It took the Widow Stone a week to come up with the right magic to get passed the wards, but even then, she wasn’t certain that it would work, since the captain was so powerful.

  Gray thought about waiting until the captain returned, but there was no guarantee she’d come back any time soon. She said she’d only be back in a month if all went well. It was pretty apparent that things weren’t going well, seven weeks later.

  That was as worrying as the widow’s preoccupation with his simple stick. She’d wanted to keep both the stick and the red scarf, noting that his very presence had given the stick a surprisingly amount of mana. He couldn’t craft manabound items consciously, and he ended up joking he might end up making magical swords by sleeping with one tucked under his pillow.

  The Widow had smiled at the joke but hadn’t discounted the idea.

  In the end, she handed him the stick and the scarf and wished him luck. When it was time to call in her favor, she knew where to find him. Gray figured it would be at the worst possible time and the favor would be more than just an annoyance. Given the chaos in Pit City, it just might kill him.

  He went back to Third Barracks and used the stick to kill a big scorpion on the floor before leaning the it against the wall. The scarf was tied around the top. The wood glowed yellow. The scarf glowed purple, touched by the red and blue magic of the Widow.

  Rynn wasn’t there. Since their kiss, she’d spent most of her evenings in the little library at the base of the pink palace. Gray hadn’t been there yet, but he planned on seeing it once he and Rynn got used to sleeping apart. If he could break through the captain’s wards…

  Rynn was far quieter than usual, and though they trained together every day—ran, sparred, and meditated—she had pulled back.

  It hurt. And yet, it was probably for the best. They could be squad mates, good friends even, but they couldn’t be partners, not in the way they wanted. If she couldn’t bend the rules to leave Third Barracks, as wretched as it was, he didn’t see much of a future for their relationship.

  Rynn came in and curtsied, rather formally. “Hello, Grayson Fade. You’re back already. Did you try to get passed the wards?”

  “No,” he said, his heart sad she didn’t call him by his special name. He was no longer Mr. No, and she was no longer Miss Yes. Everything had changed.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to check in with you before I left for the night. I’ll be back for breakfast in the morning, since here won’t be any food in the manor.”

  “What does your dog eat?”

  “Like I said before, I’m pretty sure Yellow eats demons.” Gray picked up the stick and waved the scarf. “And here is my weapon. Very colorful, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so,” Rynn said with a sigh. She turned away and sat down. Sweating already in the stale air of the enclosed room, she fanned herself with the same white, flowery fan they’d used to collect the magic of his kiss with the captain. The Widow had surprised them both by giving it to her. “You don’t have to come back for breakfast, Grayson. I’ll be just fine.”

  Above, someone stomped around, and outside, there was screaming. The orcs mostly honored the quiet hours but no one else in the Barracks did.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I could try to break through the wards tomorrow night, if you’d want me to stay.”

  “Yes, you could try it tomorrow night, but I would imagine you’re as curious as I am. If you don’t come back, I’ll assume it worked. If you don’t come back at all, I’ll know that Old Town is just as lethal as everyone claims.”

  That made him laugh. “The house is warded. Besides, you’ve helped me to become a very good fighter. Lastly, I will have my stick, which now has mana.” He explained what the Widow had told him.

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  The grin spreading Rynn’s lips was simply too cute for words. It was crooked and amazed and full of a sudden love for him. “I knew your core was very large. Isn’t that what every boy longs to hear?”

  “In Cradleport, that means something completely different. Thank you for being the very best and prettiest roommate I’ve ever had.”

  The smile was gone and her eyes cooled. “I’m glad that I’m prettier than your typical gladiator. Go. You’re losing the light.”

  Since it was summer, the days were abnormally long, and so even though it was late, there was still sunshine.

  “Goodbye, Rynnanatha Sereph.”

  “Goodbye, Grayson Fade.”

  He left her, thinking he might be making a mistake. Was the heat, the noise, and the scorpions so bad?

  Yes, but being with Rynn for all those weeks had made it a kind of paradise.

  No. He couldn’t think like that. He was living his life the best way he knew how. Besides, he might be losing a girl, but he was gaining a dog. He’d heard any number of jokes about that in the Arena Market. Divorce wasn’t uncommon among the simple folk in Cradleport, and it seemed once people broke up their marriages, they spent a great deal of time talking about the partner they’d left behind. The line between love and hate seemed to be made entirely of words, which made it the thinnest line imaginable.

  Gray hurried to the front gate and told the guards— the Fieldkeepers—that he didn’t plan on coming back that night. They didn’t care a bit.

  Then, he hurried back to that alleyway. Part of him thought that Rynn would’ve wanted to come to make sure he didn’t kill himself, but then, she was worried about what the captain would say. She couldn’t jeopardize her place on the squad. Her family was counting on her.

  Striding through the market, he saw the slight woman with the black hair and violet eyes, eating sugar worms, watching him closely. It was the same old thing with her.

  Any other night, he would’ve gone over to her, struck up a conversation, and got her story. He figured given her presence in the market, and her petite body, she was some urchin or cutpurse. But she didn’t stick to the shadows. She was always out in the open, as if daring someone to mess with her.

  Gods, it was hot, and even though the sun was setting, it seemed to curse them all with as much heat as possible before night came, but even then, there weren’t any sea winds to bring relief. It was stifling heat, constant and merciless. He had a waterskin with him, a quick purchase, as well as some nuts, dried fruit, and dried meat for dinner. They were in a satchel he’d purchased for the occasion.

  With supplies at his side, Gray walked down the alley. “All right, Settie. Let’s get through your wards. I’ve sacrificed my time and a relationship with a very pretty elf girl to make this happen. So let’s get on with it.”

  He felt the pressure immediately, repulsing him, and the buzzing started. But this time, he felt the energy bend a bit, especially around the stick. He put it out in front of him, pushing it like he would push a cart. He drove himself forward, even though it hurt his ears, his head, the pressure blinding. Would the headaches be too much for him? If every time he passed through the wards, he got a blinding migraine, he’d stick with the scorpions.

  He felt the mana pushing against him, and not just against his body, but against his core. He was within a few feet of the sigils glowing on the stone of the hidden doorway. He’d never made it that far, and he was glad to see that his nose wasn’t bleeding.

  The runes gleamed yellow, but then, the air around him was a mist of yellow energy, that he was breathing in. The world vibrated. Looking down, he saw his stick and the scarf were purple, but the closer he got, the less his magic items glowed purple. It was dimming, and he couldn’t have that. Instinctively, he tried to push some energy from his mana into his stick, which had become so comfortable in his hands. He couldn’t charge bloodless blades, so he didn’t think it would work, but it did, only he knew, somehow, it wasn’t his energy he was pushing into it but the captain’s. Like the widow had said—his core was crippled. However, Widow Stone’s magic was powerful, and it was allowing him to do something he shouldn’t have been able to do.

  Suddenly, he inhaled, and smelled the captain’s scent. It smelled so good, and was oddly comforting. He’d smelled her, day after day, drifting in and out of consciousness for a year, and then, when he was awake, as she guided him around the strange world, her perfume had been his constant companion.

  The stick and scarf gleamed a brighter purple.

  Gray pushed on, touched the runes, and suddenly, they were gone, as was the pressure.

  The ward was still there, though, because he could see the distortion field behind him.

  He’d made it through, and he was fine, but he knew that it was only because he’d used the remnants of the energy that the captain had given him. Or maybe it was because she’d ignited his core and he’d be forever tied to her.

  Either way, Gray was through. He touched the door, and yes, it swung open. He hurried inside, lit a candle with a matchstick, and then closed the door. Most people didn’t need matchsticks because they had mana, but he wasn’t most people.

  The familiar steps down were there, but he didn’t remember the hallway being so dark.

  Was he really going to return to the demon-haunted Old Town on the edge of hell itself?

  Yes, even if he had to fight his way through the darkness and whatever else lurked there.