On the other side of the arena was Rymora, who had been dragged there against her will.
At first, she had been mostly distracted, her thoughts elsewhere, swirling with a quiet desperation that left her half-numb. But once the fights began—once blood began to paint the sand in thick, gleaming strokes—Rymora couldn't help the gnawing worry that curled in her gut for Aira.
Aira was unlike the other vampires—no, not even a vampire at all. Just a human girl dropped into a pit of wolves. Rymora couldn't stop the flicker of pity that flared inside her, however much she tried to suppress it. Aira had never been cruel to her, never even looked at her with that usual venom most others carried in their gaze.
'This is not good!' she thought, throat tightening as she glanced again at the tall figure beside her.
