My back prickles as the man’s voice interrupts me. I may have broken into his home, but it still feels like his presence is an invasion. “I don’t understand,” I say as I turn to face the sage. He is leaning casually on his door frame, a basket with a cloth covering its content in his off hand. He looks down at the broken handle then back at me.

  “You broke my door,” he comments, not sounding angry or even irritated. It’s a simple statement of fact. “I’d prefer if you just waited outside, next time. You’re always welcome, of course, but this is a bit impolite.” I raise an eyebrow. I have to actively remind myself that it’s a bad idea to fight him when I’m unprepared. My claws still don’t carry any venom.

  “What is that out there?” I ask and his eyes lock on mine, the first sense of real danger I’ve gotten from him leaking from narrow pupils.

  “I did expect you to come; after the day's events it was inevitable. But I really would have preferred to clean up first,” he responds. He claps his hands twice, and the room lights up, the stains in the carpet vanishing completely. “As for the view, well. Perhaps I’ll show you eventually. But I’m afraid there would be little point right now. Here, come and have a seat at the table.” He walks over to his dining room, and I cautiously follow. There is a tension in the air that was absent last time. A tension which can be easily explained, but I need to determine which easy explanation it is. I’d rather keep looking for the victims I fought in the arena, but they are gone. I knew it the moment I saw the darkness beyond the window. I’m not sure what he’s done with them, but they are gone.

  I take a seat opposite Markus, glancing at the basket he’s placed in the middle of the table. Our eyes catch on each other like loose threads. His smile is strained and I’m not bothering to force my own. It could be because he found me, in his home, investigating something he clearly wants to keep secret. It could also be because he just saw me defy logic and use magic while cuffed. It could even be my clear refusal to not only kill the mutated gladiators, but to even let them kill each other. Hopefully, it isn’t all of the above. I remain silent, waiting for him to speak first. Always the best tactic when being interrogated, and I’m fairly certain that is what is happening. I may have a big mouth but shutting the fuck up at times like this has gotten me out of a lot of trouble before.

  “Allow me to apologize, Miss . . . Cordelia,” he says after a moment of awkward silence. I don’t love the pause before my alias, but I don’t comment on it. “It’s truly embarrassing that, only days after our deal, I allowed such a thing to happen. The sage who interfered in your match was . . . not supposed to be there. I have brought a small olive branch, of sorts for now.” At this he pushes the basket to me. Every word is sharper than an apology should be and I have a sickly feeling in my gut. I hesitantly reach out for it, half expecting to find a head or some shit inside. Some horrifying threat letting me know the jig is up.

  As I lift the cloth on top I find something less horrifying . . . I guess. It probably wasn’t intended to be hostile or threatening at all, although it still carries both messages as far as I’m concerned. It’s a simple basket of fresh fruit. Newly ripened pears, to be specific. I glance back at the smiling man with only my eyes before looking back at the horrific fruit. “Make sure not to eat them in public, of course. The Void Sage says the demon queen absolutely loathes them, and I wouldn’t want to ruin your public persona,” he adds after a moment of awkward silence. Does the fucking Void Sage have a camera in the my kitchen or what? What kind of information is that to spread around a whole-ass country? I swear to God I’m about to read some press release about the shade and hue of my asshole, hex code and everything. This is getting beyond annoying and venturing into straight up creepy territory.

  More annoying is the meaning behind Markus referencing it. These goddamn pears are hostile. This is the stupidest test I have been given since I was accused of cheating in math class. I suppress the grimace that tries to present itself and take one of the horrors from the basket, taking a large bite as I stare at Markus. I have to actively use mana internally to suppress the gagging. I even have to extend the agony as I send mana through the fruit itself, checking for poison before I swallow. Fortunately the only toxic thing about it is the sin it calls flavor. I finally manage to swallow the hostile fruit without letting any hint of disgust grace my face.

  “I’m glad you like them,” Markus nods. This fucker is more than suspicious, but he’s not murdering me right now, so I will endure until I find out what he wants. “As I was saying, I am truly drowning in remorse. I’m inconsolable, really. I am so ashamed I allowed you to go through that, and my relief that you managed to survive is palpable. I assure you, it will not repeat. We will need to close the arena for a week or so, I’m afraid. So we can be fully prepared before your big match.” My ears twitch at that last bit.

  “Big match?” I ask. He nods, well, sagely.

  “Well, yes. After that performance today, I can hardly keep you fighting the rabble. You showed . . . talents I wouldn’t have thought possible. We have to capitalize on them. Fame and fortune, that’s what brought you here, right?” he asks. My heart sinks. Yeah, they did not miss that burst of magic. Or a million other little hints that maybe I am not just scrappy. Four sages saw every move I made. Saw my strength. The surprising durability of certain limbs. Even my flesh and bone didn’t break as easily as it should have. Bites which should have left me with fewer appendages were only flesh wounds. There was no hope of staying hidden entirely once the Collector ambushed me. Before, my ‘Demon Queen’ persona provided me with an easy excuse for otherwise highly suspicious aesthetic choices. Now, I am suspicious anyway and immediately tied to public enemy number one in everyone’s heads. Great.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I see. So you want to accelerate the schedule, then?” I ask hesitantly. He grins, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Something like that. Once we are certain it’s safe, of course, we’d like you to showcase all of these skills in a premier match against Bahamut, the demon,” he answers casually. The woman I’ve been talking to this entire time. One of the primary champions of the arena. I went from needing to be protected to going up against the woman he uses as a headliner. Yep. I’m royally fucked. Well, alright. I got my own ass into this mess, I can get out of it.

  “Fine,” I agree. “You said a week? I’ll be ready. I appreciate the apology. The pears are delicious, really.” I stand, hoping to leave it at that but Markus holds his hand up.

  “Oh we can’t have that! You were attacked today. By a sage, of all things! It’s simply not safe to have one of my star gladiators out on her own! You’ll be staying here. For your protection, of course. I will keep you safe until your fight. All you have to do is rest and prepare,” he says. Fuck. My voluntary participation is growing a lot less voluntary. I don’t know if he knows I am the real Lillith, but he certainly knows I am either in his control or his nightmares.

  “I’m certain I’ll be fine, I do appreciate it, though,” I reply. I take another loathsome bite of the neglected pear in my hand, trying to avoid more suspicion than necessary. God this is a fucking insult to fruit.

  “Do you think you alone could fight off a sage with ill intent toward you?” Markus asks with a smile. I get the feeling he isn’t talking about the Collector. He isn’t talking about a single sage at all. I wince as the threat settles on me. I’m not leaving today. Or at all for the next week. The way I see it, there is only one way out of this for me. I have to get stronger. I can change my body faster and I will. I will do what I have to do so even the sages have to fear me. I don’t know what his game is exactly, but I know I am going to have to fight my way out if I want to survive. I just have to count on Ember to get the twins to safety. She’ll do it. She may be insufferable, but she won’t let them get hurt.

  “Very well. I thank you for your consideration,” I respond. The words taste almost as bad as the third bite of Satan's fruit.

  “I had a feeling you’d see things my why. I assume you don’t mind sharing a room with another gladiator. Unfortunately we have no other available accommodations at this time; this is something of an unprecedented situation I’m afraid.”

  “A room?” I ask, suspicious of the chosen phrasing. Not a lot of slaves get their own rooms, in my experience.

  “So to speak,” he smiles. “But worry not, it will not be an issue after this week.” Neither of us is under any illusions about what that means. He knows I am a threat. I know he intends to have me killed. I’m not sure why he doesn’t just kill me now, but he obviously wants me dead. I am headed to death row. Well. Fine. I’ll play his game. We’ll see which of us will be dead in a week. He’s giving me too much time to prepare. With last night’s discovery, a week is plenty of time to turn myself into a sage killer. His arrogance is only the first poison I will use to end him.

  “Shall we go? I have other things to attend to, and I’d like to get you settled in. And don’t worry, there will be a sage keeping an eye on you at all times. You will be safe,” he says, standing from the table. I will be guarded at all times, is what he means. No escape for me.

  “Sure. I could use the rest,” I agree calmly. I stand to follow him, putting the half eaten pear back in the basket. I may be headed to a cage, but at least I don’t have to finish that shitass abomination. I follow him back through the coliseum. With every step I watch him. I think of the stains. The black stone behind his window. The victims he discarded. I will kill him, and I will do it in front of his entire arena. The world will know sages can be killed.

  I am surprised when we reach my cell. Not by the steel door, stone walls, or elevated and narrow window with bars in lieu of glass. I knew I was to be a prisoner. I am more surprised by the occupant. Bahamut, the demon.

  “You often room gladiators with their upcoming opponents?” I ask. I am here for my safety, supposedly. With the woman I am meant to fight to the death in a week. Yeah, alright.

  “It’s what’s available I’m afraid,” he apologizes, sympathy dripping from his voice like grease. “Don’t worry, she won't hurt you. She knows how dangerous that would be. Enjoy your evening, you’ve earned some rest.” With this he gently pushes me in and closes the door behind me. I hear the bar on the other side slide into place.

  “I told you to go home, idiot,” Bahamut says. I sigh, then move over to the bed she isn’t lying on. I do need the rest, and I do think he’s right. She won’t attack me.

  “Yeah, well, I’m stubborn in my idiocy. It’s how I’m going to kill that man and get us both out of here,” I respond.