Willing my voice to remain disinterested, I ask, “And if I do not agree to this, what will happen to the nurse?”
“She will be given the opportunity to fight in the arena, just like every other criminal.”
“So you will kill her,” I say.
“Oh no, I will not kill her. But she will die, yes.”
I lean back and scratch the scruff on my chin as if contemplating my choices. “Three fights?” I ask. “While wounded? All today?”
“Those are the terms.”
I smile humorlessly. “Rather steep terms.”
He tilts his head in a subtle shrug, showing his indifferenceto my protest. I do not want to sign this contract, not now that I know there is a third party involved, but I have no other choice. Amara is in the care of Gaius’s guards. If I kill him, I cannot ensure her safety. If I do not sign, she will be executed. There is only one option.
I plunge a fang into my thumb and leave a bloody print on the bottom of the scroll. “It would be wrong of me not to offer her justice,” I say, handing the contract back to Gaius with a pained grunt. “She saved my life. If nothing else, she deserves a trial.”
He takes the scroll and uses an ink pad, not blood, to stamp his print next to mine. It is still legally binding, but it feels like a slight. A slight I am forced to ignore.
I spend the next few minutes ensuring Gaius creates electronic copies of the relevant documents and sends them to my ship. A paper trail will be necessary when he inevitably claims Amara abandoned her contract.
By the time we are done, Gaius looks annoyed as he waves his hand to dismiss me. “The guards will escort you to the preparation chamber.”
I rise slowly from the chair, still playing the part of an injured gladiator. But instead of leaving, I turn towards the wall of artifacts and drag my finger over a dusty shelf. “Tell me, Magistrate, when was the last time you spoke to my sister?” I glance over my shoulder just in time to watch Gaius’s face contort with alarm.
Truthfully, I should have realized it sooner. Gaius is not known to be clever, but my sister certainly is, and her ambition knows no bounds. The betrayal is painful, but not in the way I would have thought. It feels like a rebuke against my own judgment. A confirmation that Amara is more right than I care to admit. That I have been blinded for too long, refusing to see the uncomfortable truths in front of me.
Gaius stutters out a few incoherent words before turning in his chair to file away the stamped contract behind him.
Hands in my pockets, I duck through the doorway and offer Gaius one last nerve-wracking thought. “Oh, if you do speak with Aelrith, let her know her eldest brother says hello.”
31
GILDED?
AMARA
THE DOOR BURSTS open, and I suck in a breath as a guard marches towards me. I think it’s the same guard from earlier. Breather mask covering his face, humanoid shape, long sleeves, and gloves. Probably the same guy. Without a word, he grabs my upper arm and tugs me into motion.
Doors and empty hallways flash past my periphery as I’m dragged through the Coliseum at a pace I can hardly match. I try to remember the turns we’re taking, but the pain in my feet is too distracting.
So much for playing amateur cartographer. Sorry, Vexar.If we do have to bail before this is all over, I’m just gonna have to hope my way out of here.
A raised section of the floor catches the ball of my foot, and I stumble. Pain radiates across my sole and up my calf. The guard doesn’t slow down. Every step turns into a test of mind over body. My feet throb. Each new bolt of pain makes me feel a little more helpless and a little more angry. Eventually, that feeling grows past my ability to contain it.
I don’t like feeling helpless. I don’tdohelpless.
Letting my rage take over, I sit back in my hips, using my bodyweight to pull against the guard’s grasp, forcing him to stop. My feet dig into the stone as his fingers dig into my arm. Blinding pain shoots through my body, but I don’t give a shit. Fuck him.
“Move,” he orders with a tug that almost knocks me over.
“Find me some shoes!”
He grunts and keeps pulling. My shoulder feels like it’s going to pop out of its socket. I bite back another expletive as my feet slide and a knife-like pain burns through my left heel. In that moment, my resistance slips, and with one hard pull, the guard gets me moving again.
“Move,” he says again.
My heart pounds as I prepare to unleash a volley of insults, but then we stop. I flinch, expecting the guard to strike me, but he just releases my arm. With caution, I open my eyes. The guard isn’t even looking at me. And there’s a door. I blink a few times. This must be our destination.
