I see the districts set out beneath me, as distinct as if they were carefully labeled on a map for my attention. The entertainment district bustles with dancers and jugglers out on the streets, criers trying to lure passersby into theaters, taverns, and more. The merchant district has a great market at its heart, stalls forming a tangled maze in which it's easy to get lost. The docks swarm with ships, fishing vessels, larger merchant ships, triremes that defend Aetheria's waters against attack.
And of course, at the very heart of the city, there’s the colosseum. It’s a vast, circular building approached by promenades lined with statues of famous gladiators. Flags and pennants hang from it on the holy days when contests take place, although thankfully, it’s quiet now.
The bird I control flies beyond the walls, out over the slums that occupy at least as much space as the interior of the city. There are signs of rebuilding within them, but I also spot the colors of the different gangs that make their homes there. I force myself to ignore them, sending the bird flying out towards a great dark shape clinging to the side of the hills beyond the city.
Ironhold, the fortress where I was once a prisoner, still has spike-topped walls of dark granite, which contrasts with the marble of the city. Guards still patrol it, although now it's as much a training place for them as for gladiators. As my bird gets closer, I start to reach out for other animals within the walls, sensing them now that some part of me is close enough. I look through the eyes of a scurrying mouse, a spider hanging in its web.
It takes me a couple of minutes to find Selene Ravenscroft, walking through the fortress towards one of the training areas. She’s pale skinned, with jet black hair and eyes that shine violet with power. She wears the brief training outfit of a gladiatornow, rather than the robes of an arch-magistrate, and her body has grown athletic with her training. She has a circular brand to match my own on her left shoulder, although there’s only a single mark across it, rather than five. A magical dampener is fastened around her left wrist to contain some of her vast magical powers as an archon, one of the strongest magical practitioners to ever live.
I follow her as she heads through the fortress, towards one of the training rooms, moving without the supervision of the guards. Selene takes up a practice sword, striking a practice post with smooth, elegant movements as I watch through the eyes of a mouse in the corner.
Selene works for a while, then stops, turning with almost preternatural grace towards me. She looks straight towards the mouse, smiling the way a cat might have on seeing it.
“Have you seen enough, yet?” Selene asks. “Do you think I don’t know when you’re spying on me, Lyra Thornwind?”
She lifts her left hand, and a dart of violet power lashes out towards the mouse. I frantically pull back from it, but even so, I feel the moment when it dies in a burst of agony. I come back to myself with a blinding headache, cursing to myself.
I rise and head to the offices of the First Senator, determined to persuade him this time of the danger Selene represents. Rowan is waiting inside, sitting behind a desk piled high with scrolls and tablets. Rowan isn't wearing his toga now, but rather, a simple tunic and a belt edged with silver. He's square featured and auburn-haired, with muscles like boulders and a brand that matches my own. He has a scar on one cheek, given to him back in the days when he was still a slave to a noblewoman of the empire. His magic gives him control over the earth, and he sometimes seems to be carved from the stone he can manipulate so easily.
“Lyra, is everything all right?” Rowan asks.
“I’ve been watching Selene again. You know she wanders where she wants in Ironhold?” I say.
Rowan shakes his head. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Even with the dampener, an archon is hard to contain.”
“She’s dangerous, Rowan,” I say. “She’s planning to build her power and then reinstate the empire.”
Rowan sighs. “She needs to survive four more sets of games before she’s even free. After that… the Republic is stronger than you think.”
“There are people pushing at it from every side,” I point out.
“What do you want me to do?” Rowan asks. “The senate voted against her execution. All we can do is keep her in the games and hope she loses a bout. Her next set of games is coming up in a few days anyway.”
Selene will be shown no mercy if she loses. Every bout is life or death for her. I’m stuck in the position of hoping that the games, which I’ve been working so hard to keep safe for the gladiators, prove deadly for this woman who would otherwise turn Aetheria back into the empire it once was.
I don’t know what else we can do, though. Selene is deadly, intelligent, and knows Ironhold inside out. It makes her a formidable foe. Maybe one strong enough to kill everyone we send against her.
CHAPTER TWO
“Selene! Selene!”
I sit in the senate box of the colosseum, trying to ignore the way the growing crowd is chanting the former arch magistrate’s name. I try to tell myself that it’s just the normal way a crowd would react to any gladiator, but it isn’t, and I know it.
She isn’t even in the colosseum yet, and people are already calling for Selene to fight.
“Selene! Selene!”
The crowd is growing within the colosseum. My guess is that it will be another record attendance as the day progresses, the stadium packed with as many people as it can hold and more. I could lie to myself and say it has something to do with the popularity of the reformed games, where people can enjoy the thrill of violence without the prospect of gladiators dying, but I know it’s about something else entirely.
They care about Selene because she’s the first gladiator to fight with her life on the line in a long time. The first one who, should she lose, will be finished by her opponents. Someone who’s surviving despite the best efforts of some on the senate to make sure she dies here. The crowd love her for that, so that when they stamp their feet and chant her name, it’s like an earthquake running through the stands.
It's far too reminiscent of the way things were when I fought.
I send my mind out into a bird, using its eyes to watch the procession into the city from Ironhold. I wasn't invited to be a part of it this time, and I didn't insist. I didn't want to have to watch Selene soaking in every scrap of attention. I also didn't want to have to walk down beside Marcus, who's smiling and waving even now, reveling in his role as one of the organizers of the games. He's tall, blond-haired and muscular, wearing thetoga of a senator, but with a ship-shaped pendant around his neck to remind the world that he comes from a merchant family. A few dark clouds are closing in on the procession, but he waves his hand to dissipate them, his magic giving him control of the weather.
Behind him there are jugglers and entertainers, there to catch the attention of the crowd. There are guards too, although these days, they spend their time looking outwards to make sure Alaric’s followers aren’t about to attack, rather than worrying about containing slave gladiators who might run. They don’t even guard Selene closely, even though she’s the one member of the procession who might have a reason to run.
She’s too busy talking to her adoring fans on the way. Selene walks at the head of the gladiators due to fight in this round of games, stopping to speak with people as she goes. Several of the others look on jealously, as if wishing that they got even half the adulation she receives. I can barely stand to watch it, and I can see the tightness in Marcus’ face too, his blue eyes narrowing every time he looks Selene’s way. He’s argued for her execution, rather than her continued presence in the games more than anyone. I can’t help but feel that’s at least partly down to jealousy too. Marcus wants to make himself the most important figure within the Republic, maybe even become First Senator one day, and Selene is an obvious rival for the public’s affections.
