CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Wardens storm across the Circus, targeting groups of mundanes and sigilmarked. For a long moment, all I can do is stare.
The scent of burnt flesh is suddenly so heavy in the air, it coats my tongue, and I lean over and gag.
To our left, high in the stands, three wardens stalk toward a group of mundanes and low-level sigilmarked.
Some still chant furiously, while others attempt to shove their way out of the group.
Those with enough power raise shields to protect themselves and their families.
Others begin to beg for their lives, their voices high-pitched and terrified.
The wardens kill and kill.
“Why aren’t their shields protecting them?” I choke out.
“The wardens have harnessed aether,” Maeva chokes out. “It eats through basic shields.”
We need to get out of here. I grab Maeva’s arm, preparing to pull her with me.
“Wait, Arvelle, look!”
More wardens are storming toward the people just rows from us. Toward the sigilmarked family. The mundane farmers. The overtaxed, underfed, discontent citizens who stupidly voiced that discontent.
And the children in their arms.
I stumble over Maeva’s foot, both of us instantly changing directions. We don’t have to communicate. I’m already moving, jumping over the stone bench below us. And the one below that.
Maeva gets into position, standing with her feet spread, leaning down. “Go,” she says. “Throw them up to us!”
She turns to yell something at Kaeso and Garet. Garet immediately shakes his head, backing toward the aisle. Disgust claws into me but I’m already moving.
Chants turn to screams. The people below us have realized what is about to happen. The woman with the red hair begins shrieking as the warden approaches.
“Give her to me!” I scream.
Her eyes meet mine and she doesn’t hesitate. With one kiss to her daughter’s head, she throws her toward me. I lean so far forward over the stone bench below me, I almost unbalance. But I catch the girl with the tips of my fingers, hauling her close.
She’s so small in my arms. But she’s also surprisingly strong, and she squirms, crying out for her mother. I twist, handing her up to Maeva, who immediately passes her up to Kaeso.
The woman reaches for her son. He must be five or six—old enough to understand something is very wrong. But he’s shaking his head, backing away.
Suddenly, Leon is at my side. “Why are you always in the middle of the chaos?”
The woman pushes the boy toward us, but he’s fighting to stay with his father. The man next to him picks him up and throws him into the air toward us, scrambling onto the seat in an attempt to follow him.
Leon’s sigil flares, and his wind pulls the boy closer. The boy lets out a defiant scream, but Leon keeps pushing until he falls into Maeva’s arms.
“Go, Arvelle,” Leon orders through his teeth. “Move. Now.”
I can’t. The man is reaching for his wife, hauling her up onto the seat. The movement costs him, and I see the moment he realizes he’s not going to make it. Already, the wardens are shouting the group’s sentences.
The man shoves his wife, and she launches herself toward us, aiming for her children. For safety.
I reach out an arm, grasping for her. Heat sears my skin, and Leon slams into me. I hit the stone with a thud, bones screaming. Flames sweep over our heads.
The flames disappear.
It’s suddenly eerily quiet. In the distance, I can hear hooves on the track, the charioteers still competing.
Leon lifts himself off me, coughing. I peer over the stone bench, looking for any sign of life.
The bodies are little more than blackened flesh clinging to bone.
“Mama!”
Behind me, Kaeso and Maeva each hold a child. Garet stares at us, his face pale. I stare back. You fucking coward, I mouth.
“You can’t be seen with them,” Leon mutters, flicking a haunted glance toward the pulvinar. “Give the children to us.” Behind Leon, Albion stands, his face ashen.
I nod to Maeva, who pulls the boy in her arms closer. He’s quiet, still, staring unseeingly at the charred remains of his parents.
Screams and sobs echo throughout the Circus.
Several rows to our right, people begin laughing. The sound cuts through the horror, offensive and shocking.
Baldric and Hester.
Maeva’s sigil flares, and the stone bench crumbles to dust beneath them. They land with enraged screams, immediately searching for the culprit.
Leon leans close. “Hand them over. Now. You’re novices. If you’re seen with these children …”
He’s right. “Maeva. Let him go.”
She hesitates, finally handing the boy to Leon, who passes him off to Albion. “You’ll make sure—”
“We’ll search for family members. If they don’t have any, we’ll find them good homes,” Leon says.
Kaeso looks tortured as he gives the little girl to Leon, and she holds out her arms, screaming for him. She’s too young to understand what just happened, but she somehow equates the vampire with safety.
“You can trust Leon,” I murmur to Kaeso. “He would never allow a child to be harmed.”
Leon disappears, and I stare past Kaeso to Garet. Just yesterday, none of the sigilmarked gladians would speak to any of the vampires after the emperor ordered Tiberius’s guard turned for leaving his post. It was so easy for them to turn on Kaeso.
And yet the vampire didn’t even hesitate to save sigilmarked children today, while Garet stewed in his own cowardice. The same cowardice that got Tolva killed during the third challenge. Garet’s eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head, dropping his gaze. I won’t forget this.
A hand slams down onto my shoulder. Neris.
“You’re lucky the emperor didn’t see that,” she mutters. “You need to come with me.”
Maeva is still staring at the chariots, her eyes blank.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I murmur.
Exhaustion pulls at me and I follow Neris back toward the other imperiums. The wardens have melted away now, leaving death and despair behind. “When can we leave?”
“When the emperor does.” Neris’s expression is flat, but rage burns in her eyes.
Vallius shows no sign of boredom. No, he’s watching the chariots, his eyes intent as he leans forward, as if nothing has happened.
Sigilkeeper Drugov Nistor stands near the emperor, his expression carefully blank, his face white. Next to him, Maeva’s father places a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something.
“The emperor used the city wardens for this,” I murmur. “Instead of the Guard.”
“The Guard is under the emperor’s authority,” Neris says.
“Everything is under the emperor’s authority.”
“Yes, but Nistor is in charge of the wardens. It may be the emperor who gave the order, but the populace will only have seen Nistor’s wardens striking them down. He will be the one they blame.”
Micah stands with his feet spread, arms crossed, eyebrows lowered. But he’s shaking with fury. He spares me a single glance before returning his attention to the chariots. “Two laps to go.”
I stare unseeingly at the track, my mind replaying the moment I reached for the woman’s hand. If I’d just leaned a little farther. If I’d been a little faster. If I’d understood sooner …
Those children would at least have one parent.
No one speaks. Micah and Neris flank me, while several other imperiums slowly begin moving from where they were positioned in the crowd. None of them seem burned, although all are powerful enough to protect themselves from the wardens.
Did they protect anyone else?
I’m not sure I want to know.
The chariot race continues. The white team is in the lead. I’m sure people cheer, although I can’t hear them. I sweep my gaze over the crowd. People have moved, filled in the gaps where those who were killed had been standing. They’ve removed the bodies.
But they haven’t removed the black stains on the stone. The dark, greasy residue remains, and even the least empathetic avoid those seats.
“Why,” Tiernon grits out behind me, “am I hearing about Kelindra’s daughter saving sigilmarked children?”
Slowly, I turn. He runs his gaze over me and shakes his head. “We’ll discuss this later.” His gaze flicks to Neris. “We have a problem.”
I sidle back toward Maeva. “I’ll just …”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Tiernon doesn’t even look at me. He’s not Tiernon now. He’s the Primus. And whatever the emperor has ordered him to do has made him grim.
He jerks his head, and Neris and Micah follow him. After a single moment of hesitation, so do I.
Deitra, Lucius, and Orna meet us below the Circus, close to the entrance to the stairs leading to the emperor’s pulvinar. Most of the other imperiums remain either at the emperor’s side or scattered among the crowd.
“Vampire rebels were sighted here,” Tiernon says. “Along with several other well-known, dangerous sigilmarked and a collection of soldiers from Myrestorn. They’re attempting to hide their origin but our spies heard one of them speak in a Myre accent.”
Micah snorts. “The vampires may hate the sigilmarked, but they’re willing to ally with them to get the job done.”
“The enemy of my enemy …” Tiernon murmurs.
“They’re going to target the emperor,” Neris says.
“Yes. They’ve positioned themselves here somewhere. We’ve put out an alert, but the vampires are … powerful.”
Which means they’ll be excellent at hiding in plain sight.
“Why didn’t the wardens arrest them?” I ask.
Orna snorts, and I feel my cheeks heat.
Tiernon flicks me a glance. “They’re too dangerous for the wardens.”
“Yeah,” Neris mutters bitterly. “The wardens are only good for murdering Sentharan citizens.”
Tiernon gives her a sharp look before returning his attention to the rest of the group.
“Arvelle, Micah, and Neris, we’re taking the east side of the Circus.
Lucius, Orna, and Deitra, you take the west side.
The remaining imperiums will stay stationed and alert in each section.
They’ll tell us if they see any of the rebels. ”