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“Lady Elara came to see you?”

Rowan says, as I spar with him in a practice room, trading blows with wooden weapons, each of us moving smoothly at this point. He sounds as though he can barely believe it. “She's not your patron anymore.”

He punctuates that with a flurry of blows that makes me give ground to dodge and deflect them all. I must be careful with my footing because this is a room with benches and ramps set at odd angles, replicating some of the ways in which the arena floor might be turned into an obstacle course.

“She took advantage of the fact that I don't have a patron at the moment to bribe her way in here to see me,”

I say, thrusting at him with my wooden spear so that he can't advance so quickly, even as I leap up onto one of the benches. It's safer to be off the ground with Rowan, since he can manipulate the earth beneath my feet.

Rowan frowns at that. Our wooden weapons clash, and there seems to be a little more force behind his blows.

“She keeps wanting to see you. She’s willing to bribe her way in, just to do it. Does she really want you that much?”

He sounds jealous.

“It isn't like that,”

I say, even as I dodge aside from the swing of his sword. Because I'm on a beam it's harder to do than usual, but my body has become well trained through my time in Ironhold. I have the balance to keep from falling even as I lean back to avoid the blow.

“Then what is it like?”

Rowan demands. “Because as far as I can see, the nobles are all the same.”

“Lady Elara has a bigger purpose,”

I say. “She wants to change the whole city.”

I'm not sure I can say more than that now because doing so would put Rowan in danger and expose too much of Lady Elara’s plan. I need to convince him, but first, I need to convince myself. I don't want to tell him the whole thing if I'm going to turn around and refuse to take part in it. My focus is still on getting my freedom, ensuring that Alaric is free, and only then thinking about the situation of the city. Ultimately, the empire feels too big for someone like me to change.

Rowan chooses that moment to attack again, striking while I'm still leaning out of the way of his last blow, swinging low so I must lift a leg to avoid his attack. He pushes me with his shield even as I do so, sending me tumbling to the ground. He stands over me then moving close to me, his wooden sword across my throat.

“You need to keep your focus,”

he says. “All of this sounds like a distraction. Remember where you are and what we are. We need to concentrate on getting out of here, and for you that just means one more season.”

He's close to me now, his weight holding me down. I try to attack him with my spear and weighted chain, but he pins my arms. For a moment, we are so close, just inches apart, with both of us sweating and breathing hard. In so many other moments like this before, I would have been tempted to kiss him. Yet I'm surprised to find that, although there is still attraction there between us, although I can still appreciate the defined muscles of his torso above me, I don't want this moment to go any further. My thoughts are only of Alaric.

“You've made your point,”

I say, squirming out from under him. He looks briefly disappointed, but doesn't say anything. I guess he knows that my heart belongs to another now.

“I hope so, Lyra, for your sake. You only have one more set of games to go before you're free, but that means they will throw more at you. The emperor and the people who work for him don't want you to succeed. They would rather you had a glorious death than emerge triumphant.”

He’s right, and it makes me wonder even more if I should go along with anything that Lady Elara is saying. I know that she has plans for both the city and for me, but it seems that I would be putting myself in a much more dangerous situation by trying to build support for her cause inside the games than if I simply completed my time in them and focused on saving Alaric. Does the empire have to fall now? Does the emperor have to be replaced now?

And is that all she intends? I can’t help but think about her last words, about the possibility of getting revenge. I’m not sure I want to see what a beast whisperer bent on revenge might do.

Rowan and I finish our practice session, heading back to the main areas of the fortress. We are on our way to the dining hall when we hear a bell that is typically only wrong to announce the arrival of new gladiators. It is a summons for all of us, I demand that we attend the gates.

Rowan and I head there even though I have no wish to see a new group of gladiators put through their paces. I have already seen it too many times, with people forced to run, to strike wooden posts with blunted weapons, to lift rocks and perform physical exercises until they are ready to drop. The test is always the same: those who stop or who collapse are dragged to the side to be sold in Aetheria’s markets. Ironhold wants only the people with the determination to keep going.

Even though I don't want to watch any of this, I go to the gates of the fortress. Other gladiators are standing around, waiting for whatever new arrivals there will be. But as the gates open there is only a single figure coming through, surrounded by guards.

Alaric.

He is manacled, and there is a leather dampener on his wrist, the same as on mine. The difference is I suspect that no one will have tampered with his to allow him his powers. His mastery over illusion has been stolen from him.

The soldiers beside him look at him with contempt, but they also stare out at us with fear, as if knowing that this is a dangerous moment, surrounded by so many gladiators.

Lord Darius steps out in front of us all. He clearly rang the bell so that we would see this moment and understand everything that is happening to Alaric.

“All of you look at this prisoner,”

he says. “Alaric Blackthorn has been one of the greatest gladiators of the games. His family are among the foremost nobles of Aetheria. But that changes nothing.”

A cold thread of fear runs through me at those words. I think I know what Lord Darius is about to announce, and if he announces that Alaric is to be taken to the parapets and impaled, I will not allow it. I will set every creature in Ironhold against these people. I will fight all of them even though I know I have little chance of succeeding.

I feel Rowan’s hand on my shoulder. Is it a coincidence that his fingers touch the brand there, in a silent reminder that Lord Darius has the magic to burn the flesh of his foes with only the effort of concentration?

“Alaric Blackthorn killed a fellow gladiator of Ironhold, outside of the confines of a bout. He tried to argue that he was only acting in the defense of another, and I'm sure there are those among you who have sympathy with that argument. It is one of the reasons that it has taken so long to make a decision about this. But the emperor has decreed that even that does not excuse such a death here. It is one of our most important rules, crucial to keeping order within this place. And so, the emperor has decided that Alaric will pay the ultimate price for it.”

I pull against the strength of Rowan’s grip, but he holds me in place. I see Alaric look around, and his eyes find mine. He looks so sad and broken for an instant there, but then it's as if he collects himself, bringing his face under control in the kind of mask of arrogant indifference that he always presents to the world. In some ways, that hurts even worse, because I know it's the only thing he has left to keep people from seeing how afraid and alone he is.

I start to gather my power. I don't care that Rowan is holding me back. If they are going to take Alaric to the walls to kill him they will find themselves facing an army of beasts.

A part of me notes that Lord Darius has said that the emperor has declared that Alaric will die, when it is Selene Ravenscroft who is the arch magistrate of the empire. Has the emperor imposed his authority above her decisions within the law? If so, why? Is it just more evidence of his madness and cruelty, or is there some purpose to it?

Lord Darius takes a breath and keeps going. “It has been decreed that Alaric will not die here as is traditional. Instead, he will meet his fate at the conclusion of the next round of games. He will be executed in the colosseum, so that everyone might see it.”

The master of Ironhold keeps any hint of disapproval out of his voice. He is normally a stickler for tradition, but he also won't criticize the emperor.

“In the time between now and then, he will be held in Ironhold, and all of you will reflect on his punishment. You will not seek to speak with him, to contact him, to even look upon his face. If you do you will invite punishment of your own, determined by the emperor himself. You have been warned.”

I feel certain he's looking my way as he says it.

I don't know what to think as the guards take Alaric away, leading him into the depths of the fortress. I feel devastated by the announcement of his impending execution. A part of me wants to rush after the guards and take them on at once, slaying them to free Alaric.

Another part is thinking in terms of other possibilities. I do not have time now to achieve my own freedom and then argue for his. I do not have time in which to build slowly towards life and hope for both of us. Instead, I must find a way to act immediately. To free us before the conclusion of the games.

I think about the creatures down in the depths of Ironhold. I want to rush to the beast pens now. My mind is already filling with wild schemes of burrowing creatures that can reach his cell, monstrous things that can tear the bars from it. With my powers, I want to believe that I can find a way to free Alaric and get him to safety.

But I am also not so foolish as to believe that any of these wild ideas can actually succeed. I have power, but Ironhold is designed to contain people with power. All my skills and talents count for nothing here. I cannot take on every guard at once. I cannot fight all of those patrolling the walls. Even if I could, what then? If we got beyond the fortress, the full might of Aetheria would be sent to hunt us down.

In spite of my power I am helpless in the face of this, and I hate the way that the empire has made me feel helpless again and again, from the first moments when soldiers claimed me in its name, all the way to this instance when I cannot simply save the man I care about so much.

In moments like this, I can understand Lady Elara’s hatred for the empire.

But I can do one thing. Alaric is back in Ironhold, and that means that I can speak with him for the first time in what feels like forever. I do not care that it is forbidden. I do not care that Lord Darius has only just told us that we cannot seek contact with him.

I must speak with Alaric, and I will, whatever the cost, but I must also be careful about it, because I know I cannot afford to be caught.