“I’m happy I could entertain them enough,” I say, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of my voice.
“You’re angry with me?”Marcus says.
I shake my head.“I just think it’s wrong to get too excited about the bouts when people’s lives are at stake in them.”
“No one died in yours,” Marcus points out.
“And did you see how the crowd reacted?”I say.“They liked it.I don’t think everyone here is as excited by blood and death as Selene wants to believe.”
As Marcus seems to believe, too, given that he’s often pushed for the return of “real” fights to the arena.
“Maybe I underestimated the common folk a touch,” Marcus says.“Although your mercy is made more powerful preciselybecausethere’s a real chance of death for both you and your opponent.”
“Selene showed mercy in her fight, too,” I point out.
Marcus nods.“That’s a political move.She wants the soldiers on her side, and Legio has a lot of influence with them.”
It must be strange, seeing the world as Marcus does, where everything is a move in some grand game and every action must be weighed for its political consequences.Even when he suggested that I should marry him, it was as much about the impact we’d have on the city as a couple as because of what was between us.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we can simply head back to your villa?”I ask him.
Marcus shakes his head with a smile.“You know we can’t.The fight on the arena floor isn’t the only battle to be waged today, and we’re expected in the receiving rooms.”
I can't stop a sigh escaping my lips.The receiving rooms are my least favorite part of the colosseum, because they symbolize all the inequality and corruption inherent in the games.They're a large central chamber, lined with frescos and with bright mosaics on the floors, with gilded statues of famous gladiators and marble columns.There are couches set at intervals, along with tables filled with the finest food.Servants stand ready to provide wine or other entertainments as the noble patrons of the rooms require.Doorways lead off to a series of private rooms where, in the days of the empire, nobles would be attended by gladiators or servants, either to talk or for more intimate encounters.
The receiving rooms have always been a way for the wealthy to bask in the reflected glory of gladiators, fresh from risking their lives upon the sands.Aetheria has long prized martial prowess and magical might above all else, and these rooms are a way for those with money to associate with those who possess both traditional Aetherian virtues.At best, they're a place for gladiators to acquire noble patrons and start to make connections in the higher ranks of society.At worst, they're a place of intrigue and backbiting, betrayal, and secrets.
The receiving rooms currently hold several nobles and senators, lounging on couches and attended by servants.Selene isn't here because she no longer needs to gain the attention of the nobles this way.They will come to her, now.
As soon as I walk in on Marcus’ arm, nobles approach us, a couple of them applauding me loudly.
“A most impressive bout from your gladiator, Marcus,” a noble named Quintus says.He’s young and handsome, in a dissipated kind of way, with long dark hair and thin features.I note he congratulates Marcus, not me.
“I’m sure Lyra will do far more impressive things than that before these games are concluded," Marcus assures the noble.
"I'm sure," Quintus says.He looks me up and down, and I'm all too aware of just how little my armor covers."I don't suppose you want to let me borrow her for a while, Marcus?"
He speaks as if Marcus owns me.But then, the terms of my release from Aetheria's prison mean that he all but does.Marcus took responsibility for me and for making sure that I stay contained.He has the absolute authority, even the obligation, to punish any transgression I make.I'm meant to obey his every command or risk being sent back to the prison at best, executed at worst.
With anyone else, that would have made my situation dire indeed.It’s an arrangement Selene allowed because it’s a slow move towards bringing slavery back to Aetheria, when First Senator Rowan outlawed it as his first act in power.
Marcus gives Quintus a hard look, and the noble raises his hands.
“All right, all right.I know she’s yours.But you can’t blame a man for asking.Especially not when she won’t be around much longer.There’s no way she beats Selene, after all.”
“Are you so sure of that?”Marcus asks.
Quintus shrugs.“Everyone knows the way things are going to be.Selene will win the games, then she’ll take power in the city.It’s inevitable.”
"Is it?"Marcus asks, putting an arm around the noble and leading him away to one of the side rooms.I guess he intends to persuade Quintus against Selene's cause, although, if so, he's acting far more openly than he normally would.Marcus has carefully built the reputation of being one of Selene's allies.Acting against her might invite danger for him and all those around him.But maybe this is a moment when heneedsto be more open.Selene is closing in on power too quickly for subtlety now.
I should probably follow the two, but instead, I spot several figures who wear furs that seem similar to those Jor wore.There are men and women there, all looking uncomfortable amid the finery of the receiving rooms.I go to them, and an older man looks up from one of the couches.His face is scarred, his hair thinning, but there's still a sense of strength in his expression.
“You’re the one who defeated my grandson,” he says.
“You’re Jor’s grandfather?”I ask.
He nods.“I’m Lorik, of the Tribe of the Moon.Why did you let Jor live, city dweller?”
