An Ember in the Ashes

“It started in the cave,” she says. “You kept twitching, like you were having a fit of some kind. When I sang to keep the efrits away, you calmed down.

Your color was better, your head wound stopped bleeding. So I—I kept singing. I got tired as I did it—weak, like I had a fever.” Her eyes are panicked. “I don’t know what it means. I’d never try to harness the spirits of the dead. I’m no witch, Elias, I swear—”
“I know that, Hel.” Skies, what would my mother make of this? The Black Guard? Nothing good. Martials believe that supernatural power comes from spirits of the dead and that only the Augurs are possessed by such spirits.
Anyone else with even a touch of power would be accused of witchcraft and sentenced to death.
The evening’s shadows dance across Hel’s face, and it reminds me of how she looked when Rowan Goldgale grabbed her and lit her with that strange glow.
“Mamie Rila used to tell stories,” I say carefully, not wanting to spook Helene. “She talked of humans with strange skills that were awoken by contact with the supernatural. Some could harness strength, others could change the weather. A few could even heal with their voices.”
“Not possible. Only the Augurs have true power—”
“Helene, we fought wraiths and efrits two nights ago. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t? Maybe when that efrit touched you, it woke something up inside you.”
“Something strange.” Helene hands me my fatigues. I’ve only unsettled her more. “Something inhuman. Something—”
“Something that probably saved my life.”
Hel grabs my shoulder, her slim fingers digging into me. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, Elias. Let everyone think the physician is a miracle worker.
Please. I have to—to understand this first. If the Commandant knows, she’ll tell the Black Guard and—”
They’ll try to purge it out of you. “Our secret,” I say. She looks marginally relieved.
When we leave the infirmary, I’m greeted by a cheer—Faris, Dex, Tristas, Demetrius, Leander—hooting and banging me on the back.
“I knew the bastards wouldn’t off you—”
“Cause for celebration, let’s smuggle in a keg—”
“Back up,” Helene says. “Let him breathe.” She’s interrupted by the thudding of the drums.
All new graduates to training field one for combat practice immediately.
The message repeats, and groans and eye-rolling abound. “Do us a favor, Elias,” Faris says. “When you win and become grand overlord, get us out of here, will you?”
“Oi,” Helene says. “What about me? What if I win?”
“If you win, then the docks get shut down and we’ll never have any fun again,” Leander says, winking at me.
“You twit, Leander, I would not shut down the docks,” Helene fumes. “Just because I don’t like brothels—” Leander backs away, his hands protecting his nose.
“Forgive him, oh hallowed Aspirant,” Tristas intones, blue eyes sparkling.
“Do not strike him down. He is but a poor servant—”
“Oh, piss off, all of you,” Helene says.
“Half past ten, Elias,” Leander calls as he and the others walk away. “My room. We’ll have a proper celebration. Aquilla, you can come too, but only if you promise not to break my nose again.”
I tell him I won’t miss it, and after he and the others leave, Hel hands me a vial. “You almost forgot the bloodroot serum.”
“Laia!” I realize the source of the niggling feeling I had earlier. I’d promised the slave-girl bloodroot three days ago. She’ll be in terrible pain from her wound. Has she been taking care of it? Has Cook been cleaning it? Has—
“Who’s Laia?” Helene interrupts my thoughts, her voice dangerously serene.
“She’s...no one.” My promise to a Scholar slave isn’t something Helene will understand. “What else happened while I was at the infirmary? Anything interesting?”
Helene throws me a look that says she’s allowing me to change the subject.
“Resistance ambushed a Mask—Daemon Cassius—in his house. Pretty gruesome, apparently. His wife found him this morning. No one heard a thing.
The bastards are getting bolder. And...there’s something else.” She drops her voice. “My father’s heard a rumor that the Blood Shrike’s dead.”
I stare at her incredulously. “The Resistance?”
Helene shakes her head. “You know that the Emperor’s a few weeks away from Serra—at the most. He’s started to plan his attack on Blackcliff—on us, the Aspirants.”
Grandfather warned me about this. Still, it’s unpleasant to hear.
“When the Blood Shrike heard about the attack plans, he tried to resign his post. So Taius had him executed.”
“You can’t resign as Blood Shrike.” You serve until you die. Everyone knows that.
“Actually,” Helene says, “the Blood Shrike can resign, but only if the Emperor agrees to release him from service. It’s not commonly known—Father says it’s some odd loophole in Empire law. Anyway, if the rumor is true, then the Blood Shrike was a fool to even ask. Taius isn’t going to free his right-hand man right when Gens Taia is being shoved out of power.”
She looks up at me, expecting a response, but I just stare at her open-mouthed, because something huge has occurred to me, something I haven’t understood until now.
If you do your duty, the Augur said, you have a chance to break the bonds between you and the Empire forever.
I know how to do it. I know how I’ll find my freedom.
If I win the Trials, I become Emperor. Nothing but death can release the Emperor from his duty to the Empire. But that’s not the case for the Blood Shrike. The Blood Shrike can resign, but only if the Emperor agrees to release him from service.
I’m not supposed to win the Trials. Helene is. Because if she wins and I become Blood Shrike, then she can set me free.
The revelation is like a punch to the gut and flying, all at once. The Augurs said whoever won two Trials first would become Emperor. Marcus and Helene are both up one. Which means I have to win the next Trial and Helene has to win the Fourth. And sometime between now and then, Marcus and Zak have to die.