JJ's reserve seal opened under her palm like a mouth.
She tried to hide it.
The arena loved hidden pain.
The black tag on her wrist split down the middle, and blue light poured between her fingers. Three veiled auditors turned their white masks toward her at the same time. The richest boxes above the arena stayed quiet. Quiet from rich people meant arithmetic.
Omina saw the light.
"Sponsor," she said.
JJ kept her hand closed. "Busy."
"That reserve is a knife with your name on the blade."
"Most paperwork is."
Ty pushed himself up from one knee.
The place inside his ribs where the silver wire had entered still beat in little aftershocks. Each pulse made the stolen body smile. The ascension auditors wrote with quills that scratched across air. The King watched JJ the way a man watched a coin rolling toward a drain.
The stolen body licked blood from Ty's old teeth.
"Spend her," it said.
Ty's skull snapped toward it.
"Say that again."
"Gladly."
