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They fought side by side in the meadow against the destroyers.

They stood hand in hand on the arena sands before the Killers.

Logan showed her every moment: when he was a boy clapping his hands red as his brother was inducted into the Seraph; when he was a young man leading his first scouting party to escape a wildfire; when he was first blooded, slaying a centaur raider and taking the creature’s war hammer; when he was most proud, using that hammer to destroy a minion of Primordus in the name of his queen. . . .

Jennah’s hand broke from his forehead, and she stepped back, catching a slight breath. Once again, the two of them were standing in the throne room, staring wide-eyed at each other.

Jennah whispered, “The things you have done.”

Logan smiled. “The things I will yet do—in your name.”

The senators and courtiers of Divinity’s Reach listened in silence.

Jennah glanced toward them and drew a deep breath, becoming the queen once again. “You are bonded to me, now, Logan Thackeray,” she pronounced, speaking to everyone. “If ever I am in mortal peril, I will call to you, and you must come to me.”

“Yes, my queen,” Logan said, dropping again to one knee.

Jennah’s eyes moved among the courtiers, fixing on certain ones. “Let those who plot against the throne beware.”

“Where’ve you been?” Rytlock asked.

Logan wandered dumbstruck onto the arena sands. “I’m not exactly sure.”

“Sangjo wants to talk with us,” the charr growled. “All of us.”

Caithe walked up to join her teammates. “Something about a big matchup.”

The three walked side by side through the main trainer’s gate into the foul-smelling underbelly of the arena. They passed among rows of caged gladiators, who hollered excitedly to see Edge of Steel among them, and reached an infirmary, whose operating tables just now were empty. Beyond the tables, Sangjo stood in conference with a female norn, her dire wolf, and a pair of asura.

Wending among the empty tables, Edge of Steel approached. They stopped a few strides away, planted their feet, and folded their arms over their chests.

Logan spoke for them. “You wanted to see us?”

Sangjo dipped his head. “I’ve just arranged a special match for you.”

“With whom?” Logan asked.

“With this group—Eir, Snaff, Zojja, and Garm.” As Sangjo named them, he pointed to each one.

Rytlock blinked. “Are they suicidal?”

“No,” replied the norn named Eir.

“You’ve seen us fight, yes?”

The little asura named Snaff waddled forward and nodded happily. “Oh, yes, many times. We’ve studied—”

“We’ve seen you fight,” broke in the norn. “We’re ready.”

Rytlock strode along before the group. “How many matches have you fought?”

“We fought the Dragonspawn,” Eir responded.

“Did you win?” Rytlock asked.

“No.”

The charr lumbered over to Sangjo. “What is this? Is it some kind of trick?”

“It’s no trick,” Eir responded. “It’s a bet.”

Rytlock turned toward her. “A bet with whom?”

“With your owner—Captain Magnus the Bloody Handed.”

Rytlock scowled. “What kind of bet?”

“If we beat you in the arena,” Eir explained, “he will lend you to us on our quest to slay the Dragonspawn.”

“What?” Rytlock snarled, backing away among his teammates. “He can’t lend us out to fight a dragon champion.”

“He’s afraid,” Snaff said in a stage whisper.

“Afraid of what?” barked Rytlock.

Snaff shrugged. “Of us, of course.”

The charr made a hawking sound. “Of you?”

“You’re afraid we’ll defeat you. That’s the only way you’d have to face the Dragonspawn—which, by the way, we’ve already faced and will again.” Snaff turned to his comrades. “Maybe they aren’t as tough as they look from the stands.”

Rytlock roared with wounded pride and blurted, “We’ll beat you. We’ll destroy you!” He looked toward his comrades, who nodded shallowly. “Sangjo, you better promote this match. I want this place packed the day we shred these four.”

Sangjo said simply, “It shall be done.”

The evening sun cast long shadows as Eir, Snaff, Zojja, and Garm headed toward the Lion’s Arch asura gate.

“That cost us,” Zojja groused.

“Money well spent,” said Eir. “My money well spent. We couldn