I nod to Maeva, who pulls the boy in her arms closer. He’s quiet, still, staring unseeingly at the charred remains of his parents.
Screams and sobs echo throughout the Circus.
Several rows to our right, people begin laughing. The sound cuts through the horror, offensive and shocking.
Baldric and Hester.
Maeva’s sigil flares, and the stone bench crumbles to dust beneath them. They land with enraged screams, immediately searching for the culprit.
Leon leans close. “Hand them over. Now. You’re novices. If you’re seen with these children …”
He’s right. “Maeva. Let him go.”
She hesitates, finally handing the boy to Leon, who passes him off to Albion. “You’ll make sure—”
“We’ll search for family members. If they don’t have any, we’ll find them good homes,” Leon says.
Kaeso looks tortured as he gives the little girl to Leon, and she holds out her arms, screaming for him. She’s too young to understand what just happened, but she somehow equates the vampire with safety.
“You can trust Leon,” I murmur to Kaeso. “He would never allow a child to be harmed.”
Leon disappears, and I stare past Kaeso to Garet. Just yesterday, none of the sigilmarked gladians would speak to any of the vampires after the emperor ordered Tiberius’s guard turned for leaving his post. It was so easy for them to turn on Kaeso.
And yet the vampire didn’t even hesitate to save sigilmarked children today, while Garet stewed in his own cowardice. The same cowardice that got Tolva killed during the third challenge. Garet’s eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head, dropping his gaze. I won’t forget this.
A hand slams down onto my shoulder. Neris.
“You’re lucky the emperor didn’t see that,” she mutters. “You need to come with me.”
Maeva is still staring at the chariots, her eyes blank.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I murmur.
Exhaustion pulls at me and I follow Neris back toward the otherimperiums. The wardens have melted away now, leaving death and despair behind. “When can we leave?”
“When the emperor does.” Neris’s expression is flat, but rage burns in her eyes.
Vallius shows no sign of boredom. No, he’s watching the chariots, his eyes intent as he leans forward, as if nothing has happened.
Sigilkeeper Drugov Nistor stands near the emperor, his expression carefully blank, his face white. Next to him, Maeva’s father places a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something.
“The emperor used the city wardens for this,” I murmur. “Instead of the Guard.”
“The Guard is under the emperor’s authority,” Neris says.
“Everything is under the emperor’s authority.”
“Yes, but Nistor is in charge of the wardens. It may be the emperor who gave the order, but the populace will only have seen Nistor’s wardens striking them down. He will be the one they blame.”
Micah stands with his feet spread, arms crossed, eyebrows lowered. But he’s shaking with fury. He spares me a single glance before returning his attention to the chariots. “Two laps to go.”
I stare unseeingly at the track, my mind replaying the moment I reached for the woman’s hand. If I’d just leaned a little farther. If I’d been a little faster. If I’d understood sooner …
Those children would at least have one parent.
No one speaks. Micah and Neris flank me, while several other imperiums slowly begin moving from where they were positioned in the crowd. None of them seem burned, although all are powerful enough to protect themselves from the wardens.
Did they protect anyone else?
