CHAPTER SEVEN LYRA
I don't sleep well that night, troubled by dreams of Alaric and of Rowan. The two seem to shift places in my thoughts, so I can't tell which of them I'm with from moment to moment, which I dream of holding me, which I remember fighting alongside.
My dreams flow back to the moment when the emperor was holding Alaric and me frozen in place, along with the many members of the rebellion fighting against his rule.
I remember inhabiting the mind of a bird, sending it down like an arrow to strike him.
I remember the feeling of the impact, the sudden breaking of his control.
Only, in my dreams, it doesn’t happen like that. In my dreams, the emperor freezes the bird as well, before moving to Alaric, and now Rowan is next to him, and he has a knife in his hand…
I wake, sweating, in a room that's far more luxurious than any I've had before, because I've been assigned one in the palace. It seems that any member of the Senate can claim rooms there to work from or live in, and Rowan has found a suite for me.
I'm not sure how I feel about sleeping here in this place. It certainly doesn't seem to be giving me good dreams.
Clothes have been left for me, a dress of expensive blue cloth edged with gold, and comfortable slippers.
I didn't hear a servant enter the room, which is also worrying.
Back in Ironhold, I wouldn't have slept through someone getting that close to me because it would have left me in danger.
It seems that a year of living peacefully in Seatide has left me less focused on survival.
Automatically, I reach out for the animals around me, getting a sense of everything that's happening in the palace through the eyes of birds and mice.
It means I see Rowan coming down the hall and open the door even as he reaches it.
He's not dressed in his formal toga today, but he's still wearing clothes finer than any he would have back in Ironhold.
His tunic is embroidered with silver, and he wears bracers of copper filigree, worked with the symbols of the Republic.
“I should have guessed that I wouldn’t be able to approach without you noticing,” Rowan said. “How did you sleep?”
I shake my head. “Not well. I don’t like being in the palace.”
“Just remember, it isn’t a palace anymore,” Rowan says. He looks me up and down with a smile. “You look good in that dress, Lyra.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Did you bring me all this way just so you could admire my appearance? I imagine the first senator has more than enough women throwing themselves at him.”
“A few,” Rowan admits. “Nobles wanting to link themselves to my office, merchants sending their daughters or people they’ve paid to try to gain influence over me. I’ve had offers of marriage for my sisters, as if they’re pawns in some game to be bartered for position and influence.”
He sounds troubled, and it’s obvious he hasn’t just brought me here because he thinks he can rekindle something with me.
“I’m still not sure what I’m doing here, Rowan.”
He sighs. “My hope is that you can help me to resolve some of the tangled politics of Aetheria.”
"Me?" I have a hard time believing that I can do much with politicians. My skills lie in fighting and in controlling beasts.
“Do you feel like taking a tour of the city?” Rowan says. “Maybe I can show you some more of what’s going on here.”
He looks at me expectantly, holding out his arm. I surprise myself by taking it, walking with him along the halls of the palace, and then out of it. A couple of guards start to fall into step behind us, but Rowan shakes his head.
"Something tells me that I'll be safe enough with the champion of the Colosseum," he says. It's enough to get the guards to leave us alone as we set off into the city. "You have no idea how rarely I get to go anywhere without guards these days."
I can hear the tension in his voice, the regret. I wonder how much the role of the first senator is wearing on him.
We make our way through the noble district of Aetheria, which is looking almost as grand as it did in the days of the empire. Only one thing is different.
“There aren’t as many magical decorations,” I say.
On the days of games or festivals, the city would be festooned with illusions depicting the gladiators who were to fight, or artistic works in tributes to different noble houses.
There are still a few, here and there, but not the cascades of magic I’m used to.
“The nobles don’t want to show as much extravagance these days,” Rowan says. “But they’re also holding back because they’re worried about Aetheria’s magic.”
“What about it?” I say.
Rowan shrugs. "Magic flows from the stones beneath the city. It gives people their gifts and talents. But in the old days, it was fueled by the games, and before that, by sacrifices in the temples."
The emperor himself told me that about Aetheria. It was part of why he insisted on bringing any magic users from outside the city back into it, why I was brought to it. The idea was that we would die in the games, our magic flowing back into the stones.
“You’re saying magic is running out here in Aetheria?” I say.
Rowan shakes his head quickly. “We have no reason to believe that. Maybe, maybe fewer people will be born with strong magical gifts, but there’s no sign that magic itself is weakening. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what people believe. What the nobles believe.”
We keep walking, heading out into one of the merchant districts, walking through a market which bustles with people. There are several empty stalls, though, impossible to miss.
“The merchants complain that the trade routes are more difficult now,” Rowan says.
“What they mean is that they aren’t able to just go out into the empire and claim anything they want.
We have to build new trade links, and thankfully some of the outer regions of the former empire are willing to work with us. ”
I can tell from his tone that it isn’t as easy as that. We’re already making our way from the merchant district, though, heading into the slums beyond the walls. I can see furtive glances sent our way, and I can feel the prickle of unseen eyes on my back.
“Why haven’t you done something about the slums?” I ask.
"I'm trying," Rowan says. "But it's only been a year and every time I suggest something there are arguments, people telling me we don't have the money, or it will create complications, or that we need to put resources in elsewhere.
It doesn't help that the gangs who helped in the rebellion are still entrenched in the slums, and the Senate doesn't want to do anything that will help them.
Well, those members who aren't connected with them. "
The more time I spend back in the capital, the more of a sense I get of a complex web of competing interests, making it hard to get anything done.
Rowan isn’t done with his tour yet, though, because the two of us walk up out of the city, heading for the dark stone expanse of Ironhold. The gates are open, and I can hear the clash of weapons within as we approach.
I frown. “Gladiators are training?”
“Not gladiators,” Rowan says. “We train the city guard up here. We want them ready to fight against any threats to the Republic. Come on, let’s see them in action.”
He heads inside before I can say anything, leaving me to follow.
Inside, I see lines of guards in the same white and gold armor as all the others around the city moving in concert, drilling with swords and shields.
Some of them work at training posts, battering them with their weapons, working smoothly.
It reminds me of the days I spent training here, sparring with blunted weapons, running and carrying rocks.
I can see the guards taking breaks here and there, in a way we wouldn’t have been allowed to.
Our trainers would have beaten us if they caught us slacking, and in any case, we didn’t dare to stop.
We all knew we needed to be at our very best for each set of games, because any hesitation, any weakness, might be the difference between life and death for us.
“They need to spend more time sparring with each other,” I say. “They look good, drilling in neat lines, but you know as well as I do that isn’t how fights work.”
“It isn’t,” Rowan agrees, “and I’ll say something, but they might not listen. The soldiers insist that fighting in the arena is completely different to fighting in orderly ranks in a battle. Even when it comes to something I know about, I get pushback.”
He clearly isn’t enjoying his time as the first senator of the Aetherian Republic. Which makes me wonder why Rowan hasn’t stepped away from the role. Maybe he doesn’t think he can. Maybe he’s convinced he can do more good if he stays.
We start to make our way through the buildings of the fortress, through places that have been turned into barracks for the soldiers, rather than spaces to imprison gladiators between bouts. The spaces higher up that used to be for nobles now seem to be for officers and administrators.
One room seems to have retained its use: a grand, open place on one of the upper floors that used to serve as a combination of temple and gallery holding statues and paintings dedicated to gladiators of the past.
I’m familiar with the statues of this room, the plaques telling those who read them of the achievements of those they depict. This room contains a history of people who have fought and died for the entertainment of Aetheria’s crowds.
I’m shocked to see new statues there, too.
There’s one of Cesca, the young gladiator I defeated and left bound in one of my last bouts after she betrayed me.
There’s a likeness of Vex, with daggers suspended around him on wires.
There’s a statue of Rowan, which is crafted to look as though he’s the one shaping his own likeness out of a block of stone.
And there’s one of me.
The sculptor has taken liberties with my appearance. They’ve made me into something sensual, dressed in the barest scraps of armor. I’m also terrifying, standing with a collection of creatures gathered around me, looking as though they’re on the verge of pouncing on anyone looking my way.
“What’s this?” I ask Rowan.
“You didn’t think there would be a statue to you?
” he counters. “There are plenty. You’re a legend, Lyra.
One of the most important gladiators to have fought in the games.
You’re the one who slew the emperor and proved to Aetheria that beast whisperers aren’t the monsters the emperor made them out to be. ”
“And you couldn’t get them to sculpt me with more clothes?” I say.
Rowan smiles. “Maybe I wanted to be able to picture you this way.”
He moves closer to me, then pulls away quickly. There’s too much between us for things to be easy now. I chose Alaric over Rowan, even if Alaric isn’t here with me now. And I walked away from the capital, while Rowan chose to stay and do what he could to help.
“You still haven’t told me exactly what you think I can do here,” I say. “You’ve shown me a tangled up political situation, but that’s not something I’m skilled with.”
“You managed to balance the different groups trying to overthrow the empire,” Rowan says. “And I think you’re underestimating yourself. You’re a famous, respected figure, Lyra. People will listen to you. Maybe you can help to influence things here for the better.”
I don’t know what I’m going to be able to do, but I must admit it’s hard to just ignore the things that are happening in the capital. If I can do anything to help, I will.