The second night began with drums slow, deliberate, like the heartbeat of something ancient and patient.

The arena was an open pit, ringed with blackstone pillars carved into wolves with their jaws locked on their own tails. The air stank of old blood and bone dust, clinging to the back of the throat.

A hundred warriors of the Bone Court stood within, each wearing the bone mask of their clan.

Above them, the queens watched from the high gallery, pale as statues in the torchlight.

Tonight, I ...