Chapter 10
I woke before Livia entered my chamber, my nerves refusing to grant me the comfort of sleep any longer. The thought of the Maw pressed insistently at the edges of my mind.
The exhibition match at the Aedile’s villa had been contained, almost ceremonial in its violence. Today would not be.
Livia arrived soon after, and I rose at her urging, letting routine guide me.
We washed in near silence, the quiet not uncomfortable.
When she returned with breakfast, the scent of warm bread and honeyed fruit filled the room, comforting in a way my body refused to accept.
My stomach remained tight, coiled with a restless energy that made it difficult to sit still, let alone eat.
“Thank you,” I murmured, offering her a faint smile as we settled together. I forced myself to take a bite anyway, more out of necessity than desire. Facing today on an empty stomach would only make things worse.
Livia folded her hands loosely in her lap, watching me for a moment.
“The servants are restless today. Everyone knows there’s a bout. They’re all betting on it—hoping, for once, that our champion will fall. No one ever bets against him.”
I glanced up at that. “Do you?”
“I have no coin to waste. But Jorius always does.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “He walked straight into a pillar earlier. Too busy asking if you were alright after your first day. The girls in the servant wing all but fight over him, but he seems rather taken with you.”
“Really?” I picked at the bread in my hands, though a smile lingered. “I haven’t thought of him that way. I must admit… he’s very handsome.”
I bit my lip as my thoughts flickered to Thanor before I shoved them away again.
Locked them down. Jorius would be the sensible choice.
The kind of man who wouldn’t ruin me simply by looking at me.
I took another bite. The silence that followed gave my curiosity room to grow.
Elion had once told me the bonding ritual changed more than the body.
Warriors took on traits of their sabers over time.
“What do you know of Thanor?” I asked, reaching for my cup. “Have you ever heard what he was like before he bonded to Kharos?”
Her brows lifted as she studied me with interest. “I haven’t. Would you like me to ask around? Are you interested in him?”
I cleared my throat, taking a sip of water. “No, nothing like that. I’ve been assigned to shadow Cassius. That means knowing both him and Kharos.”
“Ah. Of course. I’ll keep my ears open.”
My hands fumbled with the fruit.
“Have you ever seen a match in the Maw?” I asked.
“No. My father has—but he wouldn’t speak of it.” She sighed. “Not everyone is allowed in the regular seats. You need a silver piercing or higher.”
“Are iron-pierced not allowed to watch?”
“There are places for us,” she admitted, though her mouth tightened. “But they’re terrible. Too close to the sands. I’ve heard people have died. They got caught between the sabers or worse—trampled by the spectators when a warrior was thrown from the ring.”
The image formed in my mind, bones breaking beneath a crush of bodies. I shuddered and turned back to my plate. “I feel like I’m painfully ignorant.”
Livia rose, setting the tray aside. “Just ask Jorius. He’ll explain,” she said, moving toward my clothes. “You should dress lightly today. The sun is high, and the Maw holds heat like a furnace. There’s no shade.”
I nodded, letting her guide me through the motions as she helped me into a flowing white tunic. The fabric was light against my skin, but it did little to ease the tension coiling beneath it. She pinned my hair up with practiced ease, her fingers quick and gentle as she worked.
“There,” she said when she was done. “You’re ready.”
She drew me toward the bronze mirror, and I met my reflection—composed, prepared, almost convincing. Her eyes caught mine in the glass, steady and reassuring. I smiled with gratitude.
Together, we made our way to the Atrium. The shift upon our arrival was immediate. Conversations faltered, then died entirely as we entered. Lucina’s gaze found me like a blade between my ribs. Mira and Iris regarded me openly as well, their disdain unhidden.
I exhaled softly, more tired than surprised. What had I done to earn their hatred? Exist?
Pushing the thought aside, I focused instead on Jorius, who was already waving us over. A tall young woman followed closely behind him, her servant’s tunic plain but neat, her arms full as she struggled to keep pace.
“Well,” Jorius said as we met him halfway, his grin as wide and unapologetic as ever, “I must admit I’m impressed. I half expected you to be dead by morning, after spending yesterday with Vayren and Kharos.”
“Disappointing, I know. I do try to exceed expectations.”
“Everyone is talking about you. How the mighty Kharos accepted you immediately.” His blond brows lifted. “You’ll have to tell us your secret.”
I bumped his shoulder as I passed him, letting my smirk linger just long enough. “Skill.”
“Mm,” he drawled behind me, amused. “I’ll be needing a demonstration.”
We were gathered soon after, the moment fading as the houseguards ushered us through the Grand Hall and out into the city. The gates opened with a groan, and we moved forward in ordered formation, stepping into the heat and brightness of the streets beyond.
The golden-pierced watched us as we passed. Their attention followed us—curious, admiring—while their children stared openly, eyes wide with something too close to awe. To them, this must seem like an honor. Prestige. Something to aspire to.
Let them stand in my place for a single hour. See how quickly that awe rotted.
The image of Nexra slumped against the wall surfaced. Already forgotten. No funeral. No mourning. Just… gone.
The streets narrowed and the crowds thickened.
Jorius walked beside me, his presence comforting, while ahead of us Cassius and Lucina moved in quiet focus.
Behind us, I could hear the others—Talia, Tavin—keeping pace with the rest. We all wore the same light, flowing white tunics, yet I couldn’t help wondering whether they felt as overheated as I did.
Marcus led at the front, untouched by the press of bodies.
His emerald tunic shimmered with intricate gold embroidery, far more elaborate than anything I’d ever seen him wear.
Servants moved alongside him, holding cloths aloft to shield him from the worst of the sun.
Even so, the heat pressed down relentlessly.
The closer we drew, the more the crowd changed. People weren’t merely moving anymore. They were being pulled. All of it leading in one direction. Toward the Maw.
The structure rose from the ground like something unearthed rather than built—dark and immense.
The Imperator’s banners hung high above, embroidered with the crowned serpent of his signet.
Even the slightest movement in the fabric made the coiled snakes appear to writhe.
It was the only sign the place wasn’t entirely dead.
It felt carved. Hollowed out of something that had once lived.
Fitting, really. Considering this was the place people came to be entertained. To cheer. To drink. To watch others die.
A sharp impact jolted me forward.
“Careful,” someone snapped behind me.
Jorius’s hand found my lower back as he smiled down at me. Warmth crept up my neck before I could stop it. I looked away, focusing instead on the movement of the crowd. I was starting to see things because of Livia. Jorius was just being friendly.
We came to a halt near one of the side entrances, separated from the main flow of people by a line of legionnaires. The air here felt different—quieter, though no less tense—as though the structure itself held its breath. I glanced around, frowning as I counted the familiar faces.
“Where did Cassius go?” I asked, leaning closer to Jorius.
“He’s likely already below with Vayren at the waiting cells. He’ll be giving Kharos his elixirs.”
The mention of them, of him, stirred something in me, a warmth that pulled at me, dragging an image with it I had no intention of entertaining.
Before I could dwell on it, we were moving again.
The descent below the Maw swallowed the light.
Torches flickered to life around us as Livia and the other servants darted ahead, guiding us into the depths.
The stone steps spiraled downward, the air growing colder with every step. Dust clung to it, thick and dry, and above us the roar of the crowd pressed in from every direction, amplified by the stone until it became something physical, like a pressure building in my lungs.
Fine grains of sand and droplets of water fell intermittently from above, catching in my hair and on my skin. The steady patter only made the space feel more enclosed. Almost suffocating. By the time we reached the base of the stairs, my breathing had grown shallow without my permission.
Marcus was waiting for us at the base.
“Mind yourselves today,” he said as he took us in. “Your conduct reflects not only upon you, but upon the Ludaryn as a whole.” His eyes rested on Jorius for a fraction longer than necessary.
“We are judged here. By the crowd. By the Imperator himself.” A palpable tension settled over us. “The Bondwards of Aurexium will also be present. Led by a man who fancies himself a Lanista, though his mannerisms are more like a merchant at a market than a keeper of discipline.”
Jorius leaned closer to me. “Gold tends to speak loudly when men have little else to offer. It does an excellent job of hiding their… smaller virtues.”
I huffed a breath, the corner of my mouth lifting. “You must be very wealthy, then.”
A smirk touched his mouth. “On the contrary. I’ve never needed gold to be noticed.”
I didn’t meet his eyes as Marcus called us forward again.
“Come, everyone. We are late enough already.”