An Ember in the Ashes

“With a training scim?”
“Might take longer.” I drive it harder into his ribs. “But it’ll do the job.”
“You’re on watch tonight, Snake,” Helene says. “What the hell are you doing in a dark hallway with a slave?”
“Practicing for you, Aquilla.” Marcus licks a little of the blood off his lip before turning to me. “The slave puts up more of a fight than you do, bastard—”

“Shut it, Marcus,” I say. “Hel, check her.”
Helene leans down to see if the slave is breathing—it won’t be the first time Marcus has killed a slave. I hear her groan.
“Elias...”
“What?” I’m getting angrier by the second, almost hoping Marcus will try something. An old-fashioned fistfight to the death will do me good. From the shadows, Izzi watches us, too frightened to move.
“Let him go,” Helene says. I stare at her in shock, but her face is unreadable. “Go,” she says tersely to Marcus, pulling my sword arm down. “Get out of here.”
Marcus smiles at Helene, that grating smirk that makes me want to beat the life from him. “You and me, Aquilla,” he says as he backs away, eyes smoldering. “I knew you’d start to see it.”
“Leave, damn it.” Helene hurls a knife at him, missing his ear by inches.
“Go!”
When the Snake disappears out the door, I turn on Helene. “Tell me there was a reason for that.”
“It’s the Commandant’s slave. Your...friend. Laia.”
I see then the cloud of dark hair, the gold skin, which had been obscured by Marcus’s body before. A sick feeling fills me as I crouch down beside her and turn her over. Her wrist is broken, the bone jutting out against the skin.
Bruises darken her arms and neck. She moans and tries to move. Her hair is a tangled mess, and both of her eyes are blackened and swollen shut.
“I’ll kill Marcus for this,” I say, my voice flat and calm, a calm I don’t feel.
“We have to get her to the infirmary.”
“Slaves are forbidden from seeking treatment in the infirmary,” Izzi whispers from behind us. I’d forgotten she was there. “The Commandant will punish her for it. And you. And the physician.”
“We’ll take her to the Commandant,” Helene says. “The girl’s her property. She has to decide what to do with her.”
“Cook can help her,” Izzi adds.
They’re both right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I pick Laia up gently, mindful of her wounds. She is light, and I pull her head to my shoulder.
“You’ll be fine,” I murmur to her. “All right? You’re going to be just fine.”
I stride out of the hall, not waiting to see if Helene and Izzi follow. What would have happened if Helene and I hadn’t been nearby? Marcus would have raped Laia and she’d have bled out whatever life she had left on that cold stone floor. The knowledge fans the rage burning within me.
Laia shifts her head and moans. “Damn—him—”
“To the lowest pit of hell,” I mutter. I wonder if she still has the bloodroot I gave her. This is too much for bloodroot, Elias.
“Tunnel,” she says. “Darin—Maz—”
“Shhh,” I say. “Don’t talk now.”
“All evil here,” she whispers. “Monsters. Little monsters and then big ones.”
We reach the Commandant’s house, and Izzi holds open the gate to the servants’ corridor. Upon seeing us through the propped kitchen door, Cook drops a bag of spice she’s holding, staring at Laia in horror.
“Get the Commandant,” I order her. “Tell her that her slave is injured.”
“In here.” Izzi gestures to a low door with a curtain strung across it. I lay Laia down on the pallet inside with aching slowness, one limb at a time. He lene hands me a threadbare blanket, and I pull it over the girl, knowing how futile it is. A blanket won’t help her.
“What happened?” The Commandant speaks from behind me. Helene and I duck out into the servants’ corridor, now crowded with, Izzi, Cook, and the Commandant.
“Marcus attacked her,” I say. “He nearly killed her—”
“She shouldn’t have been out at this hour. I dismissed her for the evening.
Any injuries she’s sustained are the result of her own foolhardiness. Leave her. You’re on the east wall for watch tonight, as I recall.”
“Will you send for the physician? Shall I get him?”
The Commandant stares at me as if I’m off my gourd.
“Cook will tend to her,” she says. “If she lives, she lives. If she dies...”
My mother shrugs. “Not that it’s any business of yours. You slept with the girl, Veturius. That doesn’t mean you own her. Get to watch.” She puts a hand on her whip. “If you’re late, I’ll take every minute out of your hide. Or,” she tilts her head thoughtfully, “the slave’s, if you prefer.”
“But—”
Helene grabs me by the arm and pulls me down the corridor.
“Let go of me!”
“Didn’t you hear her?” Helene says as she hauls me away from the Commandant’s house and across the sand training fields. “If you’re late to watch, she’ll whip you. The Third Trial’s two days away. How will you survive it if you can’t even put on your armor?”
“I thought you didn’t care what happened to me anymore,” I say. “I thought you were done with me.”
“What did she mean,” Helene asks quietly, “when she said you’d slept with the girl?”
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I say. “I’m not like that, Helene, you should know better. Look, I’ve got to find some way to help Laia.
For one second, put aside the fact that you hate me and want me to suffer and die. Can you think of anyone I can take her to? Even someone down in the city—”
“The Commandant won’t allow it.”
“She won’t know—”
“She’ll find out. What’s wrong with you? The girl isn’t even a Martial. And she has one of her own to help her. That cook’s been around for ages. She’ll know what to do.”
Laia’s words echo in my mind. All evil here. Monsters. Little monsters and then big ones. She’s right. What is Marcus if not the worst kind of monster?
He beat Laia with the intent of killing her, and he won’t even get punished for it. What is Helene when she so casually shrugs off the idea of helping the girl? And what am I? Laia’s going to die in that dark little room. And I’m doing nothing to stop it.