CHAPTER EIGHT
I’m almost at the healers when I suddenly feel myself being watched. Stalked. Hunted.
It’s already a familiar feeling, and I sigh. “I know you’re there.”
The Primus steps out of the shadows, and even knowing he was watching me, his sudden presence makes me flinch.
Gods, I loathe these dark halls.
The Primus lowers his head, and I sense his attention on my palms.
My bloody palms.
My heart trips in my chest, my senses sharpening. Even the oldest vampires can occasionally falter. Even those with the most self-control can snap and drain a sigilmarked or mundane dry.
When they do, restitutions are usually made to the family—as long as that family has enough power to demand such a thing.
Would my brothers be paid for my life?
“Get that look off your face.” The Primus’s words are a soft threat.
I swallow. “What look?”
“You know what look. You should know better than to put your fear on display here.” He gestures at the gladians walking toward us, several of them watching curiously.
He’s right.
“Primus,” someone says, and he turns. I use the opportunity to back away a few steps—and even while he’s wearing that helmet, I can somehow feel his amusement.
Fury flashes through me. Of course he’s amused. If he wanted, he could reach out a hand and snap my neck.
“What is it, Neris?”
The woman prowls from the shadows, her black hair braided tight. It’s the woman who called me incompetent yesterday, and she rakes me with a dismissive look.
“You’re needed.”
The Primus doesn’t glance at me again, and I let out a breath as they both stalk away. Next to me, a lamp flickers, and I lean against the wall—
I fall backward with a yelp, stumbling. The wall disappears, and I’m suddenly staring at a small man with a bronze sigil who gapes at me wide-eyed.
An involuntary hiss of pain escapes me as I fumble for my dagger. My hands have swollen to the point that I can barely use them.
“Wait.” The man raises his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who are you?” I snap.
“My name is Jorah.”
“And why were you spying on me, Jorah?”
His eyes suddenly widen even more, until they’re huge in his pale face. His cheeks are full and round—giving him an almost childlike appearance. But I keep my hand on the hilt of my dagger all the same.
“I wasn’t spying. I swear.” He turns his attention to the wall behind me.
It’s not me he’s scared of. It’s the Primus. And I can’t blame him.
“The Primus, hmm?”
Jorah shakes his head frantically, taking a step closer. “I’m allowed back here. It’s my job.”
“What do you mean?”
He waves a hand and the lights brighten. And I realize where we are.
We’re behind the main corridor.
I’ve only seen one section of the area beneath the training hall. But the labyrinth of corridors and rooms must stretch out much farther than I’d imagined. And a second, hidden section of corridors allows anyone who knows about them to come and go as they please, hiding their movements.
“What exactly is it you do here?”
His chest puffs out. “I keep things in order. I make sure weapons are cleaned and stacked. I ensure the crystals are always filled with aether, so gladians have light. And water. I help create the mazes in the arena when the emperor demands them, and I make sure gladians keep to the areas where they’re supposed to be. ”
He gives me a long look, as if suddenly realizing I’m not supposed to be here.
Now that he’s finished talking, he seems almost lost.
He’s lonely. That much is evident. “Will you show me how it works?”
Excitement lights his eyes, and I smile at him. I don’t have much time if I’m going to visit the healers and change my clothes before we meet the sponsors. But this is an opportunity I can’t pass up.
I need to know everything I can about this place, and these hidden tunnels could be the key to my escape once the emperor is dead.
“I’m not supposed to …”
“Show me the corridors, and I won’t tell the Primus you were spying on him.”
Jorah frowns at me. “I wasn’t!”
“Who do you think he will believe when he learns about all these hidden tunnels?”
Jorah casts me a look filled with betrayal, and something twinges in my chest. But I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to save my brothers’ lives.
“Fine.”
He turns and gestures for me to follow him to a small room on the right. The lights surrounding us glow brighter, and I attempt to map our location in my head. We must be behind the common room. Jorah glides silently in front of me, and I force myself to keep my steps light.
He takes a left, and the tunnel spits us out into a larger room. A desk takes up one whole wall, parchment and books scattered across it. A plate of half-eaten food makes it clear Jorah was eating lunch before he went wandering.
I frown, attempting to map the space in my head. “This shouldn’t be here. Even with my sense of direction, it doesn’t work.”
Jorah smiles proudly, his annoyance with me clearly forgotten. “This ludus was built long before the emperor used it for his gladians. It was built before the vampires ever came to Senthara. I found a book in the library that said Anoxian and Viderux created it on a bet.”
I suppose it would make sense that the gods of battle and death would create a place such as this.
Jorah sighs. “Although the emperor would call such an idea blasphemy now.”
Because vampires worship only Umbros.
Jorah is already turning away, pointing to a large wooden frame. With a wave of his hand, the frame lights up, lines and dots appearing.
It’s an aerial view of the ludus.
Jorah waves his hands again and the ludus disappears before I can truly study it. It’s replaced with a small section of rooms and corridors. He points to two dots separate from the others.
“This is us.”
Despite the throbbing pain in my hands, I can’t help but stare. I’ve only seen a tiny slice of the quarters below the arena. But the rooms beneath the ludus must stretch for miles, far past the boundaries of the arena.
So much of this city is underground, and I would bet most residents have no idea.
“You know a lot about the ludus.”
His shoulders straighten. “Tiberius Cotta said I’m doing such a good job that one day, he’ll ask one of the imperiums to let me train with them.”
Tiberius Cotta? Never heard of him. But I widen my eyes as if he’s the emperor himself. I … like Jorah.
Jorah raises his hand, and the ludus is replaced by the arena. On one side of the arena, two floors deep beneath the ground, a cluster of dots are so close together they’re almost on top of one another.
Jorah follows my gaze. “Prisoners,” he says. “They’re kept separate from the gladians.”
As fascinating as this is, I can feel time racing away from me. I need to leave before I’m missed. Jorah gestures at my swollen hands.
“I can show you how to get to the healers without needing to use the main corridor. So you can avoid the Primus and the other gladians.”
“Thank you.”
I follow him down a dim hall, my every sense alert and on guard. “Who else knows about this place?”
“I don’t know. I only have access to half of it. There are others who know more of its secrets.” He gestures to our left.
“There are gladians everywhere right now. This will lead you to the healers without anyone seeing you.”
I shouldn’t trust him. I’ve just blackmailed him. If anything, this could be his revenge. But … I do.
“Thank you, Jorah.”
His cheeks turn pink, and he gives me a surprisingly sweet smile. “You should go, or you’ll be late. This corridor will take you to the outside.”
I stare at him. “The outside?”
“You’ll see. Just … don’t linger. No matter how tempted you are. Use the handle in the wall in the next place, and you’ll find yourself directly outside the healers’ quarters.”
I don’t understand.
But more importantly, how much does Jorah know about what goes on in the ludus? And are there hidden corridors like this in the imperial palace?
“How do I visit this place again?”
His brow creases and his eyes turn sad. “You don’t.”
Jorah gives me a surprisingly strong shove in the back, and I’m suddenly blinking against the brighter light.
The healers’ quarters are positioned to the far left when entering the gladians’ quarters. No doors punctuate the other side of the corridor, so I’d assumed this was the outer edge of the emperor’s underground labyrinth.
I was wrong.
I’m staring at a garden. No … a forest. It’s dusk, and the air is humid, fragrant with earthy scents. Towering, ancient trees stretch above the walls of the ludus, which are open here, allowing me to catch tantalizing glimpses of the night sky between branches.
The trees I’d caught a glimpse of when we’d approached the ludus. The warning glare Leon sent me when I opened my mouth to ask …
I’ve stepped into something that shouldn’t exist. How can this place possibly thrive here? How is it that I’m hearing the gentle bubble of a stream from somewhere to my right?
My cheeks hurt, and I raise my hand to my face. I’m grinning for the first time in weeks.
I can’t help it; I step farther into the garden, mesmerized by the riot of colors and scents. Leaning down, I suck in a greedy inhale, the scent of lilies and roses and jasmine warming my lungs.
A vicious roar cuts through the burble of the stream.
I flinch and drop to the ground. Leaves rustle as I bury myself in the undergrowth, ignoring the sharp sting of my abraded palms.
Despite my terror, I inhale another heady breath. It feels as if it has been years since I breathed in fresh air. Since I felt greenery beneath me.
Movement to my left.
My every instinct screams at me, and I freeze. Slowly, I turn my head.
The world does one long, slow spin, and my lungs turn to stone.
The creature’s scales are a pure, unrelenting black. I catch a single glimpse of long, brutally sharp teeth, and slam my eyes shut.
Jorah wants me dead.
That’s the only reason he would—
Use the handle in the wall and you’ll find yourself directly outside the healers’ quarters.