CHAPTER FOUR
Alaric proves difficult to find. He isn't back in his rooms, and there are so many twists and turns to the fortress that he could be anywhere. He's obviously avoiding me, which is frustrating, especially since his reasons seem so foolish. Pulling back from me because he knows he will have to leave soon feels like cutting off an arm because a finger is injured.
I can’t just think about Alaric, though, so I head to the bathhouse to get rid of the sweat and dirt of training before heading to the dining hall. Ironhold’s great dining hall is filled with gladiators, some free, most captured and enslaved. I make my way through them, grabbing a bowl of stew and a hunk of breadbefore heading for the spot where Rowan is sitting with Zara and a couple of others. It helps to have friends around me in the dining hall because I have been in fights here before. Even here, I must think about protecting myself.
I can see the cause of several of the fights standing across the room. Vex is there, golden haired and blue eyed, with a faint network of silvery scars on his face, tall and leanly muscled, wearing noble robes over his gladiatorial gear, as if to remind us all of his status. The large gladiator Arctus is near him, ferocious as a pet wolf would be. He has latched onto Vex as a way to get through his time in Ironhold. Arctus has attacked me before on Vex’s instructions.
Vex does not like me. Partly that is because he's a noble gladiator and I am not. Partly it's because I am a beast whisperer, able to communicate with animals and control them. In Aetheria, my kind has been persecuted ever since the emperor saw that one of us might be a threat to him. Partly, it has to do with the web of faint scars on his face, almost invisible but there, inflicted in one of our bouts.
“How was your training?” Rowan asks me as I sit down.
“Alaric is pulling away from me,” I say, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. Should I really be talking to Rowan about my relationship with Alaric? “He won't be near me now. He barely has anything to do with me. He says he's pulling back becausehe's getting close to his five seasons.”
“Maybe that makes sense,” Rowan says. “When he's gone, you'll have to rely on yourself and everyone elsearound you. He won't be here for you.”
“That doesn't mean he can't be there now ,” I insist.
Rowan shrugs. He always has difficulty discussing Alaric. The two don't get on well. I think I'm the only point of connection between them, an ally to both of them, and more in the past. I was briefly together with Rowan at the start of my time in Ironhold, found myself drawn to him by attraction and a shared need for some kind of human contact. Yet it is Alaric who has claimed my heart more recently, and not just because he is almost painfully beautiful. Underneath his veneer of arrogance, he is sensitive and kind, loving and thoughtful.
But he isn’t here right now. And he hasn't been much of an ally in the last couple of weeks.
“And just remember that he's not the only one who's there for you,” Rowan says. “He might want to cut himself off, but you don't have to do the same. I’m still here. We all are.”
As much as this place lets anybodybe there for anyone else. After all, it's a place where we trainto be ready for the moment when we must fight each other in the arena. People hold back their secrets here, and don't let anyone see what they really feel, afraid that almost anything could be used against them. It means that tension seems to hang in the air like fog.
“Thanks,” I say to Rowan. There is something comforting about his presence near me, as solid as the earth with which he works. Having Rowan around feels both reassuring and safe, although he hasn't always felt safe. Even now there's a part of me thatresponds to his presence so near, a part I must push down becauseresponding to it in any way would be a betrayal of Alaric.
How much of a betrayal, though? It’s almost more normal for people to sleep around here than to have a real relationship, taking out the tension and relieving the fear that comes with the constant closeness of death. Alaric isthe one pulling away from me, telling me that whatever we have hadhas been a purely physical and brief affair, with nothing else behind it. I don't know if he's serious about that, but even the way he's refusing to be near me hurts.
Yet I can't use that as an excuseto just throw myself at Rowan, however much a part of me insists that I should. Rowan is strong and dependable. He is always there. He is a steady stone where Alaric is a stormy sky. And yet, I will not betray Alaric like that. I will not make things complicated that way with Rowan either. We seem to have settled into friendship, but no more than that. Shaking the foundations of that would be the most dangerous thing I could do.
There are those within Ironhold who bounce from bed to bed, either because they seek the safety of strong allies and are willing to give themselves to the strongestto ensure that, or because they feel that their lives might end at any moment, and they are determined to fit in as much living and pleasure before that instant as they can. I am not one of them. I can’t be, with Rowan.
“You will have the same problem as Alaric soon,” Rowan says. “You will have finished your time here, or you will be close to it. Have you thought about what that would be like?”
In truth, I haven't dared. I haven't been able to think about life after the arena because I know how easily my life could end in the colosseum still, or in Ironhold. I know that even if I make it out of the colosseum, there is every chance that the emperor will still try to find a way to have me killed because of what I am. He thinks I’m his enemy, and honestly? I'm still not convinced that I'm not his enemy. This is a tyrant, after all, who has forced me into battle against beasts and gladiators again and again.
I shake my head. “I haven't thought much beyond that moment. I know you're planning to get away as fast as possible. As soon as you'vegotten your sisters free.”
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 give themselves over. 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 day he 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.