He turned then attacked in a swift deadly whirl. She knew he had expected to strike her down and finish the contest in one blow. But she had already folded behind him out of reach. He turned again and slashed toward her in a mind-bending array of slices and thrusts.

The battle was on.

For the first minute she heard the madness of the cheering, growling, stomping, screaming crowd. Not long after, however, everything disappeared from her awareness except Leto, his sword and his movements. She saw only him. She immersed herself in learning the subtlety of his signals as she made use of her real weapon—her ability to anticipate—just as Kerrick had taught her.

The only strategy she could compose at this point was defensive in nature against so seasoned a warrior. He was a powerful man, yet he could be struck down for good if she let him taste her sword. She understood the power of the blade, the burn, the sharpness of the slice of Second Earth weaponry. She didn’t know how they were fashioned but she knew they cut like the infamous samurai swords.

He moved as quickly as Kerrick. He kept her hopping and folding. After a few minutes, she realized he had settled on his strategy. He was physically more powerful with profound endurance and he meant to wear her down. Simple as that.

She had no doubt he could succeed. Though she was able to match his skill, he would outlast her.

Fifteen minutes into the battle, a bell sounded.

Leto drew back and bowed to her. He turned around and headed to his white diamond, in the Commander’s direction.

Alison waited before changing course. She reached out for his intention. What came back to her was only his need for water.

Assured he would not attack, she turned around to face the applause of Endelle’s contingent. Havily brought her a goblet, which contained Gatorade, thank God. She drank slowly, savoring.

“Be quick, ascendiate Wells. The break is only thirty seconds long.”

Oh, God.

She sucked down the remaining drink.

The bell sounded.

She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. She turned and Leto was already on her. She had a fraction of a second to fold out of the way, but just before she did she touched her sword to the back of his leg. He stumbled and fell forward. Blood gushed from a long and very deep slice.

She had cut him.

She had cut him.

Her stomach rolled. She brought her sword up, preparing for him to rise in a blur of movement and assault her again. Instead he flipped over but remained sitting, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Now he waited for her to make the next move.

Why?

She glanced down at the mats. Blood poured from the wound, forming a glossy lake beneath his leg. He set his sword beside him and put both hands on the wound.

Holy shit! Had she just severed his hamstring? Oh, my God, she had, which meant she could finish the contest right this moment, right now.

A cheer rose up from Endelle’s faction along with a cry to finish him. He continued to stare up at her, his expression intense.

Of course. He was healing his leg.

Finish him. Her gaze shot to Endelle, whose voice had pierced her head. Finish him, ascendiate. You have the chance. Finish him now.

Alison had a choice to make. She could simplify her life right now by taking out a key player in the war, by obliging Endelle, by making thousands of Militia Warriors happy.

There was just one problem.

She wasn’t a warrior. She had chosen a healing profession as her life’s work. She had a pacifist’s soul and an antipathy toward causing pain of any kind, even if deserved. To take Leto’s life went against the depths of her character.

She had therefore only one recourse. She backed away from him.

The crowd went into a frenzy of screaming, at least those who wanted Leto dead. Endelle’s faction shouted vile things at her and booed her. They wanted a kill and they wanted it now. As so many times before since she began her rite of ascension, ancient Rome came to mind.

The knowledge of the crowd’s gruesome expectation made her furious all over again. This was Second Earth?

She kept backing away. She shook her head back and forth. She couldn’t kill him even though she knew he wouldn’t show this kind of mercy toward her. The way her arm shook even now, even at the beginning of such an engagement, all he had to do was wear her down and he would succeed in his objective.

A bell sounded. Leto actually stood up and walked to his diamond amid cheers from the Commander’s faction. He had healed his leg. The vampire had power.

Alison moved back to her place, her mind disordered. Given the strength of her convictions, she thought it likely she wouldn’t make it out alive. That she had been able to inflict so severe a cut had been a piece of luck, nothing more. No doubt Leto knew it as well, and he wouldn’t make a similar mistake.

Havily gave her the goblet. As she drank, she set her gaze on Leto. How on earth was she going to defeat him if she was unwilling to harm him?

When the bell sounded again, Leto charged forward, faster than before.

Her act of grace had awakened a demon.

He moved so fast she barely saw him. She fought with all the skill she could muster, streaming Kerrick’s battle images in a constant flow through her mind so that her arms, her legs, every joint of her body knew how to respond, but truthfully what did she have left to withstand this superb, powerful warrior?

From then on, Leto pressed his advantage hard. He used his physical strength to force her into larger and larger movements. As minute piled upon minute, her breathing grew labored and her muscles grew heavy and overworked. At this rate, she wouldn’t last much longer.

The bell sounded.

She received her goblet from Havily and sucked the Gatorade down as though she had been walking through the desert for hours. Sweat poured off her body and she cursed the person who had put her in all this leather.

She was barely refreshed and her breathing hadn’t calmed at all before Leto was on her again. As her ankles grew heavy, Alison’s courage faltered.

Kerrick’s voice and words shot into her head. Use your wits. Think. You can beat him.

His presence had an effect, strengthening her weakened muscles and reflexes as well as her spirit.

Watch him. See how anxious he is to defeat you? Use it against him.

A light went on and her courage returned.

From that moment forward, she began to plan. Though she had an aversion to hurting the man so willing to kill her, there might be another way to finish the battle. She knew humiliation fired him and perhaps would also make him reckless.

“Leto,” she said quietly. Again she could hear her voice amplified throughout the arena.

He scowled and struck harder.

She lifted her sword in answering blows. “You must know by now I won’t take your life.”

“Then you’re a fool!” he shouted, his voice also echoing to the rafters, his sword slashing.

“You must tell me which you prefer, to end this civilly or to be humiliated in front of the Commander and his army.”

These words enraged him. He thrust hard and wild. She had her answer.

She dodged, folded, leaped into the air. His ire overtook his sense. She saw her opportunity.

She leaped again, rolled over his shoulders, caught his sword arm with a deadly slice, and removed it at the elbow. He fell on his stomach, his sword sliding with his arm. He tried to regain his feet, but she laid a shield over his body and set her foot on his neck. Blood pumped from the wound with every quick beat of his heart. He pinched his lips together in a taut line. His face paled.

She glared at the opposition. Silence and horror returned to her. From Endelle’s ranks behind her, a “death” chant began. She felt the blood of the combined warriors rise up. She heard their shouts of triumph as they called for Leto’s death, the traitor’s death.

She knew they had lost innumerable comrades in the many battles they had endured. She understood their hatred of the enemy. Regardless, she couldn’t take this warrior’s life. Everything within her rebelled at the idea.

She was not a warrior.

She touched Leto’s mind. I know you wish for your death, but I refuse to give it to you.

I am proud to die as a warrior. Nothing less will answer. Finish this.

She sank deeper into his mind, doing what Kerrick had called mind-diving, the deep form of engagement that would allow her inside his head, to see his thoughts, his memories. She expected resistance only to find he had released his shields … as though he wanted her to know.

She saw his life. She saw the family he had lost to a squad of death vampires, night-feeders who had been stalking ascenders instead of pillaging humans on Mortal Earth. She saw his level of rage, something she had seen in Kerrick before the battle. She found another smaller shield, a very powerful shield, and pressed. In slow stages, the shield gave way and she saw the truth that could not be told. Oh, God, Leto was a double agent! She forged an instant mental shield around Leto’s mind and her own. She felt other entities pummeling to get in, and knew she had a mere second to absorb this truth. She gasped.

Oh, God, Leto. What am I to do now?

Keep your silence.

Done.

She released him, tears in her eyes.

She took her foot off his neck but kept the pinning shield in place. Blood pumped steadily from the vein of his arm. He would die soon anyway from blood loss if she didn’t do something. She moved swiftly, knowing that if she saved him, he would still be forced to attack her, despite what she had just learned about him.

Too bad.

She lifted her hand and stared into Leto’s eyes. Hold on … we’re going for a ride.

You can’t fold out of here. Shields everywhere.

Not gonna fold.

She thought the thought. She snatched this small pocket of time and the two of them went through a whirlwind until she rolled back over his shoulder the opposite direction and stood on the other side of him, his sword raised, though frozen in place high overhead. “What the fuck?” he cried, his voice sounding through the arena.

The resulting power rippled in a circle outward, and just as had happened in her office, a sonic boom sounded. Again, in slow waves, the majority of the arena spectators began to cheer and applaud, wild cries that grew louder and louder at her unexpected exhibition.