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Across the room, Aviel moved past with Theo a step behind him, a golden thread looped loose around Theo’s throat, decorative more than restraining now.

Ryneth’s gaze caught there and stayed.

Helianth laughed softly into his drink.

Daven turned him toward him just enough to steal one quick kiss. “Stay with me until I go down,” he said, his forehead brushing Ryneth’s once. “After that, keep your head up and make Bekn regret having eyes.”

Ryneth swallowed. “That’s your comforting speech?”

Daven’s mouth curved. “It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Before Ryneth could answer, the roar below swelled again, louder now, rolling through the chamber like the whole building had a heartbeat.

Kylix pushed off the wall. “When he comes out, you only keep your eyes on Bekn. Don’t look at anyone else. If you look at them, they’ll make you feel smaller. He won’t. He’s a beast, and if he could kill you, he would. You’re not prey.”

Milanov set his glass aside and turned from the arena. Around the room, guards straightened. The low murmur near the bar died almost at once. He crossed to Ryneth without hurry, but by the time he reached him, even Helianth had gone quiet. “Listen to me.”

Ryneth straightened before he meant to.

“This is the Aureate. It’s not a trial. It’s not punishment. It’s a rite. A spectacle. Helion shows its people what protects them, and the people answer by believing in it.”

The roar outside pressed harder against the glass.

“It’s about you.”

Ryneth frowned.

Milanov’s gaze dropped again to the marks on Ryneth’s throat, then to Daven’s hand still fixed on his waist. “They want to see what Daven claimed.”

Ryneth’s stomach tightened.

A few weeks ago, the words would have felt like a collar closing.

Now, with Daven’s hand still firm on his waist and the bond warm under his skin, the words landed differently. He’d been claimed. Chosen. Protected.

Seen.

“What happens next is up to you. There’s no script. No timing. The only things that matter are Bekn’s death and the people understanding why. They hate Attica. What it did. What it took. They need to see it end.”

Static flickered at Ryneth’s fingertips.

Milanov looked at the sparks, then back at him. “Good. Let them see.”

A horn sounded below.

Milanov stepped back. “Take your place.”

Ryneth only saw Daven.

The roar outside dulled to a distant throb. The glass, the princes, the blood waiting below, all of it fell back until there was only Daven.

He leaned in and pressed one quick kiss to his mouth. Daven’s hand caught at the back of his neck and held him there for one extra beat, forehead brushing his.

“That’s it,” Daven murmured. Then he pulled back, eyes bright and merciless and entirely his. “Now show them.”

The Aureate had already begun.

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