30. CHAPTER THIRTY
Katell blinked, trying to make sense of Aurelius’ words. “What do you mean?”
His lips curled. “It’s been planned for days. Ever since you passed the First Trial, your patrons began scheming for an eventual fight between the two best female fighters the Pit has ever seen.”
Panic shot through her, but she quickly shoved it down. “I refuse. I’m not fighting Sinope. I don’t care what you do to me.”
“My dear girl.” Aurelius twisted a strand of her dark hair between his fingers, making her skin crawl. “With your Gifts, nothing would ever be done to you. You’re too valuable to Governor Fabius and me. But if you choose not to fight, the Amazon and you will have to bring us money some other way. And there’s no shortage of men willing to pay large sums of gold to have such beauties in their beds.”
With a hiss, she lunged at him, wanting nothing more than to wrap her hands around his thick neck and squeeze the life out of the vile man. The Non-Humans restrained her, their fingers digging into her skin, but she didn’t stop. Not even when Aurelius recoiled and snatched his hand away.
She retaliated by spitting in his face.
Castur struck her for the offence. The force of his hand knocked her head to the side, and a sharp pain seared across her cheek.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Nik growled from behind bars down the corridor.
With one look from Castur, the guards marched to his cell and swarmed in. The iron bars rattled, and Katell seethed as the smack of fists and Nik’s grunts filled her ears.
“Stop!” She thrashed in the Non-Humans’ tight grip, to no avail.
“Enough.” Aurelius wiped his cheek with his sleeve, and the scuffle died down. “Consider yourself warned Outsider. You will fight the Amazon tomorrow and you will give the crowd a fight so sublime, so glorious, that it will reach the Emperor’s ears all the way in Kisra. If you refuse, I will allow every nobleman in Bruna to call on you and the Amazon for a price, and I will use every method I know, every weapon I have, to give the Achaean the most painful death the Pit has ever seen, right before your eyes.”
With a final glare, he stormed off, leaving no doubt that he’d carry out his threats if she disobeyed.
Dragged back to her cell, Katell caught sight of Nik, lying on the stone floor, his face covered in blood. The Samnites shoved her against the wall and chained her up like an animal.
“Did you really believe you could escape the Pit, Outsider?” Castur taunted from the doorway. “No one ever has, and no one ever will.”
The guards left, laughing at her expense.
Fury flared in Katell’s gut. She wanted to scream and tear them all apart with her bare hands. But her rage was useless against the chains that bound her hands to the wall.
Instead, she curled in on herself, Aurelius’ words echoing in her head. Sinope, our strongest and most beloved Amazon warrior, against the Outsider.
Fight Sinope.
Her chest ached, and she swallowed back the lump that formed in her throat.
The window between her cell and Nik’s was all darkness. The corridor beyond had once again fallen into its typical silence, broken only by the occasional sob or moan.
With the gold manacles on, her magic couldn’t heal any of her fresh cuts and bruises. Lying against the freezing stone wall, she waited. Moonlight filtered through the slit in the wall like a veil, its silver threads unable to penetrate the shadows within Nik’s cell.
Finally, his chains clanked against the iron bars.
“They’re right. It was a foolish plan.” A low chuckle rasped from his throat. “What did we expect? That Sinope, an Amazon, could break free from here without being recognised at once?”
The truth of his words burned away any lingering hope she clung to.
“No one has ever broken out of the Pit. No one has ever managed to free a loved one, either. No one leaves. Not even when you die. The lions get you then.”
He pressed his face against the bars, his arm slipping through them past his elbow. His blond hair glowed like a crown in the moonlight.
“Kat.” The usual mirth in his voice had faded, leaving it hoarse and strained. “Ignore Aurelius’ threats and do what you need to do, you hear me? I never intended to last this long in this shit hole, anyway. I don’t know why the gods keep toying with me instead of putting an end to it all. I’ve done things… terrible things in the past… and now I’m paying for them. So, don’t worry about me.”
Her heart stuttered and squeezed. No one deserved to die for the sake of amusing others, no matter their past. And especially not Nik.
She leaned into the silver light, not caring if he saw the wet trails on her cheeks. Straining against her chains, she stretched out her hand to meet his and grazed his fingertips.
The back of her throat burned. “Nik—”
“You keep on fighting, sweetheart, you understand?” he whispered in the cold night. “You fight, and no matter what, you keep your promise to Sinope.”
They locked eyes, and for a beat, she glimpsed the real Nikander. A warrior burdened by self-loathing and yet still fiercely protective.
“Don’t let them take her Gift.”
Castur and two guards came for Katell shortly after dawn and dragged her away in chains.
She craned her neck to look at Nik one last time. He stood solemnly against the bars and gave her a short nod before he was out of sight.
She was brought to the kitchens first for a large meal of sloppy porridge and tough bread.
“Your last one,” Castur called it.
The female Non-Humans braided her hair in an elaborate, three-part style. Then, they dressed her in a soft blue linen tunic and encased her in finely crafted steel armour. The breastplate, shaped to suit a woman, was of Achaean style, with two rearing horses embossed at its centre.
“Special,” a Non-Human explained, fitting her with a headdress—a white ribbon adorned with thin golden ornaments.
Once again, Aurelius was putting on a spectacle for his audience. They were dressing her up to be a symbol, a hero from the old myths; although which figure her coif and armour represented, she couldn’t tell. An Achaean warrior or queen, perhaps? Alena would have known at once.
The thought brought a sharp pang to her heart. She’d been so caught up with her troubles that her little sister had almost slipped her mind.
In Katell’s dreams, Alena was safe and free. But the world didn’t work in kindness and it was even crueller to those with gentle hearts like her sister.
Once she reached the armoury, she froze, blinking at the array of weapons laid out before her. How could she possibly choose which ones were better suited to kill her friend?
When she took too long, Castur thrust a steel sword and an Achaean round shield in her hands, then hooked a sheathed dagger at her belt.
Down the dimly lit corridor, the crowd’s tumultuous cheers and stomping rattled the ceiling. Bright sunshine streaked through gaps in the wooden gate, and she peered through, witnessing the final moments of a chariot race. The guards watched the spectacle, delighted.
She drew back and the flicker of a candle caught her eye. Hidden in the darkness was a doorway leading into a vestibule that she’d never noticed before. She stepped closer, spotting a winged statuette placed within an alcove carved in the stone.
“You wish to pray?” one of the red-clothed guards asked.
“She’s the Outsider,” Castur snapped, disdain written all over his pockmarked face. “These are not her gods.”
The guard shrugged. “What does it matter? She’s about to face her death.”
She swallowed hard, her weapons feeling heavier in her hands. Did the guards believe she couldn’t beat Sinope?
Could she? Did she even want to?
She found herself unable to untangle the maze of overwhelming thoughts plaguing her mind.
“Go pray to Vanth.” The guard jerked his chin towards the chamber. “Only she can guide you now.”
Castur hit his shoulder. “Don’t say her name out loud, you idiot!”
“The Outsider will need it if she wants to make a pact.”
“That’s no excuse,” Castur muttered, his eyes darting about the dark corridor as if speaking the goddess’ name might invoke some terrible creature.
His shifty demeanour didn’t surprise Katell. According to what she’d gleaned over the days, the Rasennan gods did not hide their true names because they were the most worshipped deities throughout the Empire. Despite this, Vanth remained a goddess whose name was spoken only in hushed tones. Laran, on the other hand, held such power that he could not be bound in a pact by a simple animal sacrifice.
Sinope had once remarked that to be Gifted by Laran, one had to willingly sacrifice everything they held dear. It explained why Nik and she hated the Samnites so much.
Castur pushed Katell forward. “Go pray, then. But be quick about it.”
She set her weapons aside and entered the chamber. Candles burned within carved ledges on the wall. White wax pooled like thick goat’s milk from the alcove. Above it, Rhaetic words were scratched in the stone. The winged figure stood in the middle, surrounded by candles. A headless grey asp lay coiled around its feet.
Vanth.
A female demon who accompanied the dead to the Underworld where the god of death awaited them. Many slaves made a pact with her before a fight, but Katell was unsure how it was done.
She took a knee in front of the small altar, her armour digging into her hip, and looked the statue in the eye.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Her voice echoed within the confines of the stone chamber. “I’ve never prayed to a deity before. It’s forbidden for us Freefolk, but since I’m Gifted, I suppose I’m no longer one of them. I don’t know where I belong. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. All I know is that I don’t want to fight Sinope and I curse this place for all the pointless deaths it has brought. Whoever finds entertainment here has never fought in their life.”
Breathing hard, she pushed her anger away. She hadn’t come to shout about the unfairness of life. She’d come to ask the goddess for a favour.
“I may die today.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “And if I do, there’ll be no one to take care of Alena, my sister. Death doesn’t scare me, but knowing my sister is out there and alone…”
She swallowed the knot in her throat.
“Alena needs help. She can’t make it in this world. Not on her own. I realise that you’re a goddess of death, but there’s no one else I can turn to. So let us make a pact. If I die today, I ask that you watch over Alena and protect her. And if my sister is already dead, then let me be reunited with her soon.”
Warm light from the candles cast distorted shadows over the wings and head. For a moment, the statuette seemed alive, a wicked smile on its lips.
Katell pulled the dagger from her belt and ran the blade across her palm. “All I have to offer is my life.” She held out her hand, letting drops of blood fall onto the asp. “Watch over Alena in my stead, Vanth. May she find peace and happiness in this world. Help her, and I am yours. Use me as you see fit in the Underworld.”
The words rang around the small space, holding more gravity and finality as they echoed back to her.
Was it enough to compel the goddess? Pacts required a sacrifice and the deity’s true name, but beyond that, Katell knew little else.
Satisfied with her request, she wiped the blade on her tunic and left.
She returned to the gate, belting the sword and clutching the shield’s rim, which was placed at her feet. Castur retrieved a small key from his pocket and unlocked the gold manacles suppressing her Gift. As soon as they came off, a rush of magic coursed through her body, causing the wooden shield, plated with bronze, to crack within her grip.
The two guards backed away and the arena’s gate groaned. Somewhere above, Non-Human slaves pushed a wooden wheel, tugging the ropes upwards through a pulley system.
Katell scanned her dented shield. Her control over her strength had grown worse since the use of dampeners. Her hands shook, and she struggled to hold her shield without crushing it.
The announcer cried out Sinope’s name, and the Amazon appeared at the opposite gate.
Katell’s heart twisted.
How could she fight her friend if she couldn’t control her own strength? What if she crushed the Amazon’s chest, as she’d done to the Samnites?
The crowd went wild at the sight of the Amazon. She was their favourite warrior and the Pit’s best. She’d survived the arena for almost a full year and had earned Bruna’s love and respect.
Katell rushed ahead before her announcement. The beat of drums resonated with each step she took—or perhaps it was the sound of her own heartbeat.
She crossed the arena, sword and shield in hand, and ignored the roaring shouts, focusing only on the lone blonde figure ahead.
“Sinope—”
She stopped short at the sight of her friend’s black and blue face. Her chest hollowed, and bile rose in her throat.
Sinope’s left eye was bruised and almost swollen shut. The other one locked on Katell’s breastplate. “I see they chose to dress you up as Andrasta, the Rebel Queen. The rearing horses, that was her symbol.”
Katell couldn’t make sense of her words, her focus solely on the bruises marring the Amazon’s bare arms, and the bloodied, chafed skin around her wrists.
“As for me, Aurelius chose the Amazon Queen, Penthesilea,” Sinope went on, pointing to her immaculate white tunic. It was tied with a golden belt, similar in style to Katell’s headdress. She held a spear instead of a shield and an Achaean short sword hung from her hip.
“By the Moon…” Katell’s breath caught, and she fought to steady her voice. “Sinope, what did they do to you?”
The Amazon gave her a broken smile. “I fought back.”
Her words echoed those Katell’s friend, Leywani, had once said the morning after her wedding night, and the memory sparked her temper. Molten fire surged through her veins and fury like she had never known before ignited the magic in her blood.
Her gaze lifted, searching for the patrons among the crowd. They weren’t hard to find. The nobles all sat together on a raised deck close to the Pit in the shade. A multitude of slaves attended them.
“I’m going to kill Saturius.” Katell raised her sword, voice firm and resolute. “I’m going to gut them all like the spineless cowards they are. They will pay, Sinope; I promise you that.”
The profound heartbreak that settled upon the Amazon’s once warm features was a haunting image Katell knew would forever be etched in her memory.
“They deserve death and more,” Sinope said. “But I fear the repercussions you might face. And I fear where your anger might lead you. Anger didn’t save my mother or my sisters. I understand it fuels your magic and that, in turn, calls for blood, but if you keep wielding it so, it will consume you, Katell. Like it has consumed so many others of my kind.”
“Then let it consume me!” Katell spat. “Let it rob me of my mind like those tragic Achaean heroes. I would lose myself to kill them all. I would do it for you.”
“No…” Sinope’s voice faltered, and she staggered closer. “You must survive. With your magic, you could accomplish so much more than this. You must kill me and keep on living—for your sister. For Nikander. For me.”
Katell stilled. “What are you saying? Let us fight together. Aurelius, Castur, the guards—everyone. Together, we can take them all.”
“Together, we could have done anything,” Sinope agreed in a whisper. A wince followed, and her face contorted with pain, unveiling the cracks beneath its surface. “But now, it is too late.”