Chapter 10 · Fight Eight Doesn't End Clean

The eighth fighter had Kael's scar.

Alto saw it the second the cage door clanged shut behind them both. Left forearm, three inches below the elbow, jagged and pale against sun-dark skin. He'd seen Kael get that scar. Ambush outside Verrun Hold, archer in the rocks, arrow punched through leather and flesh and Kael kept his shield up another twenty minutes until they cleared the pass.

That was four years ago. Different world. Different body.

Kael didn't look at him yet. He rolled his shoulders, shook out his hands, checked the sand under his boots. The crowd noise climbed. Shana's voice cut through the rest, announcing the matchup, talking up the odds. Alto barely heard it. His heart slammed in his chest and the sand whispered and he made himself breathe.

Kael still moved like a soldier. Weight forward, scan the space, locate the exits even though there weren't any. The cage was fifteen feet across, iron mesh on three sides and the cliff wall on the fourth. No weapons. No armor. Just fists and whatever you could make the other guy regret.

Alto flexed his fingers. He had Arlen's instincts. He had Alto's body.