Page 8 of Ironhold, Trial Four

I've had to get used to those looks, both in Ironhold and in the colosseum. After every fight, the gladiators go to a receiving areato mingle with the nobility. It's an open secret that part of the purposeis because the nobles find the blood and violence alluring, and often take the chance toinvite gladiators away to side rooms for their pleasure. It’s one of the ways connections with the nobility are forged. As much as I hate it, they have spent their time staring at me along with everyone else.

But this look wasn't like that.

“This was morelike he knew who I was,” I say. “Like he recognized me.”

Rowan shrugs again. “Do you think there's anybody in the city who doesn't know who you are by this point, Lyra? You're famous. One of the survivors of the Champions Trials. The mistress of beasts. If you walked into the middle of Aetheria right now, everybody there would recognize you.”

It's easy to forget that part when I spend my time shut away in Ironhold. Easy to forget thatpeople have been watching my fights. Some of them have hated the ways I've used my powers, but more recently they have been cheering for me. When I killed Ravenna, the crowd went wild for my victory, even as it tastedlike ashes in my mouth. I'm not a fool; I know that I will be forgotten quickly if I fall in the arena, but for the moment at least, I am famous.

Maybe that's it. Maybe Callus has just seen a face that he has seen before on the sands. Maybe, but it doesn'tfeellike it. There was an intensity to his expression that I find hard to place. It felt… more personal, somehow.

I'm still trying to make some kind of sense of itwhen a trainer comes into the dining room, looking around until he finds me.

“LyraThornwind. You have a visitor.”

I freeze in place of those words, becausethe only visitors we get here are our patrons. Alaric’s own mother had to pay to become his patron in order to see him once he committed himself to the games. With me, the presence of my patron means one thing: the emperor is here.

Most of the gladiators around me look a little jealousbecause they do not get such visitors. Cesca looks wistful because gladiators who have not completed their first seasondo not have patrons at all. Others know who my patron is andbelieve it to be an honor. Even Vex looks a little jealous, because I suspect he would give a lot to have the emperor as his patron.

As far as I'm concerned, Vex is welcome to him.

Rowan looks worried, but not as worried as I feel. I have only just come back from being summoned down into the city to speak with the emperor. If he is here now, there must be a reason for it, andI cannot think of any reasons that will be good for me.

If I could, I would say that I cannot see my patron right now, but that is not how the system here works. Nobles paya considerable amount for the privilegeofa connection to a particular gladiator. They seek to outbid one another, because being linked to a gladiatorbestows a kind of prestigeand reflected glory upon the noble. It also gives them certain rights over the gladiator. Being able to come and see them when theywant is one of them. I would not be able to turn this request down even if my patron were not the emperor. As it is, a refusal would constitute defyingan imperial command. It would invite punishmentof the harshest sort.

“It will be all right,” Rowan whispers to me, but I'm not sure he believes it any more than I do.

I stand and go over to the trainer, who leads me away from the dining hall, along the twists and turns of Ironhold’s granite corridors. Those corridors are lit by the flickering flames of torches, which send distorted shadows scattering ahead of me. The trainer is not taking me up to the tower room where I have spoken to the emperor before but instead is leading me to somewhere deep within the complex of the fortress.

“Where are we going?” I ask the trainer.

“Just keep moving,” he says, with a note of irritation. “You don't get to ask questions.”

I'm starting to worry about where he's taking me. The fortress has plenty of rooms that are designed for punishingrebellious gladiators. Is he taking me to one of those? Has the emperor demanded that I be brought to somewherehe can watch me hurt or even killed?

I don't know, but Idoknow that I will be punished if I don't obey, so I must keep going, must follow the trainer down into the depths of Ironhold, to a spot where a low, iron-bound doorswings open in front of me. I hold my breath, waiting to see what is inside.

“Inside,” the trainer says, standing by the entrance.

I go inside, my heart beating faster at the prospect of what might be within. The chamber is dank and shadowy, but a figure waits for me within. As soon as I see that figure, shock rises in me.

“Lady Elara?”

The noble woman is in her forties, her dark hair piled high on her head, pinned in place by golden comb. She wears a pale gown trimmed with silver, and her dark eyescatch the torchlight.

“Shh!” she says. “It's better not to say my name here. Just in case anyone's listening.”

“You shouldn't be here,” I say, confused about what is happening. She was my patron before, but the emperor took that patronage away from her. She no longer has a claim over me, which means that she should no longer have the right to come into Ironhold to see me.

“It wasn't exactly easy,” she says. “But there's one thing that's always been true aboutAetheria: bribery works.”

She keeps her voice low.

“They believe I've bribed them to see youbecause I'm a foolish noble woman who has fallen for the gladiator who used to be hers. It's a risky tactic, because there's a chance they’ll spread the rumors for their own amusement, and those could still get back to the emperor's ears.”

He wouldn't be happy to hear such rumors. He would see it as interference withhis own plans. It might put both of us in danger. Which means that Lady Elara would only do it if there were a reason.

“Why have you come?” I ask her, being careful not to raise my voice. “Is it something to do with-”

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