Page 20 of Ironhold, Trial Two

Lady Elara’s expression hardens slightly. “If you do not wish to train with me, you can return to Ironhold and train their way. You do not have to accept me as a patron. And I do not have to call on you further.”

Meaning that she would abandon me to deal with my remaining seasons at the Coliseum alone. Maybe I could manage it, but I have seen the importance of politics and connections within the games. I cannot afford to alienate the one person who can teach me more about my powers.

So I do what she asks. I command the crocodile to open its mouth, and I put my arm inside. It wants to bite down. It thinks that this is an offering to it. It wants to devour me. I do not let it. I stand there, holding it back, not letting it bite me.

Finally, I take my arm out, and the crocodile’s jaws snap shut. The creature slithers off into the shadows, and I look in challenge at the robed woman. I hope this is what she wanted.

“You did well,” Lady Elara says. “Now we should get you back, before they miss you.”

She has her palanquin return me to Ironhold. I'm grateful to just find Rowan and Naia playing dice in the main hall. I go to join them.

“Are you all right?” Rowan asks. “You look troubled.”

I am troubled. What I've heard suggests that the Spectral Covenant is doing far more than just helping people. Am I about to be dragged into an attempt to kill the emperor? Are they everything that he and his prophecy claim? And what about the way I was made to risk myself with the crocodile? I don't know what to make of them or what I should do. But I also know I can't talk about it. Not even with my friends.

“I'm just worried about the games,” I say. I am worried about them. They are almost upon us. Soon, we will need to fight for our lives once again.

“You'll be fine,” Rowan reassures me.

“And if you’re injured, I’ll patch you up,” Naia says. That makes a huge difference to the danger of the Colosseum. The healers around it are good but having a friend close by whosetalent is for healing means that we have a chance to survive where we might not otherwise.

“I'm grateful for you both,” I say. “Without the two of you, I'd be dead by now.”

“Don't talk like that,” Rowan says. “You have your own talent and your own strength. You'll get through this. Five seasons, remember.”

I remember. I know his plan. Just get through his seasons and get out of there to buy the freedom of his sisters. It seems I'm wrapped up in more. Do I want to be?

I start to head back through Ironhold, heading for the bathhouse before I return to my room. I'm making my way along one of the corridors when I see Alaric. He must have returned from his own visit to his patron, whoever they are.

The most shocking thing is the bruise on the side of his face, flowering in purple, as if someone has struck him hard.

“Alaric!” I say, hurrying up to him, reaching out for the bruise without thinking. “What happened?”

He catches my arm, but gently, offering me a brittle smile. “Nothing of any importance.”

“It's important if someone hit you.”

He laughs, but again it has the edge of something forced. “I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, but we're gladiators. People try to hit us all the time.”

And if this had happened in training, it would just be one more thing to shrug off. Even then, I'm not sure I would want to see Alaric hurt. But this has the feeling of something else.

“This is different,” I say. “If your patron is hurting you-”

“Leave it alone, Lyra,” Alaric says. “There is nothing you can do, and this… this is my business.”

“I just want to help,” I say.

“Why is that?” he asks. He moves closer to me. For a moment, I think he might reach out for me. Then he shakes hishead. “Focus on yourself for tonight. The games are coming. You must be ready for your bouts.”

He turns and leaves. I could follow, but what would I say? It's obvious that Alaric doesn't want to talk about this. Sometimes, he feels as unreachable as the world beyond the walls of Ironhold. And if he will not let me help, then he is right. I need to focus on myself.

Tomorrow, the games begin.

Chapter Eleven

The beginning of the next season of games means a parade down to the city. It means all of us gathering in our armor, holding our weapons, shining in the sun. I am dressed in scraps of scale armor, wearing a helm that is in the shape of a fish, carrying a net and a trident, a curved dagger at my belt.

No one is dressed quite like me. We are not an army in a uniform. Each of us has the armor and weapons that have been judged to be most spectacular and suited to us. Rowan wears patches of plate, carrying a short, leaf shaped sword and a small shield. Alaric has two swords and steel vambraces that are designed to deflect blows. Zara has armor this is designed to make her look barbarous and wild, along with bandoliers filled with vials of water, the better to use her powers.

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