At the far end of the room, Cai and Quintus—male and military and therefore, presumably, the only real threat—were shackled and chained to a stone column.
I understood why the infirmary had been chosen as the place to gather the girls together. The barracks had dozens of cells, but multiple entrances and no locks on the doors. Here, though, there was only one door, and the windows were high and too small to climb through. And there were plenty of beds, along with Heron the physician to tend any injuries the girls had sustained. He was there now, crushing herbs in a mortar and muttering to himself. And he was the first one to notice me as I stepped further into the room.
“Fallon!” he exclaimed, and set the mortar down with a clatter.
Cai’s head snapped up and his jaw dropped in surprise as our eyes met for a brief moment. I held up the key ring so he could see it, rattling the keys, and he smiled that slow smile I’d grown so fond of and missed so much. But before I could move to unlock him and Quintus, Elka was across the room and grabbing me by the shoulders, grinning savagely.
“I knew it!” she said. “I knew you’d find your way back.”
“I didn’t. Not without help, at least . . .”
Aeddan moved out from behind me, and everyone else went statue-still. I glared pointedly at the black feather-crested helmet he still wore. He winced and reached up to remove it. Tucking it under his arm, he said, “The main house is still quiet, but we should make haste . . .”
Aeddan’s words trailed off as he realized Elka was staring at him, the fire in her eyes gone ice-cold. She took a single step forward. “What is he—”
“I’ll explain later.” I put a hand on her shoulder, forestalling any immediate violence, but Elka’s hands were clenched in fists and stayed that way. “Right now, we have to figure out how to get out of here. All of us.”
I left her standing there facing Aeddan, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills, as I made my way over to Cai and Quint, murmuring greetings to the other girls as I went. I fumbled through the keys and, finding one that looked like it would fit, turned it in the shackle locks. The chains fell away, landing in a rattling heap on the floor. Quint nodded his thanks, and Cai reached out for me, drawing me into an embrace—but I stopped him with a hand on his chest. He nodded, taking it to mean that there would be time for that later, but in reality I just didn’t want him to know I was hurt. I couldn’t afford either affection or sympathy in that moment if I was to stay strong and keep from breaking like a dry reed.
I turned back to the others as they crowded around, asking questions.
“This is madness, Fallon . . .”
“Where have you been?”
“What’s going on? Was there really a rebellion?”
“Why are we being kept locked up?”
“Is the Lanista really dead?”
I held up my hands, swallowing hard against the knot in my throat at that last question. “All I know for certain,” I said, “is this: Pontius Aquila has taken control of this ludus. And that means he’s taken control of us. If we stay.”
“If? What do you mean, ‘if’?” Damya gaped at me. “We’re prisoners!”
The girls all fell silent, and Cai took a step forward.
“Where are the guards, Fallon?” he asked quietly.
We locked eyes for a moment. “Indisposed.”
Ajani nodded decisively. “Then now’s our chance.”
There was a loud murmur of assent from all the others.
Almost all the others.
I looked toward the one silent corner of the room. “Tanis?”
The other girls turned to where the young archer leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her mouth in a tight line.
“You’re coming with us,” Ajani said, stepping forward to put a hand on her fellow archer’s shoulder. “Aren’t you?”
Tanis shrugged out of her grip. “We’re no safer out there than we are in here.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
“First you want to leave and now you want to stay,” Gratia said, her lip curling in disgust. “Which is it, gladiolus?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want! What any of us wants—it never did. Don’t you get that?” Tanis looked at Gratia like she was simple in the head. “We’re not free. We were stupid to think that we ever would be. Who cares how he took over the ludus?”
“I care,” I said. “He murdered my sister.”
The words dropped from my mouth like stones down a well, cold and dark and echoing. The room went silent for a moment, and then Tanis shook her head.
“You don’t know that,” she said. “What if he was telling the truth? About the rebellion attempt? We’re not all pure and good here, Fallon. No matter how much you like to think we are.” She glared around the room, the heat of her gaze lingering on Meriel and Gratia and a few of the other girls. “Any one of us could have—”
Meriel took a swing at her, and the room erupted into a chaos of shouting. Until Aeddan finally stepped forward, imposing in his black cloak and armor, and drew his sword. “Shut up!” he snarled. “All of you.”
“Aeddan!” I pushed toward him through the tangle of girls. “Put that sword down or someone’s going to get hurt!”
That someone was probably going to be him. The girls surrounding him might not have been armed, but they were the embodiment of strength in numbers. I just wished Tanis could see that.
With a huff of frustration, Aeddan slammed his sword back into its sheath. “If you stay here, you will die,” he said.
“It’s a ludus.” Tanis kept up her sullen argument. “Dying’s pretty much the point, isn’t it?”
“No,” I said. “Fighting is the point. At least, it was. Pontius Aquila is different.”
But some of the younger girls had begun to frown and shift uneasily. I couldn’t blame them. All they knew—really knew—about the situation was that something had happened to the Lanista, and a rival ludus owner was now in charge of the academy. Nyx had gone on to fight for him, and Nyx had been one of us. How bad could it really be? I realized, then, that I was the only one of the Achillea gladiatrices who understood just how dire the situation was. Cai and Aeddan knew, but I’d never spoken to any of the other girls about the horrors I’d encountered in the Domus Corvinus. I hadn’t even told Elka. I’d never wanted to relive those memories.
“Fallon is right,” Cai said, stepping forward. “And so is he.” He nodded at Aeddan. “Pontius Aquila is a respected citizen. He is the Tribune of the Plebs and an influential politician. He is also mad and dangerous. And utterly ruthless.”
Even Tanis went still at that.
“The arena games aren’t just sport to him,” I said, my voice ragged in the sudden silence. “They’re . . . rituals. Twisted blood rites. He belongs to a secret society of men who stage private munera where the fighters are nothing more than sacrifices to a dark god they call Dis.”