Kael awoke face-down in a ditch. This was not unusual. What was unusual was the glitter. Silver flecks coated his tunic, his hair, and—he squinted—the nearby tree stump. The Panda sat beside him, looking suspiciously pleased with itself, its fur sparkling like a festival decoration.

  The Moon Fox, pristine as always, wrinkled its nose. *"You snored. This was revenge."*

  Kael spat out a leaf. "Whose revenge? Yours or—"

  A pastry hit him square in the forehead.

  Lia loomed over them, arms crossed. "Up. We've got one day to make you look vaguely competent."

  The meadow outside Oakroot seemed like a perfect training ground. Soft grass, gentle slope, absolutely no geese. Kael's pn was simple: teach the Panda one usable move for the Games. Reality had other ideas.

  "Panda, defensive stance!"

  The Panda blinked, then rolled onto its back, paws curled in the air.

  "Fox, distraction tactics!"

  The Fox yawned. *"Pay me."*

  "In what?"

  *"Duck. Roasted. With orange gze."*

  Lia, "helping," tossed a fireball at Kael's feet. *"Dodge!"*

  Kael yelped. "MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE."

  "Motivational," she said, as he dove into a stream.

  Nearby, a group of farmers had gathered to watch, pcing bets. "Ten coppers says the Panda eats the fox by sundown." "Twenty says the tamer cries before noon."

  A shadow fell across their makeshift training ground. "You call that training?"

  The voice was deep, edged with disdain. Kael turned to see a broad-shouldered knight in polished armor, his dark hair tied back, a scar cutting through one eyebrow.

  Lia stiffened. "Ron."

  The knight ignored her, his gaze locked on Kael. "The great Beast King's heir? Pathetic."

  Kael's stomach dropped. He knows about my past life?

  The Fox's fur bristled. The Panda, sensing tension, ate Ron's bootce.

  The road to the capital was crowded with carriages, merchants, and—unfortunately—Judge #3, the man whose hat the Panda had famously eaten. The judge's S-rank Falcon took one look at the Fox and screamed, unching into the air.

  What followed: The Falcon dive-bombed, talons out. The Fox illusioned duplicates of itself. The Panda ate the judge's repcement hat. Feathers rained like a blizzard. Judge #3 turned purple. Kael grabbed his beasts and ran.

  The capital was a riot of color and noise. Banners fluttered, trumpets bred, and street vendors hawked everything from "lucky" talismans to suspicious meat skewers. Then Kael saw the posters. Past champions lined the arena walls—including a faded portrait of his past-life self, the Beast King. No one seemed to notice the resembnce.

  A bookie called out: "500-to-1 odds on the Disaster Tamer!"

  Lia immediately dug for coins. "I'm betting against you."

  Their inn was the cheapest in the city—which meant the walls were thin, the beds were lumpy, and the smell was questionable. The Fox paced, tail shing. The Panda, having found fermented honey, was drunk and attempting to hug a chair.

  Lia tossed Kael a dagger. "Try not to lose tomorrow."

  He caught it. "Was that encouragement?"

  "Call it investment protection." She paused at the door. "Also, Ron's hiding something. Watch your back."

  Alone, Kael stared at the ceiling. The Games began at dawn. Somewhere, a bard started singing the bald of the glitter disaster. The Panda hiccuped.