Yuri bowed his head before the statue, and placed a laurel wreath at its feet. He stood at the front of a line of young men, all of them with shaven faces and heads.

Dixie’s stomach rumbled. She was perched on a slender branch, fifteen feet above the ground.

Nidala’s wrist smacked into the marble floor in a way she hadn’t planned. Her arm had snagged. . .