“This contest is at an end.The gladiator Cesca is the victor.”
Cesca still stands there with her blade poised.
“That’senough, Cesca.”
Cesca smiles up at me, bows her head, but then sends a fresh arc of lightning dancing through her opponent, making her twitch and cry out on the ground.Cesca bows to the spectators as they scream her name once more, then stalks from the Colosseum's sands even as the healers rush on to carry her opponent from where she's fallen.
I turn, ready to rush from the box.Domitian smiles cruelly.
“Not staying, Lyra?Glacius is still due to fight.”
Glacius, the gladiator who killed Kai.Just the thought of watching him fight again is enough to drive me from the former emperor’s box, hurrying down through the arena to the preparation areas and the spot where the healers work, their patients sitting or lying on only too familiar slabs.Both Cesca and her opponent are there.Cesca’s sitting up while a young healer runs his hands over her wounds, pouring magical power into her to close them.Another of the improvements of the new games is that we employ magical healers wherever we can, wanting to repair any injuries caused in the fights.
Cesca’s opponent is being worked on by a trio of them, one working with magic while the others stitch and bandage her wounds in more conventional ways.She’s groaning, but at least it looks as though she isn’t going to die.
I go up to Cesca, barely holding back my anger.
“What was that?”I demand.
“Senator Lyra,” she says with a smile.“Here to congratulate me on my victory?Or maybe you’ve decided you want to become my patron?I’m sorry, I don’t think you have the money for that.”
“There aren’t any patrons anymore,” I snap.“And these bouts aren’t to the death.So what were you doing, standing over her, looking around for permission to kill her?”
“Just a little piece of theater,” Cesca says.“I’m sure Illia doesn’t mind.She’ll be fine.”
“That isn’t thepoint," I reply, and as anger starts to build in me, I begin to see Cesca from other angles.My powers as a beast whisperer, someone whose magic gives me control over animals, mean that I see her through the eyes of a rat in one corner and a spider hanging from the ceiling.
Cesca raises her hands.“I’m just trying to fit in with the way things are here.Don’t blame me for that, Lyra.Come on, aren’t we friends?”
“Friends” is pushing the truth.I tried to help and protect her, back when we were both slave gladiators in Ironhold, but she always latched onto whoever was most powerful, including several of my enemies.In one of my last bouts, she even tried to betray me.
"What are you even doing back in the Colosseum?"I ask her."Surely you could have found something better after the revolution?"
“It turns out that people weren’t interested in just giving me a position in the new order,” Cesca says.“But this is a chance to get attention again.A chance to matter.”
“Until you get hurt.”
She laughs.“Same old Lyra.Still trying to look after everyone else.Now, excuse me, I need to head up to the receiving rooms.Because despite what you say, therearepatrons.It’s just that they can’t take what they want anymore.Not without offering me all the most expensive gifts.”
She slips off the slab and heads for the door.I stand there, still feeling angry.Eventually, though, I go after her, or at least head to the receiving rooms.Marcus is waiting for me.
CHAPTER TWO
I shudder as I head into the receiving rooms, the way I so often do when I set foot here.They’re a space with too many bad memories for me to ever be truly comfortable.
The receiving rooms are as much a part of the fabric of the Colosseum as the arena floor, a space where the wealthy can feast and drink while the games continue and where they can meet with the gladiators for conversation or for more.In doing so, they seek to gain some fragment of reflected glory by being seen with the champions of the games.
They’re also a space where nobles would command slave gladiators to accompany them to side rooms for pleasure, a place of debauchery and plotting, where nobles and gladiators would stab one another in the back with words and in a more literal sense.It’s a space where I’ve been ignored and commanded, drugged and threatened.A space where my former patron, Lady Elara, would meet me to discuss what she wanted me to do to advance the cause of the beast whisperers, starting rumors that we were lovers to cover the true purpose of our meetings.
Now, there are no official patrons.There aren’t any slave gladiators to command, because First Senator Rowan freed the former empire’s slaves the moment the emperor fell.Everything is different now.
Thingslookthe same, though.It’s still a space lined with marble columns and filled with elegant couches.There are still doors leading off to private rooms, and even as I watch, I see Cesca heading for one of those rooms in the arms of a wealthy couple.It seems she’s still trying to find whatever wealth and position she can by making connections with the right people.There are still servants standing around the receiving rooms with jugs of wine and platters of delicacies.They might be paid now, rather than simply owned, but they’re still there.
"There you are!"Marcus says, heading towards me through the throng of nobles there.He's blond-haired and broad-shouldered, with square-jawed, good-looking features and piercing blue eyes.He's wearing the toga of a fellow senator, although he also wears a necklace in the shape of a ship.Marcus comes from a merchant family and has several trading ships.His work means that the new Republic of Aetheria can maintain trading links with the surrounding kingdoms, building them on a basis of mutual interest rather than just imperial power.
He puts his hands on my arms, kissing me briefly.There’s an electric charge between us, literally, since Marcus’ magic gives him control over weather and lightning.It’s a useful talent for anyone with a fleet of ships, but it also means that lightning dances over my skin, making it tingle.Marcus and I have been together for the last six months, and even now, it feels exciting just to touch him.
“Stop that,” I whisper to him.“People will see.”
