Page 37 of Ironhold, Trial One

I nod.

“It gets easier.”

“I don’twantit to get easier,” I snap back, then realize how harsh my tone is. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t like that they can make us just slaughter one another.”

“Braxus was a cruel brute who liked to hurt people as much as possible,” Zara says. “You shouldn’t feel bad about him being gone.”

Maybe not, but I do feel bad about being the one to kill him. Being forced to do something like that is a huge step. I don't want Zara to be right, I don't want it to be easier now that I've done it once. Killing someone should mean more than that, but the system of Aetheria means that none of us have any choice.

“I saw your bout too,” I say to her. “With the water.”

“It's not a trick that will work on everyone,” she says. “I have to hit them just right with the vial. And there's only so long I can hold it. But it worked today, which means I get to live a little longer. I hope we never have to fight one another.”

I hope so, too. I think of Zara as a friend, but the reality is that we could be made to fight. And if we do, I have no doubt she will fight just as ruthlessly as she did in her first bout. She will do whatever it takes to survive. And so, it turns out, will I. It is something I wish I did not know about myself, but the colosseum has stripped away all pretense in that regard.

“Well, you're both looking glum, considering that you're victorious.” Ravenna approaches. She still has blood on her, but doesn't seem to care. It probably isn't hers. She is still in her scandalously brief armor, and I can see the eyes around the room on her, on us.

“Don't you mind that people watch you like that?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It's a part of what all this is. We celebrate youth, beauty, strength.”

“So the nobles get to stand around wondering which of us they’d like to bed most after watching us try to kill one another?” Zara asks.

Ravenna shrugs. “It's simply the way of things. And it can be useful. When I finish my fights, there will be a dozen wealthy young men who want to be my husband.”

“I thought you were already wealthy?” I say.

She hesitates. “I am noble, but as for wealthy… these things are relative. My family has some money, but not as much as the very finest. Not like Alaric’s family, for example. No, I must come here, show what I can do, show myself off, in the hopes that when this is done one of my horde of admirers will prove to be a suitable match.”

She's risking her life, just for a better marriage? Except it's not just that, is it? For Ravenna, a better marriage means greater wealth and prestige, being closer to the power in Aetheria. I hope that she achieves all she wants. For now, she seems to be looking around the room, smiling at this noble or that, then looking away before they can be certain that she means any of it.

Yet, she is not the one who attracts attention first. Instead, when a servant comes up to a small group, it is with a message for me.

“Lady Elara requests the pleasure of your presence,” the servant says.

Lady Elara is the strange woman who talked to me yesterday. Who said she would be watching me? Do I want to speak to her again? It seems better than standing here, so I nod.

“It seems someone has an admirer,” Ravenna says, as I turn to go.

“It’s not like that,” I insist.

“Oh, dear, it'salwayslike that. They always want something from us.”

Those words echo in my mind as the servant leads me through to a private room, draped in silks. Lady Elara is sitting on a couch. Today, she is wearing a flowing white and gold dress fastened at her shoulder. There is a table with an ewer of water on it in front of her.

“I thought you would want to have a chance to clean the blood from your hands,” she says. “I know it can be painful to kill for the first time.”

I’m grateful for that, and I start to wash my hands and arms in the water.

"Everyone says that as if it's something to get out of the way so that I can get better at it next time," I say.

It’s hard to read Lady Elara’s expression. “You are in a situation where killing may mean the difference between life and death. You made the choice you needed to make in order to survive.”

“It was barely even a choice,” I reply. “I just…”

“Just what, Lyra? Just got so caught up in the flow of things you were seeing through other eyes that you acted instinctively?”

That takes me back, because how could she know what was happening to me in the arena? Everyone else seems to think that I simply overcame my opponent through greater skill and ruthlessness. I have told no one about seeing through the eyes of the birds.

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