Epilogue
I return to training, working alongside Alaric, Rowan and a few of the others. Alaric pauses in our training shortly after Rowan and I finish a practice bout.
“I want to suggest something,” he says, looking to the pair of us. “Lyra and I are already allies, but I think the three of us should all be allies.”
That's a big offer from him. In this place friendship is one thing but declaring an alliance means looking out for one another, being willing to fight by each other's side, being willing to put our lives on the line for one another.
“I didn't think you liked me,” Rowan says.
“And you don't much care for me,” Alaric retorts. “But that doesn't stop us from looking out for one another, and I trust that you will do all you can to keep Lyra safe. That's enough.”
Rowan looks thoughtful. “I thought it was the likes of Vex who had little coteries of allies.”
“A smaller group by the day,” Alaric says.
That's true. Vex has only a few friends around him now. He still has status as one of the noble gladiators, and is one of the survivors of the Champions Trials, but Ravenna is dead, Malira is dead, and it must be starting to look to others that hanging out with him is not safe.
“An alliance makes sense for us, Rowan,” I say. “We can look out for one another.”
“Until the day you're both out of here,” Rowan points out. “You're up to four seasons now, Alaric.”
“My aid for even one more would be of use, wouldn't it?” Alaric points out. “And such an alliance doesn't necessarily end because one person leaves Ironhold. You might benefit from an ally on the outside.”
Rowan looks thoughtful again. It's obvious he doesn't particularly want to be allies with Alaric. The two of them aren't friends even now, but this will help him, will help all of us.
“Very well,” he says, offering his wrist to Alaric. The two of them clasp wrists, and I put my hand into the mix. The three of us are far stronger together than apart.
“Lyra,” a trainer calls out. “Come this way.”
He has a couple of guards with him, making the seriousness of the command clear. I must go, leaving the others and following the trainer through Ironhold.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It's time for you to meet your new patron,” the trainer says.
“Who is it?”
The trainer doesn't answer, just keeps walking said I must follow. My mind races with the possibilities. There are only so many nobles who are wealthy enough to outbid Lady Elara, and the question is why they would want to. What will they demand of me? How badly will I be punished if I try to refuse? When all is said and done, I don't have a choice in what I do here. Does one of them merely want to be associated with me, or do they want more?
We head up and up through the fortress, not to the same room that I met Lady Elara in, but to a different room in one of the higher towers. The door swings open as I approach, opened ahead of me by a guard. The room beyond is hung with silks in purple and gold, while the furniture is gilded wood, carved with scenes of figures entwined in what might be battle. Rich incense fills the air.
At the heart of it all is a gilded chair. And on that chair, waiting for me, is the emperor.