Page 14 of Ironhold, Trial One

“Ah, yes, of course,” he says, as if just remembering the circumstances under which new arrivals might be brought to Ironhold. “You must be one of the new recruits.”

“That makes it sound as though we have any say in the matter,” I say. I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice, either.

He gives me a sympathetic look, albeit briefly. “What's your name?”

“Lyra,” I say.

“Well, Lyra, I am sure you will make the best of it. The thing to remember is, whatever your past was, here you have the chance to be something so much greater. There is more glory here than anywhere else in Aetheria.”

“Do you actually believe that?” I ask. “They're going to try to make us kill one another for the sport of Aetheria’s preening nobles, and do you think it's glorious?”

His smile only widens. “Strictly speaking it's for the entertainment of all of Aetheria’s citizens, not just we ‘preening nobles.’”

“You’renoble?” I say. I don't know why it's such a surprise, given the way he acts. It explains some of the arrogance at least. But it's still shocking that a noble would be here, would have marks on him suggesting that he has fought for a whole season of trials in the colosseum.

“It's the lack of noble finery, isn’t it?” Alaric says. “Had I known that I would need to overawe a commoner such as yourself, I would have worn more than just a towel. Or possibly less. And really, once you commit to training at Ironhold, it is more practical to wear training gear until you either complete your seasons or your family buys you out, even if some of the others like to wear their finery between sessions. Can we justpretendthat I'm in full noble regalia?”

“And I should fall to my knees in awe?” I counter.

He raises an eyebrow. “Only if you want to. Now, I should point out that there are schedules for male and female recruits to use the bathhouses. You should probably abide by them in future to avoid any awkwardness.”

He says that as if this isn't awkward. But then, he certainly doesn't give the impression of feeling any of it.

I am burning with embarrassment. I shouldn't be here. And if he'd come in just a little earlier, he would have found me in the pool.

“Not that it has to be awkward,” he says. “It's just that people might start to think that you want to join them, and we can't have that.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you do? There are those among the women who do.”

“No,” I say, as quickly as I can. “Very much no.”

I hurry away, and he calls after me.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Lyra. I look forward to seeing you in training.”

His words only propel me faster from the bathhouse.

I continue my explorations of Ironhold, wanting to be alone for the time it takes for my shame and embarrassment to die down. I want to understand this space, want to know more about the place that I'm forced to be in.

Maybe if I search it thoroughly enough, I will find a way to escape it.

That thought comes from nowhere. I haven't dared to think of such things since the moment I saw the young man killed out on the road after he fled. The sight of him held down and killed so brutally flashes through my mind. I know that I cannot entertain thoughts of escape, because if I'm caught, I will die just as cruelly as he did. Perhaps more so, because I can see the impaling spikes on the walls, and at least one holds the remnants of a body. Compared to that, maybe the young escapee got away with a quick death.

I head inside, searching through the fortress anyway, trying to understand more about the place I'm in. I find an armory filled with all manner of weapons and protective gear. There is a forge at the back of it, the sound of hammering reverberating along Ironhold's corridors.

I find something between a temple and a kind of gallery space, too, lined with statues of figures in heroic poses. I don’t know who any of them are. One stands with his arms around the neck of a lion, another holds a sword aloft, his foot on the chest of a fallen enemy.

“Just what are you doing in here?” a voice demands.

I turn to see a man maybe a couple of years older than me stalking through the gallery space towards me. He wears the same training gear as everyone else here, but he has the robes of a noble over it. Almost automatically, I glance to his shoulderand see that he has a stripe across the circle of his brand. He sees me looking and pulls his robes tighter closed so I cannot see. He has spiked blonde hair and clear blue eyes, his features angular and with a cruel twist to his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he demands again. “This is a holy place, not for the likes of you.”

“I’m just trying to find my way around Ironhold,” I reply. It sounds too defensive and weak to my ears. “I didn’t know this place was here.”

“Because you don’t knowanything,” he snaps back. “Another newcomer, probably not even from the city.”

I shake my head. “I’m Lyra, and I’m from-”

“Do you think I care what your name is?” He moves closer to me. “Do you think I care aboutyou?”

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