CHAPTER ONE
The Colosseum was much simpler when I only had to fight in it rather than watch.
I sit in the former emperor's box in the Colosseum, and my heart sinks as the violence unfolds on the sand below.I try to look like a picture of perfectly contained elegance.After all, I'm not Lyra Thornwind, the gladiator, anymore.I'm Senator Lyra of Aetheria, one of those sitting on the ruling council of the city and the lands its republic claims.I've been told again and again that I must look the part if I want to have real influence, so I'm determined to do so.
It means I'm wearing the formal white toga of an Aetherian senator, the gold of my hair tied up in a web of plaits, my deep blue eyes ringed with golden eyeshadow that one of the servants at the palace brought.I think it's all too much, but Marcus insists that we're as much a part of the spectacle of the games as the fighters.That we're here to be seen as well as to watch.
Marcus isn't in the box for now, which means I'm the only one there to be seen.He's elsewhere in the arena, talking to important nobles sponsors of the games.I'm meant to meet up with him and them as soon as this fight is done.As much as I want to see Marcus, I'm not sure I want to spend yet more time talking to nobles and merchants who all want something from the Senate.
Down below, Cesca, one of the better-known gladiators of the games, is taking on another young woman, her steel blade clashing against her opponent's with a noise that rings around the arena.She and her opponent are both shorter than I am and dark-haired, dressed in armor that seems designed to show off as much of their flesh as possible rather than to provide adequate protection.
That part angers me, even now.It's not just the way the Colosseum has reverted to mixing desire and bloodlust to get the attention of the fans, although that's bad enough.What worries me is that this armor seems far less protective than the designs Marcus and I approved for the first exhibition matches of the renewed games six months ago.
Has it really been six months?Half a year since the games reopened?Since a young man named Kai walked out onto the sands and got himself killed by a fighter named Glacius?I wince as the memories assault me with the sight of Kai standing over Glacius, a spear that should have been blunted in his hands.Only Kai worked out that if he let his magic flow over the edge of the blade, he could make it sharp again, turn it into a deadly weapon.A fight that was supposed to be a simple display of skills became a death match.
I should have seen that possibility coming, should have prepared for it.After all, Aetheria is as much a place of magic as of martial skill.In the days of the empire, it called those its twin virtues, the pillars on which it stood, crushing the world around it.
I see the moment when Glacius lunges up, averting his own death, his powers forming a spike made from ice, an icicle sharp enough to pierce flesh.He thrusts it up into Kai’s torso, piercing his heart.
I can still see, in excruciating detail, the moment when Kai died, a death that should never have happened in the reformed games.
The roaring of the crowd draws my attention back to the fight below.Cesca is bleeding from a wound on her thigh, a wound that should never have been there if I had my way.I wouldn't have allowed any more games to go ahead, or at least, I would have insisted on even greater protections than those in place for the first event.
But that isn’t what the crowd, or far too many of the senators, want.Over the last six months, the protections I helped to put in place have been worn away, little by little, leaving the gladiators in more danger with every event.
“A good fight so far.”
I look across the box to see Senator Domitian watching me from the doorway.He's dark-haired, with the roughened features of a former trainer in the Colosseum.Like me, he's dressed in the toga of a senator, and it makes us look as though we're both the same, two parts of one whole.
We’re anything but that.This is the man who has pushed more than anyone else for the return of the most violent versions of the games.He stands for everything I’m trying to prevent, every aspect of the old Aetheria I hate.
“There’s nothing good about this,” I say, as Cesca returns the favor to her opponent, delivering a wound across her exposed midriff that brings another spray of blood to dot the ground of the arena.
The crowd bays for more blood, clearly starting to enjoy the contest.It's always a side of the people that's worried me.They always seem to react to the violence, to pay for it, and demand more.
“Really?”Domitian says.“You were a gladiator, Lyra.Surely you can see the skill involved in this, the bravery it takes to be out there?Surely you can appreciate the games, even if your… moral qualms make you squeamish about them?”
I bite back an angry response.The truth is Icansee the skills of the combatants.I know what it takes to be able to swing a sword as accurately as Cesca, to dodge the blows as well as her opponent.I know what it takes to risk injury and death, even if there haven’t been any deaths since the tragic day when Kai lost his life.
There have been plenty of injuries, though.
As if to illustrate that point, Cesca ducks under the swing of her opponent’s weapon, putting a hand against the bare flesh of her side.Electricity dances between them in a shocking burst of magic that makes lightning spark over her opponent’s skin.
Her opponent falls to her knees, stunned by the sudden shock.It gives Cesca the opportunity she needs, swinging her sword around in a blow that opens a large wound across her foe’s chest.Even as blood sprays again, the other gladiator cries out, dropping her sword and falling to the ground of the arena.
The blow sickens me, but the crowd only seems more excited by it.
“Cesca!Cesca!”
They scream her name now, some of them throwing flowers down towards the sands in a rain of petals.I can see some of them throwing their goblets of wine into the air so that the red of it mirrors the spray of blood below.
Cesca stands over her opponent, sword touching her throat lightly, the two of them frozen in a tableaux of poised deadliness.She looks to the box I'm in, the way she might have when the emperor was still there to decide whether gladiators lived or died.Only now, that shouldn't even be a question.There isn't meant to be any death in the Colosseum anymore.
"Kill, kill, kill!"I don't know where the chant starts in the arena, but it builds quickly into something that seems to fill the space, demanding yet more violence to sate the blood lust of the crowd.Cesca is still looking up towards the box as if seriously expecting the senators of Aetheria to decide that her foe is to die.
Worse, I think I see Domitian shifting in his seat, as if he might move forward to allow it at any moment.To tell Cesca to finish her foe.He keeps glancing towards me as if knowing that I won't react well and my presence is the only thing holding him back.
I rush forward before he can, standing and letting some of the magic of the box amplify my voice as I speak to the Colosseum beyond.
