Page 43 of Ironhold, Trial Three

Vex raises his hand triumphantly, as if he has only just won a fight, rather than this being the ceremonial occasion. Alaric waves to the crowd. I stare out at them, looking from one person to the next, trying to guess what it is that makes these blood-soaked games so popular.

The emperor is waiting in his box, staring down at us with Lord Darius beside him.

“Gladiators, you have faced some of the greatest challenges in the last few days. The Champions Trials are designed to push beyond the usual limits gladiators face. You have also faced treachery and still come through it. Those of you who have survived have shown yourselves to be the best of Aetheria, strong in your magic, deadly in combat. All of us here salute you!”

The crowd roars in response to his words, the noise of it washing over me like the ocean, too great for me to pick out individual voices. Yet, I can hear my name being chanted. That isthe fickle nature of the crowd. At the start of the day, they were booing me. They hated me. Now I have given them the death they crave, and they have forgiven me everything else. Perhaps they have decided that me not killing my opponents the way they wanted was all Ravenna's fault, and that I have now shown I can be who they want me to be.

“You have succeeded, and so you have earned your reward. Darius!”

Lord Darius steps forward, lifting a hand and concentrating, making a single downward motion with one finger. It is a piece of theater because I know he could do this with just a thought.

Pain blossoms in my left shoulder as I am burned by his power. I see all the others there wince, as the same pain flows through them. A fresh mark now runs across the circular brand on my shoulder, making three in total. Two more and I will be free. That thought should make me happy, but instead I can only think about Rowan, who is stuck on two, thanks to the decision of the emperor, and about all those who have died so I can get this far. And what I must do to earn those last two marks.

I swallow at the thought of how hard the road ahead is likely to be. Ravenna and her manipulations are gone, but that doesn't mean that I'm safe. I'm anything but that, when my life still consists of training to be thrown into the colosseum against other gladiators skilled with weapons and magic.

“Gladiators, go, return to Ironhold,” the emperor commands. “Enjoy your rest for now, but also prepare. The colosseum will see you again, soon enough.”

We leave, walking back to our fortress prison along routes lined with the adoring public. We pass the temple to the gods, and Vesper’s body is already outside it, bloodied and impaled in sacrifice for his role in trying to manipulate the games. I feel a twinge of sadness at that. I liked him a little. He made me likehim, made me trust him, and although that betrayal hurts, it also hurts to see his fate.

But it could so easily have been my fate. If Ravenna had convinced the emperor, we wouldn't even have fought. I would have been taken here and killed in what looks like the most horrific way possible. I am grateful to have avoided that, but it's just one more reason why I do not feel the elation of the others as we head back to Ironhold.

Within the others are gathered in the main practice ground. Lord Darius stands there at the front of the yard, looking out over us.

“The games are done,” he says, “and we honor the dead as we always must. Some lost their way. They lost sight of what the games are about. Remember that they are a holy thing, and that to go against them is to go against the whole of Aetheria.”

He looks to where Rowan is standing, then looks my way, as if warning the two of us not to repeat any of what we've done in these games. Rowan looks dejected at losing his chance to keep moving towards freedom. He will need another three seasons now, where I need only two.

“The fallen!” Lord Darius says, slamming his fist against his chest and then raising it in salute to the dead.

“The fallen!” we echo. Some rituals can’t be ignored. And there are other traditions too. As soon as we are done remembering the dead, the gladiators spread out, music and wine flow, and we celebrate our survival and success.

This is a strange celebration because ordinarily, everyone involved would have taking part in the games. As it is, many of the gladiators at Ironhold haven't played any part in the Champions Trials. But they still take the chance to let off steam. Zara is dancing with wild abandon. I see Cesca drinking quietly in the corner, while Arctus gotten hold of a leg of chicken onthe horn of wine. Around me, gladiators are celebrating and enjoying themselves.

Alaric tries to pull me into the mess of it, a smile on his face as he leads me out to dance with him. It's a moment when I should feel close and connected to him, when I should be caught up in the joy of having survived. This should be a night where we fall on one another with passion and need, as we have done before.

"I don't think I can handle all this noise and celebration," I say, whispering close to him.

“We could go somewhere else,” Alaric suggests.

I shake my head. "Not right now. I know you want to enjoy the party, and I'm not going to drag you down."

“You wouldn't be,” Alaric insists, but I know better. I know him. In this moment he wants to lose himself in wine and song and movement. Normally I would join him. Right now, though, I don't feel as though I'm done remembering the dead.

“You stay,” I say. “We'll find each other soon enough.”

I leave the party, heading for the beast pits since they're the place in the fortress where I feel most comfortable. None of the others get in my way. Even Vex seems to be giving me a wide berth after what I did to Ravenna.

The beasts are calm down in their pens and cages. They seem to sense that none of them will be called on to fight in the immediate future. I head for the pen that holds the shadow cat I have bonded with. It comes to me, rubbing up against me and letting me pet it the way I might with a kitten rather than a great cat imbued with magical abilities.

I sit with the shadow cat, stroking its fur. I should feel vindication, relief, even joy at having exacted my vengeance on Ravenna, and at having survived the games. I don't feel any of those things. I still feel like I'm being used by the city. Controlled in a way that I don't like.

After a little while a figure comes and sits in in the pen with us. I'm surprised to find it's Rowan. He doesn't normally come down here.

“I didn't feel like staying at the party,” he says. “I don't have much to celebrate. Do you mind if I stay?”

I shake my head. I don't want to speak, but Rowan's presence is comforting. We're both the same in a lot of ways. We both have the iron ring around our neck that signifies our status as slave gladiators. Neither one of us wants to be forced to be a part of all this. And looking at Rowan, it's easy to remember just how close we were once.

We sit there together. Nothing more than that, but it's enough. His presence near me is a comfort, and it's almost enough to let me forget that soon I will have to fight in another set of games.

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