Page 31 of Ironhold, Trial Two

I can feel tears on my face, and I don't know if they're for myself and my restricted powers, for the creatures I have been forced to kill, for the people who have died, or just in memory of the terror the wraith inflicted on me.

I crouch down there in the middle of the beast pens, feeling the pain of everything that has happened, along with all the fears that the wraith has brought up in me. I shake with it, and even as I do so, there is another presence there.

“Lyra?” Alaric says as he approaches. “I was starting to get worried when I couldn't find you. After what happened, I thought they might have… done something to hurt you.”

He crouches there beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. That contact seems to ground me. It is the gentlest thing I have seen from him.

“I thought you didn't care,” I say.

“We will see what we need to in order to get through this,” Alaric replies.

I nod, swallowing back my tears as best as I can. “Have you… have you seen Rowan? I haven't seen him since I got back from the arena.”

“You're worried about him?” Alaric says.

“The wraith… it showed me all the people I care about being hurt. Him, my mother, you.”

“Me?” Alaric sounds surprised. “And there I thought I told you not to go around caring for people, Lyra.” He stops, though, obviously realizing that this isn't a moment for his usual arrogance and humor. “Rowan is fine. I hear he went to the reception area. Some of the noble women called for him.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at the news that Rowan is not hurt. I know I should have had more confidence in him, but after what the wraith showed me, I'm grateful for the reassurance. Although it's not entirely reassuring. The idea of Rowan up there with a cluster of noble women represents a different kind of danger for him. And… maybe I feel a little jealous.

It's strange that Alaric is the one here.

“Did you just come here for the healing?” I ask him.

“I came here to find you,” he replies. “I figured if you were anywhere, you would come here. What happened to you after your fight? I know they took you to see Lady Selene.”

I hold up my arm for him to see. “They put this on me. To dampen my powers.”

Alaric looks horrified by that. “But that's… that's the kind of thing they do to criminals, or social outcasts or…”

“Or slave gladiators who can't control their powers and almost kill everyone,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “My patron was the one who suggested it.”

“What kind of patron would do that?” Alaric demands. “It must be some kind of political game, but I can't see it. And if it hurts you like this… no, they can't do this to you.”

“They can,” I say. “They have. And… the alternatives were worse.”

I'm still crouched there, but Alaric draws me slowly to my feet. “You need to stay strong, Lyra.”

“How?” I ask. “How do you do it? You laugh at the danger and pretend like none of it matters.”

“But itispretense,” Alaric says. His expression clouds over with unhappiness. It seems like one of the rare occasions when I’m looking at the real him rather than the façade he puts up. “Sometimes that's what you have to do to get through the worst of this.”

“Is it different when you're a free gladiator?” I ask.

“I wish it were,” Alaric says. “You asked me before who my patron is. Who keeps calling me out of the fortress? The truth is… it's my mother.”

“Your mother?” I say. Of course, it's obvious that Alaric would have family somewhere in Aetheria. It's just as obvious that they would want to see him. What's less obvious is the way they've done it. “Why would she do it that way? And why keep it a secret?”

That gets another look of pain from Alaric.

“The truth is, when I say I'm here for honor and glory, what I mean is that I need them. Growing up, I was… kind of spoiled, I guess. The second son, never going to inherit. Kind of a screw up. I would run around the city doing what I wanted, partying, sleeping with who I wanted, causing trouble. I didn't care because there weren't any consequences for it.”

That sounds only a step away from who Alaric is, or who he pretends to be, at least.

“It got to the stage where my father was ready to disown me,” Alaric says. “Or at least, to arrange a posting for me to the furthest reaches of the empire and never have to worry about me again. He'd actually set it all up. He never wanted to see me again.”

“That’s… terrible,” I say. I had assumed that Alaric’s past was easy, filled with all the delights of nobility.

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