Chapter 6 · Royal Blood in the Sand

Alto's hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Blood dripped from his knuckles into the sand. Three drops. Four. The pit floor drank them fast, and the whispering started.

He yanked his hand back. Too late.

The voices clawed up from the ground, thin and crackling like old paper catching fire. He couldn't make out words yet, but he felt them—hundreds of them, maybe thousands—pressing against the inside of his skull. Arlen Kash had led men into ambushes, walked through minefields, pulled arrows out of his own gut without flinching. But this? This made his teeth grind so hard his jaw ached.

"Kid."

Shana's voice cut through the noise. She stood ten feet away, arms crossed, head tilted. The pit boss didn't miss much. Alto had learned that his first day.

"Yeah?" He kept his voice flat.

"Your hand."

"It's fine."

"Doesn't look fine." She stepped closer. Her boots crunched on the sand. Each step made the whispering spike. "Looks like you're about to pass out."

"I'm not."

"Uh-huh." Shana stopped just outside arm's reach. Smart woman. "You won seven straight. Now you look like you're gonna puke. What changed?"

Arlen forced his fingers to curl into a fist. The shaking got worse.