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going down, I’ll just cast some smoke and yell ‘fire!’” Drina said, bumping his hip affectionately with hers.

Sam winced, but he smiled through it. As it turned out, when he was confident that he wasn’t going to get killed in a fight, something strange and magical happened. It felt like joy and anger all at once. His blood was singing and he just felt so alive. And he had his crew with him to experience it. It was a perfect moment, one that he would remember for the rest of his life.

“And, hey, if you win, I’ll let you test my gag reflex later.”

“Drina!” Rosin shrieked.

“What?!”

Sam laughed and threw his arm around Mattie, sharing a look that was part happiness, part hunger. Maybe this sensation was what Hilda was always going on about—bloodlust. At the mention of a tryst later, something beastly inside of him bared a wicked set of fangs and slavered for the sound of metal on metal, the feeling of the sand giving way under his feet, the smell of sweat, the sound of a battle cry. He wanted to fight. He wanted to win.

Hilda sat on a raised dais, a referee chair propped behind her. Sam hadn’t seen her sit in it yet. She was too busy pacing, jumping, howling with excitement whenever somebody landed a hit. Now, at the final match, with the dark hour moon shining silver through the overhead sky grate, she looked positively rabid. Despite her microphone getting shattered during the third round of fights, Hilda’s commanding voice didn’t suffer for it. Her menacing tenor thundered across the arena.

“Warriors!” She howled. “Tonight, we feast on the flesh of our enemies! To battle!”

“Do you think she’s having flashbacks?” Mattie muttered.

“Do you think she should be the referee? I’m entirely certain there is something very wrong with her.”

“Yes to both of those questions.” Drina cocked her head and smiled. She turned fully to Sam and without warning, kissed him full on the mouth, sliding her tongue past his lips. He was ravenous for her, for all of them. The three of them would need to sit on ice packs tomorrow.

When Drina released him, Rosin stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but that wasn’t enough for him, so he threaded his fingers through her pretty hair and kissed her like he might never see her again. Rosin gasped and blushed, but she melted into him like ice all the same.

When Sam released her, he turned to Mattie and she gave him a wolfish grin before cocking her finger at him. When their lips met, he poured every ounce of love into her that he had, pressing it into her until they were both breathless.

“Kick his ass, love,” she muttered against his lips.

Sam smirked, took a final kiss for good luck, then turned to his opponent.

Delcan was already waiting for him, his sword glinting sharply in the light of the moon and the fires illuminating the arena walls. The claps and the cheers from the crowd quickly turned into a rhythmic thumping like a rapid heartbeat. Like a war drum.

Sam pushed his tangled hair from his face, and as he walked to the middle of the arena, he scanned Delcan from head to toe, looking for spaces between his leather armor, looking for weaknesses.

“What are you heathens waiting for?!” Hilda shouted, “Fight! Suck his soul from his body! Let the Gods fear you on this night! Battle to the death!”

Sam brought his sword to his hip and rushed Delcan, a shout clawing at his throat and spilling into the air as a roar.

Delcan feigned and there was a flash of silver in Sam’s eyes, but his sword was blocking the swing before his mind could comprehend that it was a swing to begin with. Delcan swept his sword to the side and it glanced off Sam’s shoulder. Sam winced but absorbed the hit and struck Delcan in the side of the neck. Delcan stumbled to the side and Sam pressed on, sand flying from under his feet.

If Sam could just get under his guard, he had a chance to win this quickly, but Delcan was admittedly a great defensive fighter. If Sam could just slide underneath his legs…but no, he’s done that before already. He would have to take a hit that might make him lose the match altogether if he didn't time it correctly.

He could rush Delcan and Delcan could thrust forward. Sam could hit him in the stomach just as he hit Sam. Whoever made the first strike would win. Delcan went on the offensive, striking lightning quick and beating Sam back.

And then, Duncan started herding him, just like he did the first time they fought. The blonde guided Sam around the arena like a sheepdog. Every time Sam got a little ahead, Delcan would jump in front of him and force him to turn the other way.

Delcan was caging Sam in, he knew this on a logical level. He would either have to go up or down, slide under or over Delcan.

The blonde was controlling the fight. Sam needed to change that if he wanted to win, but he would need to think of something clever very quickly.

Sam ground to a halt and pivoted to face Delcan. The blonde shouted, loud, guttural, and ran at Sam with his sword raised.

The cheers rang so loudly that Sam could hear nothing but deafening applause. And then a scream pierced the air and everybody in the arena went still.

Even Delcan hesitated, his sword in midair. Everybody in the arena, students and staff alike, stared at the entry corridor.

It was happening now. Of course it was. What better time than when the entire school was distracted? Sam sprinted to the scream without thinking about it. It was the codex. He knew it his bones even though no alarms went off.

He could hear Delcan’s feet pounding in the sand behind him but he ignored him. Since Sam was already on the ground and everybody else was

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