingly enough.”

Venna breaks from the crowd, boots striking stone with deliberate menacing purpose. Firelight transforms her smile into something cruel and sharp.

“Wait.” Her voice cuts through ceremonial silence like a blade. “Before we proceed, I invoke the ancient right of challenge against this outsider.”

Shocked murmurs ripple through the assembly. Warriors exchange startled glances, hands drifting toward sword hilts instinctively.

“The houseless woman has not proven herself worthy to stand among us,” Venna declares loudly. “I challenge her to single combat—let her defend her place or be cast out as the pretender she truly is.”

I force my breathing to stay even and controlled. This was always coming inevitably. Draven warned me clearly. I prepared mentally for this exact moment. It doesn’t get any easier, though.

“The challenge is valid under our laws,” Draven announces coldly. “Combat will proceed as tradition demands.”

“This is wrong, brother,” Riven protests, stepping forward boldly. Gratitude warms my chest, even if I know it’s fruitless. “She won the tournament by your own judgment—”

Draven silences him with a single sharp look. “She earned her place in the tournament. Now she earns her place in this house through blood. That is our way.”

I search Draven’s face for any sign of concern. Nothing shows—but I remember what he said on the beach that night. Win, and we’ll discuss what comes next. Lose, and you’ll be dead by sunrise.

“Good,” Aspis growls fiercely. “Make her angry. Angry opponents make fatal mistakes.”

“Let them see,” she whispers fiercely. “What we are together. What we’ve become.”

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