I turned to Muriel slowly, meeting her eyes as she stepped onto the mat. I rubbed my palms against my pants, trying to calm myself. Her face was expressionless as she placed one foot in front and brought up her hands in a fighting stance. I searched her eyes, looking for a hint of emotion. You knew, I tried to convey, you knew that the elders were going to kill me, and you did nothing. Don’t you feel guilty?

“Glace,” Sergeant Dale said, bringing me back into reality. I shook my head and assumed my own stance across from Muriel. She was larger than me, with broader shoulders and more developed muscles, and the way she stood seemed to suggest some degree of confidence. By all appearances, the spar would not be an easy one.

Dale gave a nod, signaling the beginning of the fight. Muriel drew closer, throwing a couple of punches with her left hand to test out her reach. I let her close the distance between us, then kicked with my right leg, aiming for her ribs. She blocked with an elbow and hooked her arm at my head. I felt the shot graze my hair as I ducked below and swung my fist into her midsection.

I felt a rush of satisfaction as my fist made contact, but she showed no sign of being winded. She’s conditioned her muscles, I noted, she’s used to heavy hits.

We separated, panting. She aimed a kick at my thigh, but I raised my knee and blocked it at the last moment. I feinted towards her side, then sunk my foot into her stomach. Her eyes watered, but she reacted quickly, kicking out my base leg and sending me stumbling away.

I sucked in air, trying to catch my breath. She watched me with cold eyes, looking for an opening. I wiped sweat from my forehead, feeling discouraged that my hits weren’t landing as expected. I won’t be able to end it this way. I can’t outlast her.

Muriel came at me with a flurry of blows, and suddenly we were locked in a precipitous in-fight. I slipped and ducked as she swung hooks and straight punches at my head. One caught me on the shoulder, and I twisted slightly, losing my balance. Knowing that I would soon be overwhelmed, I sent a roundhouse kick to her head, hoping to end the fight in one hit. She caught my foot in one hand and pushed forward, throwing me to the ground.

The fight turned into a desperate scramble as she tried to pin me down. Her punches hit the mat beside my head, sending straw dust a foot into the air. A stray punch caught me squarely on the nose, and warm blood splashed over my face. I listened for Sergeant Dale to call the fight as I tried to buck her off, but nothing came.

Grimacing, I thrusted up an elbow, catching her in the eye. She grunted with pain but locked her knees tighter, keeping me from breaking free. Again, her fist caught me in the face, and my head erupted in pain. “Okay!” I shouted, pounding the mat, “I’m done.”

Muriel and I locked gazes as she stood up. Her eye was quickly turning purple, but I could tell from the blood dripping down my chin that I looked worse. I wiped my face with a sleeve and pulled myself off of the mat, finding my place on the sidelines.

“Glace, do you need to see a medic?” Dale asked.

I narrowed my eyes, knowing that any show of weakness would only worsen my position. “No,” I said, “I’ll go after we finish here.”

As Dale walked through his debriefing, I found myself picking through the fight move-by-move. There was no doubt that Muriel was the stronger fighter, both in raw strength and technique. Her years of training in Bellgate’s army had not been wasted. Still, if I hoped to regain my pride and be any help on the assaination mission, I would need to far surpass her level.

The last of the groups concluded their sparring sessions not long after Dale finished his instruction. The instructors released us, ordering us to rest for the remainder of the day. I sought out Gizem and Nico at the backside of the camp, where we recounted what had happened in our groups.

“What do you think of the oppositions’ men?” I asked Nico.

He tilted his head, considering it. “Some of them are decent fighters with potential. No one shocked me, though. We will have to see how they handle weapons.”

I nodded. “It’s too early to make any real judgment.”

We agreed to keep each other updated, and Gizem excused herself to report to work at Gibnor. As she left, I turned to face Nico. “Are you going home?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m supposed to meet with a group of scouts, but that’s not until the evening. Are you going to the infirmary?”

I waved away his concern. “I’ll walk with you to the base.”

We set off together on the long walk back to the canyon. The midday sun beat down upon us, exacerbating my newly-formed headache. I held my sleeve to my nose until the wound clotted, focusing on my pulse in my ears and trying to gather my thoughts.

“Nico,” I finally said, “I need to talk to you about something.” He turned to me, his dark eyes portraying some concern. The light caught his silvery scar, and the familiarity of his expression made me pause in my confrontation.

“What is it?” he urged.

I looked around, making sure that we were alone. “I need to know the truth,” I said. “I know that you were not just a civilian back in Historical Amberasta. Why were you inside the Fortress compound?”

Nico stopped in the sand, taken aback by the suddenness of my question. “Why now? Are you questioning my loyalty?”

I shook my head. “I’ve told you everything about my past. If we are to travel together again, especially for a mission so important, I need to know who you really are.”

“You might treat me differently.”

“That’s my choice.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. A couple minutes of tense silence passed between us, and I worried that he would refuse to answer. “Fine,” he eventually conceded. “On the night that I found you, I wasn’t just a bystander. I was a guard, patrolling the perimeter of the Fortress.”

“You worked for the king?”

He grimaced. “It gets worse. My father got me the job—usually, people under twenty-one are still considered trainees.”

“Your father…?”

Nico put his head in his hands. “Glace, my father was the leader of Keon’s personal task force. The ‘men in grey’ as you call them.”

My whole body turned cold. “You’re saying that your father was responsible for the theft of the Blood Dove and the death of Historical Amberasta’s resistance?”

Nico nodded, his expression a mask of misery. “I didn’t know about the plan until you connected the dots. It was pure coincidence that I chose that night to defect. There were fewer guards than usual, since so many had gone to deal with the protestors, and the indoor team had been killed by the task force to make the theft appear authentic. I was in the process of leaving when I saw you fall from the walls.”

I wanted to scream. Owen had been right that Nico was hiding something big. “Your parents… are they still alive?”

“No. My informants tell me that the king killed my father after he learned of my betrayal, and that my mother committed suicide.”

I tightened my jaw, unsure of what to say. More than anything, the death of his parents was a relief—surely, his father would have done anything in his power to track down his wayward son. Even so, it was a small consolation. “You are a personal enemy to the king. You’ve got to be on the most wanted list; I’d bet that every guard from the border to Chibron knows your face. Even with colored contacts and dyed hair, you might be recognized.”

“You’re not wrong. I’ll make a drastic change before we leave on the mission.”

I ran a hand over my face, feeling drained. “Nico, I don’t know… I need to think this over.”

“Okay, but please,” he pleaded, “remember that I abandoned my father and the king. I had no choice in how I was raised, but I’ve been loyal to the resistance effort ever since that night.”

I searched his face, finding affliction and torment. My heart ached for me to comfort him, but the weight of his secret sent me turning away instead.

“I’ll try to remember,” I whispered.