Page 2 of Ironhold, Trial Two

That was true. Elara knew that, but she still couldn't help feeling that Lyra was important. It was rare that she had felt anyone with the kind of power that the younger woman possessed.

“People know her powers but, since she is a gladiator, they do not care,” Elara said. “They will continue to try to kill her in the games, but it just means that she is well placed to help us. More than that, they will see her, and they will come to see that a beast whisperer can be a hero to them.”

“She isn't even one of us yet,” Methisa said. “And I for one would vote against bringing her in. The risks are too great. The risks ofallof this are huge.”

“The risks of doing nothing are worse,” Elara countered. She felt as if she were the one in the arena now, taking on Methisa while the others watched. They might be using words rather than weapons, but the outcome mattered at least as much. Elara was convinced that if she did not persuade the others, then all their lives might be forfeit. They were running out of time to change things.

“You are asking us to commit treason,” Methisa pointed out.

“We do that just by existing,” Elara countered. “The emperor mistrusts us, has us killed or dampened when we are too powerful. And what I am proposing does not destroy Aetheria. It merely changes it for all of us. I am as loyal to the city as anyone here. I just cannot stand the emperor’s hatred of us any longer.”

“Call it what you will, but you still know what will happen to us if we are caught,” Mathias said.

“The same things that will happen to us if they find out that we are beast whisperers, given our current positions,” Elara said. She looked around at the assembled crowd. “I know you are scared, I know all of you would like to just get on with your lives,but I do not believe we have that option. Not forever. If we act, we can make Aetheria safe for all of us.”

“If we proceed, it should be cautiously,” Methisa said.

Elara knew that she was going to have to concede that much. She could tell the others weren't going to agree to bold action, at least not yet.

“Cautiously then,” she said. “But do Ihaveyour agreement? All those in favor?”

She looked around the room. Slowly, hands raised, showing their assent. Almost all of them. Even Methisa, in the end.

They were going to do it. They might proceed slowly, but they were going to work against their emperor, against the systems of Aetheria. They would change it, or they would die trying.

Chapter One

A sword whistles past my head, touching the golden strands of my hair as I duck, barely missing me. I roll, not caring about the dirt that the move throws up into the air, and come back to my feet with my trident raised in an overhand grip.

Another blow is already coming my way, but I'm faster than I was when I was first taken as a gladiator. Months of training have done that much for me, at least. I twist aside from it, my net wrapping around my opponent's legs. I wrench it to pull her legs from under her. She goes down hard, the breath going from her body in a grunt of pain.

Zara lies there on the ground, flame-red hair spilling around her in waves. She looks utterly helpless, caught in the net. I move to help her up, and I'm rewarded by the touch of a wooden sword against my throat.

“The bout doesn't stop just because you knocked me down, Lyra,” Zara points out, sounding annoyed that I should try to help her like that. “You need to finish me with your trident.”

We both know I'm not going to do that. I have gotten to the point where I can spar with blunted wooden weapons, where I am happy to learn how to fight, but there is still no part of me that can imagine killing a downed opponent in cold blood. It is enough to survive in the arena; I don't want to have to kill every foe as well.

“You were doing better,” Rowan says, from the side, trying to encourage me. “Moving much more smoothly.”

Rowan is taller than me and massively built with auburn hair and solid muscles. Like me, like most of the gladiators here at Ironhold, he has an iron collar around his neck, proclaiming that he is not here by choice. Rowan used to be a slave to Lady Tyra, an important noble woman of Aetheria, until she tired of him.He has a faint silvery scar on his cheek, which she inflicted on him before she sent him away, either to show how much he had angered her or to make sure that no one else would ever want him. I think it only adds to his good looks. His presence at the edge of the training pit is distracting, to say the least. It’s all too easy to think about what we could be doing together instead.

“You say that like you're surprised,” I counter. “I've been here long enough now. We all have.”

Long enough to survive a whole season of bouts in the Colosseum of Aetheria. Long enough that the circular brand on my shoulder has a single line across it, proclaiming my success. Five of those, five seasons survived, and I will be free, a citizen of the city. Any children I have will be considered noble born.

But first I must survive another four seasons, facing both gladiators and beasts, fighting with both steel and magic.

“Let's give Zara a break and see how you do against a different opponent,” Rowan says. He jumps down into the practice pit. In the mornings, we are all drilled hard by Lord Darius, the former gladiator who is master of Ironhold. Along with Lady Selene Ravenscroft, the arch magistrate, he organizes the games. The rest of the time we practice amongst ourselves, striving to get better, striving to gain the skills we need to survive.

There is no question of simply taking time off between seasons at the arena. The holy days of the empire of Aetheria are infrequent, but we must be ready when the next ones come around. Any hesitation, any weakness, might mean the difference between life and death for us.

My body has hardened with the training. I am still slender and fine-boned, but now lean muscle defines my frame, and I am tanned under the hot sun, my blonde hair almost bleached white by it.

“Show me what you can do,” Rowan says, snatching up a wooden short sword and small shield, representing his preferred tools in the arena. I circle him with my own weapons, the trident and net picked by Lord Darius to reflect the fishing village from which I came, and to allow me to move around a larger opponent, trying to ensnare them. It is a fighting style that requires me to hit and move, never stopping. Rowan watches me with a faint smile, but his green eyes are unwavering.

I feint with the net, stabbing with the trident, but he reads the movement. Rowan has a talent for feeling and controlling the earth, where I can connect with beasts, and Zara can manipulate water. Aetheria seized us at least as much for those magical talents as for any fighting prowess. His talent means that he can read every shift of my weight and make the ground unstable under my feet.

He moves in quickly with multiple attacks, ducking under the sweep of my net. I thrust at him again with my trident, but the attack is halfhearted, because I don't want to risk him running onto it and being injured. An injury would slow his training down and reduce the chances of him surviving the next bouts. Because I do not put my full strength in, though, that lets him knock the blow aside.

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