Chapter Twenty
“How did you arrange it?”
Ravenna is the one to ask the question, down beneath the colosseum, as she comes back from her bout.
The bout was short because her opponent wasn't strong enough to ward off the powers that she used against him. It didn't take her long to lure him to the edge of one of the higher points of the temple. She placed a kiss on his lips and then pushed him backwards, to fall.
Even then the bout wasn't done, because her foe was injured not killed. I had to watch as Ravenna walked down almost casually, giving the emperor a look and waiting for his decision.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!” The chanting of the crowd was almost at fever pitch as the emperor held out his hand, thumb down to signal death.
Ravenna didn’t hesitate, just drew her dagger across her opponent's throat. I find myself wondering if the battle would have gone the same way if Rowan hadn't cheated death. Is the emperor taking out his anger on the other gladiators who lose now?
“Arrange what?” I counter.
I wish Alaric were here to back me up, but he has gone to start his preparations for his bout. He will be fighting soon. It will be his turn, and noble or not, there is not likely to be much mercy out there if he fails.
I can see the other gladiators who are not preparing for their bouts looking over at me with suspicion. Even the ones who are not my enemies seem to be unhappy with me.
“Oh, there's no need to be coy,” Ravenna says. “It was obvious throughout your fight that neither of you was really trying to kill the other, were you?”
I can't tell her the truth about that, which is that she's right, just not for the reason she's insinuating.
“I don't answer to you, Ravenna,” I snap back at her.
“And then there's the interference in your bout over the flames,” Ravenna says. “It seems you're determined to get through this without ever having an honest fight.”
“And what would you know about that?” I demand, confronting her. “All you do is manipulate people and mess with their minds.”
Ravenna smiles. It's easy to forget just how beautiful she is, how deep it's possible to fall into her eyes.
“Wouldn't this conversation work better if you were on your knees, Lyra?” She whispers, and of course she's right. How could she be anything but right? Ravenna is the most beautiful and powerful of all of us, so naturally, I fall to my knees.
“That's enough,” one of the trainers snaps, and Ravenna's spell over me breaks.
She smiles again. “Just a reminder that you're not immune to what I can do. It's not a parlor trick. And if we face one another out there, you will kneel happily while I cut your throat. Won’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, before I can stop myself.
The other gladiators there laugh at that. Ravenna has proved her point about how powerful she is. She has also stopped me from refuting any of her allegations about me and Rowan. I'm sure that everyone there thinks now that we arranged the whole bout between us, that we rehearsed every step of it.
I have no doubt, as I get back to my feet, that the match between us looked bad. Rowan refused to engage for so much of it that even my attempts to attack him looked fake. I was throwing myself forward at him, and he wasn't replying with attacks for much of the fight.
“I wonder how many people are asking for their coin back on that fight?” Ravenna asks. “I wonder how much they will hate you for it, for costing them money?”
I wince because I know she's right. Betting is a huge part of the arena. People love to place their coin on their favorite gladiators, and hope that they succeed, or to bet against those they think are weak. The outcome of this bout might displease almost everyone. The sensible gamblers who know about us will have put their money on Rowan, because he is simply stronger than me, at least with my powers restricted. Even those who bet on me for reasons of sentiment or because they thought I would find a way to win might not be happy now, because there's a chance the bookmakers will refuse to pay out on a bout that looks so obviously fixed.
“Who did you put your money on, Ravenna?” I ask. I know that she likes to make money on the games. She likes the way her manipulations can build wealth and power for her, even from within the walls of Ironhold. “Who did you tell your noble friends to back?”
She smiles again. “I already made my money. Did you know that you can bet on what the matchups will be? People think they know the minds of the organizers.”
And she does. Again, I can't shake the feeling that she has some kind of control here. She's certainly hinting at it, but without any proof, what can I do? It's just another way of making me feel helpless.
Ravenna turns to leave, but pauses and turns back. “I wonder, since Rowan is technically the loser of this bout, will they allow these trials to count towards his freedom?”
It's just another way for her to twist the knife. It hadn't occurred to me that Rowan might have done more than injure himself to save me. He has survived his bout against me but if he can't continue, he won't come through the Champions Trials, and he won't get the extra season marked off on the brand on his shoulder.
Again, the thought of it makes me feel sick. Ravenna is finding any way she can to hurt me. Maybe she thinks that if she does it enough, I will come crawling to her, begging to be her ally. At this stage, though, it mostly just makes me angrier with her.
“Could they do that?” I ask the trainer who split us up.
He shrugs. "That's a matter for the higher-ups, not for the likes of me or you. But I guess if he can't fight, then he can't get through the rest of the games. Missing the rest of this trial is the least of his worries. They might make him fight injured. After what he's done, it's the least he deserves."
That thought is even worse than anything Ravenna suggested. If Rowan is made to fight now with a broken leg, even he won't be able to win. I have already felt what it is like to think I have lost him, but if they make him fight on, that could happen in truth, rather than just as part of his plan.
I want to go speak to him about all of this. I set off in the direction of the makeshift infirmary beneath the colosseum, where stone slabs are spread out, either to hold the injured or the dead. The healers within don't really care which. I know Rowan will be in there, and that they will be doing their best to restore him, if only because he is a more entertaining gladiator when he is fully fit than if he is injured. We get some of the best care available in Aetheria, in the same way that prize chariot horses are treated well. They want us to be able to perform at our peak, to give the most entertainment to the crowd before our deaths.
As I reach the infirmary, however, a guard blocks my way, holding up his hand to stop me.
“Halt there,” he commands, in the imperious tones of someone who knows that he is free and I am not. He looks me up and down, taking far too long about it. “As far as I can see, you aren't injured. Didn't get a scratch on you in your fight. You have no business here.”
“I wanted to see how Rowan is doing,” I say.
“Are you deaf? You have no business here. Move on.”
For a moment I think about pushing past him, just so that I can see Rowan and make sure that he is all right. But if I do that, I will be a slave gladiator attacking a free citizen of Aetheria. Even if I defeat the guard, the penalty for such a thing is likely to be harsh.
I step back instead, and as I do so, I see the cloaked figure of Malira walking out of the infirmary. She pauses in front of me, then lets the cloak fall.
“Do you like what you did?” she demands, as I stare at what is revealed.
The healers have done their best, but they cannot take away the scarring of the burns, or perhaps they don't want to waste the effort on it when they have other wounds to heal. It means that almost half of Malira’s body is covered by burn marks, the right half of her features twisted, her hair burned away. She looks like something out of nightmares, and she stares at me with hatred.
“You didn't have to attack me in there,” I reply.
“That's the arena,” she snaps. “But you cheated. You and your lover. Or one of them. I figure if the brute who works with stone is sacrificing himself to save you, more than one of them is getting a piece of you. But don't worry, I’ll thin the ranks for you.”
I know she is to fight Alaric. Before, I wasn't worried by that. I had assumed that she would be too injured to fight. Now though it seems that not only is she able to fight, she is more determined than ever.
“I’m going to make him pay for what he did,” Malira says. “Watch the fight closely. I want you to see the moment when I kill him. And remember, it won't be long before you join him.”