My brother’s voice was dark, low. I’d never heard him like that before. But I couldn’t look at him. I turned my gaze away, striding back to that vase so I might hide the tears streaming down my cheeks.
The door burst open, and my mother stood smiling in the threshold. “I was just coming to ask if you were staying for dinner, Adrian.”
Warren turned away, wiping his tears, and cleared his throat.
“No.” I swiped my own tears away and stepped between them to block my brother from view so he could have a moment longer to collect himself. “Thank you, but I have another stop I have to make tonight.”
She nodded and stepped aside. I strode past her into the hall, pausing to kiss her on the cheek in goodbye as I did. In truth, I might have stayed. It’d been too long since I’d last sat down to a proper dinner with my family. But after what I’d just told Warren, I wasn’t sure I could sit across from him all evening, see the pity and concern swirling in equal measure in his expression.
“Adrian,” he called as I reached the door. He stood in the threshold of the dining room with our mother. “We’re all so proud of you. Don’t let the bastards get you down.”
I nodded, tearing up again, and fled the house before I was overcome.
The next door I came to, I didn’t hesitate to knock. Luckily, the man I was there to see opened the door to greet me himself.
“Adrian,” Milo welcomed me with a mixture of surprise and relief. “It’s good to see you. I thought maybe…well, you seemed angry with me the last time we spoke.”
He stepped aside, and I entered House Avus.
“I was,” I replied. “But it seems I’m on an apology tour of sorts tonight, so I thought I might add you to the list.”
He smirked. “I’m honored to have made the list. Though I doubt I’m deserving of it. Likely, I should be the one apologizing to you. I pried into things that were none of my business. I blame the books, you know. Too much time spent with them has made me forget the proper way to speak to another person.”
I chuckled. Hands clasped behind my back, I peered around at the elegant tapestries displayed in House Avus’ foyer.
“Something tells me an urge to make amends is not the only thing that brought you here this evening.” Milo raised a brow.
“You’re right,” I admitted. There was no sense in beating around the bush. “The eighth.”
Milo’s shoulders fell. He sighed as he turned away and stormed off toward the library in a much fouler mood. I followed.
“I’ve found nothing,” he told me, exasperated. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve pored over books that are so old, the pages crack beneath my fingers and I’m afraid they’ll turn to dust. But there isn’t a single word about the eighth Trial or anything beyond it. I’m afraid to say that you and Dante may be on your own from now on.”
I nodded, somewhat disappointed, but it wasn’t as crushing of a blow as it might have been. I’d already pretty much figured out for myself that Milo wouldn’t find anything, given how little he’d found on the sixth and his lack of success with the seventh.
“I was wondering,” I started, keeping my voice as casual as I could, “if, in all your research, you’d come across any mention of a stadium?”
“A stadium?” Milo repeated, brows furrowed. “Like an arena?”
“Yes.”
“A few centuries ago, they used to have a makeshift arena on the Deck where potential candidates would fight to prove their strength as part of the Trials celebrations. Is that what you mean?”
“Was it quite an event? Would there be thousands in attendance?”
“Not thousands. Sanctuary wasn’t so populous then. Why do you ask?”
“I was curious.”
“Quite a targeted question for mere curiosity.”
Milo watched me closely, but I merely shrugged.
“I came across a mention of them in Prima’s Journal,” I lied. “I just thought—”
“Truly? How fascinating. I was under the impression such exhibitions didn’t exist until a few hundred years after Prima. Perhaps I’ll have to go back and read that detail more closely.”
I nodded, relieved as Milo fell into his academic inquiry, searching the shelves for whatever book he had that mentioned a fighting arena much unlike the one I was questioning him about.
