“Greetings, Myla. You’re called to serve.”
My eyes pop open. It’s early morning and Walker stands at the foot of my bed. Please let me not be dreaming. I’ve been dying for an Arena match for weeks, ever since I downed that Deacon guy. I cross my fingers under the comforter. “Am I dreaming?”
Walker folds his arms across his chest. “No, it’s really me.”
“An Arena match. Yes!” I jump out of bed and smile my face off.
Walker rubs his sideburns with one hand. “We must depart shortly.”
“I’ll be ready super-fast.” I hunt through my dresser for the least raggedy sweatpants. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Walker still lurking by my bed. I arch my eyebrow. “This is the part where you leave my room.”
Walker fidgets in his long robes. “Of course. I’m sorry, Myla.”
“No problem.” I gesture to d
