Page 7 of Ironhold, Trial Four

Rowan’s expression darkens. “That still isn't easy. Lady Tyra… she's still demanding to see me.”

Lady Tyra is the noble woman who used to own him. She is responsible for a faint, silvery scar on his cheek. She did that when she tired of Rowan, simply because she could.

“But she isn't your patron,” I point out.

“I'm not sure that matters when she has my sisters,” Rowan says. “Even when I eventually get free, I will still have to find a way to get them away from her. She won't let me have them easily.”

“You'll find a way,” I insist, reaching out to put my hand over his. Rowan's hands are so much larger than mine that the gesture is almost comical, but he seems to take a measure of comfort in it.

“That isn’t a problem for now, anyway,” Rowan says. “I still have three seasons to go.”

Three seasons, when Alaric has only one and I have two. It means I will be leaving Rowan behind in much the same way that Alaric is leaving me. I won't have the chance to come back and see him, because only noble patrons can do that. The most I might manage is to catch a glimpse of him at the games, and I am not sure I want to go to the colosseum to watch Rowan fight, and possibly die.

Is that how Alaric feels about me right now? Is he pulling back because he knows he won't be able to see meonce he is free? There's a certain twisted logic to it, but it still hurts.

I'm still thinking about that when a new gladiatorwalks into the dining hall. I have not been present for his testing, for the endless exercises and challenges designed to try to break people's wills when they are first given over to the games. Or, in this case, when they givethemselvesover. He does not have an iron collar around his neck, although he hardly looks like a nobleman either.

He is taller than me, muscular without being heavily built, with short black hairand grey eyes that seem to drink in the light. Where most new gladiatorswould look around the dining hall with either fear or bravado, he seems calm.

“Who is that?” I murmur to Rowan.

“His name's Callus. From what I hear, he's a null.”

“A null entered voluntarily?” I say, barely able to believe it.

Nulls are those without any magical powers. He would have had to declare the nature and scope of his magic when he joined the arena, but it is hard to imagine that anyone without such powers would willingly step into the colosseum. It wouldrequire a degree of confidence in his abilities beyond simple arrogance, bordering on delusion.

I wonder ifwe should seek to make him a part of our little group, but I don't know him well enough yetto know if he will be a friend or a foe. In any case, Vex seems to be determined to get him first.

“Welcome,” Vex says, moving forwards. He is far more charming than he would be with a slave gladiator. “It’s Callus, right? My understanding is that you have been a warrior with some of the mercenary bandsthat support the imperial army?”

The strangest thing is seeing Vex attempting to be friendly. It's not a side of him I get to see, because even from my first dayhe made it clear that he thought I was less than him. With Callus, though, he seems to be making an effort.

Callus stares at him with a narrowed eyes. “Did you want something?”

His voice is deep, seeming to rumble out from his chest.

“Merely to welcome a fellow free gladiator,” Vex says. “There is nothing greater than someone who sees the importance of the glory and honor of the games. Who joins, not because he has been forced into it, but becauseit is an ancient tradition, deserving of respect.”

Callus spits on the floor at Vex’s feet. “That's what I think about your tradition, nobleman.”

“Have a care,” Vex says, his tone changing. There is a dangerous note in his voice, and there is no doubting just how able to back it up Vex is. He is a kineticist, able to levitate small objects and move them with his mind. In the arena, he levitates knives, sending them at his opponents like living things thirsty for blood. “I will not suffer my noble heritage to be insulted.”

“All of you high-borns are so proud of your heritage, but what have you actually done?” Callus demands. “Let me guess, you came over to me because you thought I'd be grateful for someone like you showing me a little attention? Because you want me to join your little group of followers or whatever you have? Because you want me to run around after your every whim?” He spits again. “You nobles are all the same. I'm free, but I'm not like you. I wouldn't want to be. Now get out of my way.”

He stares deep into Vex’s eyes, and to my surprise, Vex steps back, letting him pass. Callus walks by him without even looking at him again. Instead, inexplicably, his eyes seemed to be fixed on me.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I tell you, he was just staring at me,” I say to Rowan, as we sit there.

“Why would he?” Rowan asks. He obviously didn't see the same thing I did, despite sitting next to me.

“I don't know,” I say. “That's what makes it so strange.”

“Maybe not that strange,” Rowan says. He looks me up and down. “Maybe he just likes what he sees.”

I shake my head. “This wasn't that. It wasn't just because he'd seen a woman he liked the look of.”

---