aching need to be loved and it was screwing with my head. Sometimes, when you crave certain
feelings, you'll trick yourself into thinking the other person is something other than what he
appears. I'd played that game with Crest and gotten burned for my trouble. No, thank you. To
Curran, I offered nothing more than a willing body and a sense of satisfaction in having won. That
was reality, cold and ugly and inescapable.
Rene's hand went to her sword. I turned.
The dark-haired swordsman I had met on the observation deck during my first visit to the Games
with Saiman strode through the door. Same gray leather. Same dark cloak that put me in mind of a
warrior-monk. Same supple grace. Two men accompanied him, wearing identical cloaks. The first
was young and blond. A long scar sliced his neck. His dark eyes had the alertness of a trained killer.
The second man was older and harder. I looked into his eyes. His stare made me want to take a step
back.
Nick.
The knight-crusader. The Order prized accountability and public exposure, but some things were
too ugly, too dark, even for the knights. When one of those shadowy problems reared its head, the
Order threw a crusader at it. The crusader did the job and left town.
The Red Stalker who killed my guardian had been such a problem. It had required Nick's
involvement. Now he looked at me like he'd never seen me before. I did my best to do the same.
Whatever Nick was up to, he was obviously undercover.
The swordsman saw me. «Have we met before, my lady?»
His voice was low and gentle. He talked like a well-fed wolf in a good mood. I smiled at him. «If
we'd met, you'd know I'm not a lady.»
His eyes narrowed. «And yet you seem familiar somehow. I can't shed the feeling I have seen
you before. Perhaps we could speak someplace privately-«
«You don't have to speak to him,» Rene cut in. Her color had gone pale. She swallowed. Scared,
I realized. She was scared and she wasn't used to dealing with it.
«Remember our arrangement. You're welcome to observe and that's it. We aren't a training
ground for you. If you want to contact fighters outside the Arena, it's your business. Don't recruit
them here. Especially in front of me.»
«Are you a fighter, my lady?»
And we're back to the «lady» again. «Occasionally.»
«She's on a team and you're holding up her processing.» Rene stared at him.
The man glanced at her. The command in his glare was unmistakable. Rene went white as a
sheet but stood her ground. He smiled amicably, bowed to us, and went on, the blond and Nick
behind him.
Rene stared after him with undisguised hatred.
«What's his name?» I asked Rene.
«Bastard,» Rene murmured, scanning the papers. «He also goes by Hugh d'Ambray.»
The world fell apart.
Hugh d'Ambray. Preceptor of the Order of Iron Dogs. My adoptive father, Voron's, best pupil
and successor. Hugh d'Ambray, Roland's Warlord.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Everyone knew Roland would eventually seek to expand his
territory. Right now he held an area that cut diagonally through Iowa to North Dakota . Voron had
explained it to me: it was land that nobody wanted, where Roland could sit and build up his forces
without presenting enough of a threat to warrant an invasion. Eventually, when his forces grew
numerous, he would spread east or west.
I tried to think like Roland. I was raised by Voron, damn it. I should be able to slide into
Roland's head. What did he want in Atlanta?
The Pack. Of course. Over the past year, the Pack had grown in size. It was now the second
largest in North America. If I were Roland, I would seek to eliminate it now, before it grew any
stronger. He didn't wish to involve the People, his cohorts, because their actions would be tracked
back to him. No, he hired rakshasas instead. Rakshasas were dumb and vicious. He could use them
like a club to clobber the Pack. They wouldn't win, but the Pack would be weakened. And his
Warlord was here to make sure things went smoothly.
Hugh d'Ambray would watch me in the Pit. He might recognize my technique. He would report
to Roland, who would put two and two together and come looking for me.
The doors were right behind me. Fifteen steps and I would be out of the building. A minute and I
would be on my horse, riding into the night. I could vanish and they would never find me.
And abandon the six people who counted on me to watch their back.
Walking away was so easy. I looked up.
«You look like your house burned down,» Rene observed.
«Just reflecting on the fact that when the Universe punches you in the teeth, it never just lets you
fall down. It kicks you in the ribs a couple of times and dumps mud on your head.»