A hint of warmth enters her eyes. “The Primus is fine. I know you’re about to complete your third challenge, but there’s another body. A gladian.” She lowers her voice. “We’re keeping it quiet until after the challenge, but I’d like you to …”
I swallow. “To identify them.”
“Yes. It won’t take long.”
I follow her to the imperius quarters, where the body is splayed, gaping open. His heart is … missing.
Just like in the Thorn. My mind races, but as far as I know, I’m the only gladian from Fog’s Edge. Is this the same killer? Or just the same style?
“It’s Gradon,” I say, my voice thick.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Neris shakes her head, eyes filled with frustration. I crouch, attempting to block out the grimace frozen on Gradon’s face.
His neck is marked with a strange sigil. I’ve seen it somewhere before, but for the life of me, I can’t remember when. From the blood smeared over his skin, the killer must have wiped Gradon’s neck before placing the mark above his collarbone.
“This mark …”
Neris’s jaw firms.
“You know what it is.” Understanding drifts through me. “Youhavebeen investigating.”
“Of course we have. We kept it quiet because we didn’t want to spook the killer, but whoever it is, they’re smart. They know we’re looking. Leaving this body here is a taunt.”
I gaze down at Gradon’s body. He was a good man who loved to brag about his beautiful wife—the wife he had planned to visit on our next free day.
“You better get back,” Neris says. “Good luck.”
Maeva is waiting for me outside the gladian barracks by the time I return. Her long hair is braided, and she’s strapped on a few extra knives.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Hester and Baldric are also in our group.” She wrinkles her pert nose. “And Sisenna.”
“Great.”
She gives me a questioning look. But perhaps it’s better for her to know now, so it’s less of a shock directly before the challenge.
“Maeva … Gradon is dead.”
The color drains from her face. “Another one.”
“Yes. It hasn’t been announced yet. You were friendly with Gradon. Do you know if he had any problems with anyone?”
“No.” Her eyes glisten. “He was just a man who wanted to earn enough to start a family with his wife. I’ll ask around. See if anyone knows anything.”
We’re silent as we meet the others and walk down the long corridor between the ludus and the arena. Several other gladians are alsowearing their lightest armor—including Hester and Baldric. Clearly Bran isn’t the only sponsor willing to disobey the emperor and warn his gladian.
Garet and Kaeso trail behind us, while Titus lurks in the background. He keeps to himself, but I haven’t forgotten how much he seemed to truly enjoy killing Leira.
Our guardants are waiting beneath the arena, and I find Leon leaning against a wall next to Albion and another guardant I haven’t met.
“Wait here,” the enforcer says. “Leave your swords with your guardants. You’ll get them back later.”
“Who is going out first?” Hester demands.
