CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“Well, don’t you look delightful,” Thalia says, looking me over in the room of the inn as I blush with embarrassment. “No, that won't do. You can't blush like some maiden who's heard a dirty joke. That's one thing that will make it clear you're not who you say you are.”
I bite back an irritated response because she's right about that part. If I'm meant to be playing the paid “companion” to her merchant, I'll need to seem unabashed, regardless of what happens tonight.
“This is almost right,” Thalia says. “But we need to change your hair, and you need more makeup. Come on, sit there on the edge of the bed. I'll deal with it.”
I sit still while she works on my hair, undoing the careful work of the servants at the palace, then tying my hair up in much simpler braids. She applies powders and paints to my face, holding up a mirror when she's done to show me the image of someone who I only barely recognize as myself.
“There's too much makeup,” I say.
“That's the point,” Thalia replies. “It will help to disguise your features, and it makes you look cheap enough that no one will look at you twice.” She passes me a slender dagger, something that will fit at the small of my back.
“Here, it's not as though you can walk in there with any bigger weapons.”
I have no doubt that Thalia will be more heavily armed under her merchant’s costume. She stands and offers me her arm. When I hesitate, she grabs my arm and puts it through hers.
“Remember that both of our safety relies on not being spotted. So play your part.”
I sigh and let her lead me from the inn, trying to ignore the eyes on us as we go.
Thalia doesn't hurry but strolls through the streets in the darkness, moving from the light of one glowing orb to another.
We head out to the fringes of the inner city.
We aren't in the slums but instead are in an old district close to the walls, where many of the buildings are crumbling and in need of repair.
Through the eyes of nighttime birds, I can see people approaching through the streets, converging on a location that looks like an old temple, long abandoned in favor of better locations closer to the heart of the city.
There are broken columns and fallen sections of roof, but nobody has bothered rebuilding it, or perhaps the sense that this is a sacred place has stopped them.
There are statues around the entrance, figures from myth and legend whose identities appear to have been lost. At first glance, the place appears abandoned, but then I spot the lights within.
Thalia leads the way to the entrance, pausing as a couple of tough-looking men step from the shadows, in nondescript delivery but wearing the now familiar symbol of a drop of blood against a ship's sail.
“Name?” one of them says.
“Jada Nessus,” Thalia replies. She holds out her invitation.
“And her?” the door guard asks.
Thalia laughs. “Do you think I care about her name?”
The door guard looks me over, and I know how dangerous this moment is, my heart beating faster with fear.
Plenty of people have seen me in the Colosseum.
If this man recognizes my face, he will know that this is a trick, and I have no doubt he'll respond with violence.
Even if he doesn't, somehow, then he'll turn us away.
Instead, he joins in with Thalia’s laugh. “No, I guess not. Jada Nessus, welcome. You and your guest.”
We go inside the temple structure, and instantly I see that someone hasn't allowed the interior to crumbling quite the same way as the exterior.
They've rebuilt enough of it to have seating and tables, couches, and hanging lanterns that give off a soft glow.
The statues here aren't obscure ones, but instead reference fighters from the games.
There are a couple of people wearing the colors of the gangs, but mostly, this is a place for the wealthy.
I see plenty of faces I recognize, nobles who seek to exert influence within the senate.
Each seems to have claimed a space with a gilded couch at its heart, their entourages around them and servants moving between them as they supply food and drink.
Not that all the nobles are seated. Many are standing to get a better view of a central space surrounded by pillars where I'm sure the fights are going to happen, or just to mingle with one another.
They aren't wearing cloaks or masks; clearly don't care who sees them here.
They've decided they're among like-minded people, and so have no reason to hide.
A serving girl moves to greet us, holding out a tray with goblets of wine. Thalia takes one but doesn't offer one to me, in a small gesture obviously designed to make it clear to the servant that I'm not of the same status.
“Allow me to show you to your couch,” the servant says, leading the way to another of the gilded couches set around the room. “Should I stay to attend to you?”
Thalia shakes her head as she sits. “If I want anything, I'll send this one for it.”
I perch on the couch beside her, leaning close to her.
“I can see so many nobles I know,” I whisper. “And the merchants are all wealthy ones as well.”
“You were expecting this to be some grubby pit fight?” Thalia says. “You saw the last one. Go see what you can overhear while I mingle. If anyone asks what you're doing, say you're trying to fetch wine for your mistress.”
It's a simple idea, but it's one that gives me the freedom to move around the space.
I stand and head off, trying to fit in with the crowds of hangers on, trying to overhear anything that will tell me who's behind all this.
There are doors towards the back and I guess that's where the gladiators will be warming up in advance of their bouts.
I listen in to conversations as I go.
“…telling you, Selene’s return isn't as good as everyone thinks for us. Sure, she wants some of the same things, but do you think she's going to forget who sided with the Republic?”
“She'll understand that merchants take the winning side. But maybe she does complicate things.”
I keep moving, knowing I can't stand in one spot for too long. I almost bump into a nobleman, and he rounds on me, anger in his eyes.
“Watch where you’re going.”
“Yes, my lord. Sorry.” I force myself to say it as nervously as possible. I can see the nobleman looking me over. Fear fills me. Does he recognize me?
“What are you doing here anyway? Are you part of the entertainment?”
“My mistress sent me to fetch wine for her,” I say, using the lie Thalia gave me.
“And what if I told you to join me on my couch rather than doing that?” the nobleman says.
I try to hide my anger, remind me myself that I'm playing a part. “My mistress would be disappointed in me. I’m sorry, my lord, but my time is already spoken for.”
He snorts. “Servants who say no to their betters. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He lets me go, at least, but I find myself wondering about his words. What does he mean “while it lasts”?
There seems to be some movement in the center of the temple space, and I hurry back to Thalia’s side, guessing that things must be beginning. A woman in the robes of a priest steps into the middle, staring out at the crowd.
“My friends. True citizens of Aetheria. We welcome you to another set of contests in honor of the city.
You here understand the virtues of Aetheria: martial might and magical prowess.
You've come to see those virtues in their highest form, in contests where life and death are on the line. Here, we feed the stones of Aetheria with the blood, magic, and pain of those who fight. In doing so, we honor the old ways of our city, and we understand the importance of those ways. The senate can try to change the nature of our city, but there is a natural order to things that they cannot overcome. That order will find itself restored.”
There's a cheer from the crowd, many of the nobles looking on hungrily.
“The contests will begin in a moment,” the priestess says. “But first, I think we should thank those who have risked so much to bring these true fights back to the city. Our organizers!”
She gestures to one corner of the room as those within the temple break into applause and cheering in support of the figures there. There are a few clustered together, and I guess not all of them are the organizers because there's a full entourage there, with servants and guards.
But there's one figure who stands out to me.
One figure whose presence makes my blood run cold.
He stands there smiling as if there's nothing wrong with him being here, as if his very presence isn't a betrayal of everything the city stands for.
He waves, taking the applause, enjoying the moment and reveling in it, delighting in being the center of attention.
It’s Marcus. Marcus stands there, identified as the organizer of the fights, not even trying to hide his presence there. So much starts to make sense for me, even as it feels my world is crumbling around me. Marcus is the one behind all this, and I… I don't know what to do next.