“You’d need a cock for that, coward.”
The barb came from across the corridor. Mia looked up to see Butcher, the Ruiner of Porridges, watching them from between the bars of his cage. His face was all bent nose and pockmarked skin, his body a patchwork of scar tissue.
Sidonius scowled at the gladiatii. “Call me coward again, I’ll kill you and your whole fucking family.”
“Talk, talk, little one,” Butcher’s lips twisted in an ugly smirk. “You’ll see how much it avails you when you step into the circle with Executus.”
“Pfft, you think I can’t dance with a lame old dog like that?”
Butcher shook his head. “You’re talking about one of the greatest gladiatii to walk the sand, you ignorant fool. He’ll chew you up and use your bones for toothpicks.”
Sidonius blinked. “Eh?”
“You never heard of the Red Lion of Itreya?”
“’Byss and blood.” Mia looked to the gate Executus had left by. “That’s Arkades?”
Matteo rubbed his eyes, sat up a little. “Who’s Arkades?”
Butcher scoffed. “Clueless, the lot of them…”
“The Red Lion, they called him,” Mia said.
“… Executus used to be a slave like us?” Matteo asked.
“Not like you, you worthless shit,” Butcher snarled. “He was fucking gladiatii.”
“Victor of the Venatus Magni ten years back.” Mia spoke softly, voice hushed with awe. “The Ultima was a free-for-all. Every gladiatii who’d been signed up for the games was released onto the sand for that final match. One warrior sent out every minute until the killing was done. Must’ve been almost two hundred.”
“Two hundred and forty-three,” Butcher said.
“And Executus killed them all?” Matteo breathed.
“Not by himself,” Mia said. “But he was the last standing when the butchery was done. They say the sand in Godsgrave arena has never been the same color since.”
“So they named him the Red Lion,” Butcher said. “He won his freedom under Leonides’s colors, see? Standing on a leg so badly broken, they had to cut it off afterward.” He sneered at Sid. “Still want to dance with him, little man?”
Sidonius scowled, remained silent.
“I commanded you to sleep!” came the bellow from the portcullis.
Butcher sniffed, rolled over on his straw. Matteo did likewise, and after a few choice curses, Sid curled up with his back to them all. Mia sat brooding in the gloom.
The arkemical globes faded, their glow dying slow. Darkness fell in the barracks, only the faintest chinks of sunslight falling across the threshold from the stairs above. Mia felt it crawling across her scalp, goosebumps rising on her skin. The air down here was stifling, the stink of straw and sweat thick in the air. But at least it was dark.
It almost felt like home.
She waited an hour, until every chest rose and fell with the rhythm of slumber. Matteo murmuring. Sidonius snoring softly. Mia looked around the gloom, making sure each of her fellows was still. She closed her eyes. Held her breath
and Stepped
out of the shadows
in her cell
and into the shadows
of the antechamber.
The room swam and she steadied herself against the wall. She could feel the heat of those two blazing suns in the sky above. Crouching low, she peered through the portcullis, back to the cells. And content her absence was unmarked, she stole like a whisper up into the keep.
Without Mister Kindly or Eclipse in her shadow, her heart was pounding, her palms damp with fear. She knew the building’s layout like she knew her own name, but with no eyes to see except her own, she felt utterly alone. She could have waited until the shadowcat returned from Whitekeep with news, but her questions couldn’t. Since the turn her father died, she’d wondered what she was. Now, all the answers might be only a heartbeat away …
She moved swift, all Shahiid Mouser’s lessons ringing in her head. Listening for the tread of the houseguards who walked the lower levels. There was only one pair patrolling inside and it was easy enough to avoid them, sneaking through the silken curtains and ducking out of sight, making her way toward the kitchens.
She found them empty, the starving chef nowhere to be seen. But there was food aplenty in the larder and Mia dove in face-first, eating her fill. If she was to survive the Winnowing, she’d need every ounce of strength she could muster. She stole two steel forks, then slipped from the kitchens without a sound.
She dodged the patrol again, listening to the sickness in her belly and working her way by feel. She passed a long tapestry depicting the venatus—gladiatii clashing with fantastical beasts. Sets of gladiatii armor lined the hallway, sunslight glinting on crested helms and breastplates of polished steel. Fear rising now, churning in her belly as she reached a room with a barred slit, an iron lock.
And beyond it …
She took the two forks from her loincloth, bent the tines against the wall. Turning her ear for the guards, she knelt before the keyhole and set to work. Soon enough, it popped open, the door came next, and with a glance over her shoulder for the guards, she stole inside.
Hands around her neck, twisting tight, flipping her over a broad shoulder and sending her crashing to the floor. Stars burst in her eyes as her skull cracked on the flagstones, an elbow jammed into her throat. She blinked up into a pair of glittering brown eyes, a handsome face framed by flowing locks of raven black.
Furian, the Unfallen.
He sat atop her, crushing the air from her lungs. This close, the gnawing sickness she felt in his presence was all-consuming, becoming less an illness and closer to a terrible hunger. But more pressing still was the need to breathe.
Mia pricked one of her forks into the champion’s armpit. One good thrust and it’d slip over his ribcage and into the heart beyond. She tapped it against the hollow, trying not to sputter as Furian pressed his elbow farther into her larynx.
She pushed her steel harder, glaring wordlessly. And finally, Furian eased off, leaning back just enough to allow her to breathe.
His voice was deep and melodic. His eyes the brown of dark chocolate, delicious but edged with bitterness. Mia tried very hard not to notice that the body he pressed against her was utterly naked.
“What are you doing in here, slave?”
She put her free hand on his elbow, slowly pushed it aside.
“We need to talk,” she replied. “Brother.”
CHAPTER 10
SECRETS
Thunder split the skies as Ash and Jessamine clashed on the cathedral roof.