Mona was still asleep in the medic cot when the call came for the final, which meant Soren went down to the floor with his ribs taped and a mole on his ankle who refused to be left.
He supposed he should start researching how to tame a mole, or if the permanent attachment was just part of the quill.
The arena was full in a way the semifinal had not been.
Vasquez Sr. was in the high box with the glass, and this time he was leaning forward.
Up another tier, three figures sat where the public seats ended and the private ones began, and they did not move or cheer, and Soren did not need to know what a Council delegation looked like when it had come to watch a class get dissolved.
The official read the stakes out loud so the cameras had them.
Immunity for one year to the winning class.
Dissolution for Class Z if its champion lost.
Troy came out from the far gate with his knight already manifested, and Soren took inventory the way he took everything, fast, cold, evidence first.
