Page 6 of Ironhold, Trial Three

“Were you planning to do many things wrong?” I counter. “Have you been out seducing noble women when I haven't been watching?”

“The rumors say thatyou'rethe one to watch in that regard,” Alaric says, with a hint of jealousy that darkens his expression.

The truth though in his case, the mysterious patron who calls him from Ironhold is his mother, while mine is Lady Elara, who seeks to teach me more about being a beast whisperer. Not that I've told Alaric that part, but he trusts me when I say that Lady Elara merely seems to have decided that I’m someone to be seen near. Perhaps he believes that I'm going to be a rising star as well.

“I can't be Ravenna’s friend,” I say.

“Well, we're making some progress, then,” Alaric says. “Soon, I will make you every bit as cold and ruthless as I am.”

I put my hand on his chest. “Do you know you’re neither of those things, right? I've seen the other side of you. You don't need to pretend with me.”

Alaric’s smile widens. “Or maybe pretense is all I have. Maybe I pretend to you that I'm sweet and light, when everybody else sees the real me.”

I shake my head. “You're not going to convince me that easily.”

“No? You know that I kill in the arena more easily than you do. Killing people just for the glory seems pretty cruel to me.”

He raises an eyebrow in challenge. It's as if he's trying to drive me away, to poke and prod at the edges of what I feel, as ifhe's still trying to find the limits with me. Maybe he is. Alaric is not someone who can leave things alone.

“Are you trying to drive me away?” I ask.

I hear him sigh. “Maybe I just know you need that much distance.”

“Why?”

“In case you need to fight me, Lyra.”

Those words are like ice in my veins. I know what he’s talking about.

“The third challenge,” I say.

Alaric nods. “Exactly. What will you do if you are drawn against me for it?”

“What will you do?” I counter.

“I… don’t know,” he admits. “I can't stand the idea of ever hurting you, but if we do nothing in that challenge, I'm pretty sure we both end up dead. Could I stand there? Could I let you just kill me?”

He says it as if he's actually considering it. I put my hand on his face and kiss him. "Don't think like that. We probably won't be drawn against one another anyway, and if we are, we will find another way. I won't kill you."

“And I'm pretty sure that I can't kill you,” Alaric says.

“Only ‘pretty sure’?” I say.

Alaric shrugs. “I like to be honest about these things. I care about you, obviously, but could either of us really deprive the world of… well,me?”

I laugh. It's probably what he wants. Somehow, Alaric has the knack of taking all the death in this place and turning into something to make fun of. His deliberately extravagant arrogance is a part of that.

“We’ll get through this,” I tell him.

“I hope so,” he says. “I want us to get to a point where I can actually dare to dream about the future.”

“You don't dare already?” I ask. “Aren’t you certain that you’ll make your five seasons?”

“Well yes obviously,” Alaric says, but then he lets the mask of his arrogance fall. “But we both know anything could happen. One sword thrust in the wrong place, that's all it takes. You know you've ruined me for the arena, Lyra?”

That catches me by surprise. I can’t imagine how anything I’ve done could possibly make it harder for Alaric to succeed in the colosseum.

“I've ruined you? How?”

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