CHAPTER EIGHT
It isn’t easy, playing the part of Marcus’ prisoner.
He’s had me change for the journey out into the city, into a simpler dress more reminiscent of something one of his servants might wear, and no jewelry.
I walk by Marcus’ side, half a step behind him as if taking his lead in everything.
I do my best to look both sullen and obedient as we walk through Aetheria, as if Marcus has forced me to obedience only through threats.
I can feel eyes on us both, silently judging me, or taking in the spectacle of one former senator moving through the city as the prisoner of another. Some of them aren’t so quiet.
“Traitor! You’re lucky they gave you to the senator, rather than impaling you on a spike!”
I glance around automatically, just as a man on a market stall throws a piece of fruit at me.
My first instinct is to dodge it, and my anger says I should wade into an argument with the man.
After being treated like this so many times during the processions down into Aetheria for the games, I have no wish to go through it again.
But I also know I can’t seem like a threat, or something Marcus can’t control, or I risk being thrown back into my cell down beneath the city.
But I don’t have to worry, because Marcus reaches out a hand and catches the fruit almost effortlessly, fixing the fruit-thrower with a level glare.
“She is mine, and I will not have what’s mine tarnished. Understood?”
The other man backs away, his hands raised. “I meant no offense to you, Senator. Just to the traitor.”
“And do you doubt that Lyra Thornwind is being adequately punished at my hands?” Marcus demands. The man looks us over and I force myself to look down, as if Marcus has already broken my spirit.
“My apologies, Senator,” the other man says.
Marcus makes an annoyed sound and pushes me forward, so I’m forced to keep moving. I’m sure anyone watching will be convinced that I’m almost nothing to him now.
We’re heading towards the colosseum, which was big before the recent rebuilding work, but now towers over the city.
There are no games on today, but there are still a few vendors on the broad promenade leading to it.
There are statues set at intervals on the promenade, depicting famous gladiators and figures from myth.
There’s one of me there, although the head has been knocked from the statue leaving only the image of a barely clothed gladiator, covered strategically by the beasts that swirl around her, carved with such lifelike expertise that it seems as if they might leap out to attack anyone who comes close.
People have dared it, though, at least long enough to scrawl graffiti over the statue that insults me in every way the imaginations of Aetheria’s citizenry could come up with. Some of the lines make me blush to see them.
I can also see that another statue is being worked on in situ a little way away, larger than mine and more graceful, with a severity and sense of grandeur to it as the magical sculptor behind it shapes the stone with nothing more than will and power.
It’s an image of Selene, seemingly divided into two halves.
One is dressed as a gladiator, her foot on a fallen foe.
The other shows her dressed in noble robes, holding a book of Aetheria’s laws.
It might be an image of her in her former role as the arch-magistrate, but it could just as easily depict her as an empress.
“She’s getting a statue?” I whisper to Marcus.
He nods, raising his voice slightly. “The senate has decided to honor the greatest gladiator of the city at the moment with a suitable depiction. Whereas yours is being treated the way a traitor’s should.”
His words hurt, even though I know they’re for the benefit of the people around us.
There are always plenty on the way leading to the colosseum, there to soak in the atmosphere of Aetheria’s greatest building, or to buy small trinkets from one of the sellers who line the way.
We’re heading to one of them: a healer in brown robes who effects small cures for those who come to her.
Her hair is half jet black, half white, and spiked at odd angles.
I hadn’t been sure Thalia would still be here, but I’m glad she is. She looks at me as I head over, then at Marcus, staring at him with barely disguised distaste before she fixes a smile to her features.
“What can I do for you today, Senator? Is there something that ails you?”
Marcus looks to me and I nod faintly. He takes his cue from me.
“I want to be sure my new servant hasn’t suffered too many injuries in her period of imprisonment. I want her fit and healthy to serve me better.”
Thalia nods. “I can do that, of course. Come here, lady.”
I move next to her and she puts her hands on my shoulders.
I can feel her healing power running through me, seeking out all the scars from the guards’ whips, all the spots where their fists have had an impact.
Thalia’s magic starts to ease all those pains, even as her features crease in sympathy for me.
She takes the opportunity to lean closer to me. “Lyra, it’s good to see you again. Just say the word and I’ll cut him down, then take you to the others.”
I realize she thinks I’ve come here as part of some desperate escape plan, in which I’ve tricked my captor into taking me to someone who can help me. I shake my head quickly, keeping my voice low.
“I’m not here for that,” I tell her. “I’m here because I… we, need to meet with Alaric.”
Thalia steps back, frowning. “Now why would I let Selene’s favorite senator close to Alaric?”
“Because unless we all work together, we’ll never win against her,” Marcus says.
I see the surprise on Thalia’s face as she looks first at Marcus, then at me.
“You’re telling me that he’s fighting against Selene?”
I nod.
“And how do I know he isn’t forcing you to do this?” Thalia asks. “How do I know he hasn’t broken your will so completely that you’ll betray everyone around you for him?”
“If I were being forced to do this, I would have taken you up on your offer,” I point out. “As for the second part… do you really think anything would make me betray all of you? We need to talk to Alaric.”
“I… I’ll see what I can do,” Thalia says. “You’re at his villa? Then wait for a message from us there.”
We return to Marcus’ villa. I feel so vulnerable as we make our way through the streets, because I don’t have any way to look at our progress from above, can’t use the eyes of birds to tell if we’re being followed.
I glance around as much as I dare, but for the most part I must keep my head down, playing the part of Marcus’ obedient prisoner.
Marcus leaves me in his villa before heading out.
He doesn’t say where he’s going, although he changes into his senatorial toga, so I guess it’s official business.
I’m left waiting, and a part of me wishes Marcus had taken me with him, even as another part knows it’s easier if I’m here.
There are fewer people to interact with, fewer chances for the part I’m playing to go wrong.
I pace the house and none of the servants tries to stop me, although one steps in front of the doors when I get too close.
“I’m not trying to leave,” I assure him, but he watches me carefully until I walk away in any case.
The servants don’t talk to me, just go about their duties quietly. I wonder what they make of my situation, even as I know I can’t ask. All I can do is wait.
It feels like forever before Marcus comes home and the servants set out food for us again.
I eat with him, but even together, there are things we can’t discuss in case his servants overhear them.
Even if they aren’t going to betray him deliberately, it would only take one of them to slip and say the wrong thing, or be forced to speak by Selene, and we would be in danger.
I console myself with the thought that at least our silence seems to fit with the idea of me resenting Marcus for keeping me as his prisoner.
I retire for the night, settling down to sleep and wondering how long Marcus and I will be able to keep up this pretense. It feels so awkward, there being so many things we can’t talk about together.
I’m still thinking about that when I hear a sound out of place in the villa.
I know how Marcus’ home should sound at night.
I’ve spent enough time here when we were lovers, after all.
It takes me a moment to realize what’s out of place as I hear footsteps out beyond my room, but then I realize what’s wrong: all of Marcus’ servants wear sandals, while this is the softer scuff of light boots. Someone who doesn’t want to be heard.
I slip out of my room into the largely dark villa, and for a moment I think I’ve made a mistake. There’s no one who shouldn’t be there, just a servant moving with purpose towards Marcus’ room, complete with sandalled feet.
Only the sound isn’t that of sandals. There’s something wrong here. Something very wrong, when I see the flash of a knife in the servant’s hand as he opens Marcus’ door.
I rush forward, bursting into the room a couple of paces behind the servant. Marcus is there, standing ready with lightning crackling in his hands. Meanwhile the illusion of a servant’s outfit is fading from around the other figure leaving behind familiar dark hair and sharp features.
“Alaric!” I say. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you away from him,” Alaric says, pointing the knife at Marcus. “I couldn’t save you back in the prison, but I can do it here.”
“I don’t need to be saved here,” I insist. I step between Alaric and Marcus. “Stop, both of you. I didn’t ask you to meet so you could threaten one another.”
“I should have known you’d sneak in here,” Marcus says to Alaric. “You’re forever skulking about in the shadows.”
“At least I don’t spend my life appeasing a monster like Selene Ravenscroft,” Alaric snaps. “At least I’m not holding Lyra prisoner. What is it, Marcus? Do you think she’ll love you again if you hold her here long enough?”
Marcus’ lightning flares again, and now there are three versions of Alaric standing there, the better to confuse Marcus in the fight to come.
“Stop,” I say. “Both of you, stop. Alaric, Marcus has been pretending to side with Selene, while building plans to bring her down. Marcus, without Alaric and the resistance, you won’t have the numbers to win.”
I only have a few seconds to make them see how much they need one another.
If they can’t work together, Aetheria will be lost to Selene and her efforts to become the leader of a new empire.
Maybe it’s the urgency in my voice, but both of them take a step back.
Alaric sheathes his blade after a moment or two, and there’s only one of him there then.
Marcus lets the lightning dissipate. They’re both obviously still tense, but at least they’re not actively trying to kill one another.
“You really think I should work with him?” Alaric asks.
“I could say the same,” Marcus counters.
I nod. “I think this is our best chance. Just talk to one another. You might find that, if you pool information, you’ll find better ways to work against Selene.”
Alaric nods. “Very well, but I’m doing this for you, Lyra, not for him.”
Marcus also nods, warily. “Let’s take this downstairs.”