For three days after the Moon Festival, Helene avoids me. She ignores
knocks on her door, leaves the mess hall when I appear, and begs off
when I approach her head on. When we’re paired together in training, she
attacks me as if I’m Marcus. When I speak to her, she goes suddenly deaf.
I let it go at first, but by the third day, I’m sick of it. On my way to
combat training, I’m concocting a plan to confront her — something
in volving a chair and rope and maybe a gag so she has no choice but to
listen to me — when Cain appears beside me as suddenly as a ghost. My
scim is half - drawn before I realize who it is.
“Skies, Cain. Don’t do that.”
“Greetings, Aspirant Veturius. Wonderful weather.” The Augur looks up
at the hot blue sky admiringly.
“Yeah, if you’re not training with double scims under the baking sun,” I
mutter. It’s not even noon, and I’m so covered in sweat that I’ve given up
and taken off my shirt. If Helene was speaking to me, she’d frown and say
it’s not regulation. I’m too hot to care.
“You are healed fr om the Second Trial?” Cain asks.
“No thanks to you.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I
don’t feel particularly regretful. Multiple attempts on my life have taken a
toll on my manners.
“The Trials are not meant to be easy, Elias. That is why they are called
the Trials.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” I speed up, hoping Cain will piss off. He doesn’t.
“I bring you a message,” he says. “The next Trial will take place in
seven days.”
At least we get some warning this time. “What’s it going to be?” I ask.
“Pu blic flogging? A night locked in a trunk with a hundred vipers?”
“Combat against a formidable foe,” Cain says. “Nothing you can’t
handle.”
“What foe? What’s the catch?” No way the Augur will tell me what I’m
up against without leaving something essential out. It’s going to be a sea of
wraiths we’re fighting. Or jinn. Or some other beastie they’ve woken from
the darkness.
“We haven’t woken anything from the darkness that wasn’t already
awake,” Cain says.
I bite back a response. If he picks my mind again, I swear, I’ll shove this
blade through him, Augur or not.
“It wouldn’t do any good, Elias.” He smiles, almost sadly, then nods to
the field, where Hel is training. “I ask that you pass the message along to
Aspirant Aquilla.”
“As Aquilla isn’t speaking with me, that might be a bit difficult.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
He drifts off, leaving me more ill - tempered than before.
When Hel and I argue, we usually patch things up in a few hours — a day
at most. Th ree days is a record for us. Worse, I’ve never seen her lose her
temper the way she did three nights ago. Even in battle, she is always cool,
controlled.
But she’s been different the past few weeks. I’ve known it, though like a
fool I’ve tried not to see it. But I can’t ignore her behavior anymore. It has
to do with that spark between us, that attraction. Either we crush it or we do
something about it. And I’m thinking that while the latter might be more
enjoyable, it will create complications neither of us needs.
When did Helene change? She has always been in control of every
emotion, every desire. She’s never shown interest in any of her comrades,
and, other than Leander, none of us is stupid enough to try to start anything
with her.
So what happened between us that changed things? I think back to the
first time I noticed her acting strange: the morning she found me in the
catacombs. I’d tried to distract her by leering. I’d done it without thinking,
hoping to ke ep her from finding my pack. I figured she’d just think it was
me being male.
Is that what did it? That one look? Has she been acting so strangely
because she thinks I want her, and so she feels like she has to want me
back?
If that’s the case, then I need to clear things up with her straightaway. I’ll
tell her that it was a fluke. That I didn’t mean anything by it.
Will she acc ept my apology? Only if you grovel enough.
Fine. It will be worth it. If I want my freedom, I have to win the next
Trial. In the first two, Hel and I d epended on each other for survival. The
third will probably be the same. I need her on my side.
I find Hel on the combat field sparring with Tristas while a Combat
Centurion looks on. The boys and I tease Tristas for constantly mooning
over his fiancée, but he’s one of the finest swordsmen at Blackcliff, clever
and cat - swift. He waits for Helene to slip up, taking note of the aggression
in her strokes. But her defense is as impenetrable as the walls of Kauf.
Minutes after I arrive at the field, she’s thrown off Tristas’s attack and
jabbed his heart.
“Greetings, oh holy Aspirant,” Tristas calls out when he sees me. At
Helene’s stiffening shoulders, he glances between us and makes a quick
d eparture. Along with Faris and Dex, Tristas has tried r epeatedly to figure
out what went wrong between Helene and me on the night of the party —
which neither of us attended. But Hel’s been as silent as I have, and they’ve
given up, instead grunting to one another pointedly when she and I beat
each other down on the battlefield.
“Aquilla,” I call to her as she sheathes her scims. “I need to talk to you.”
Silence.
Fine, then. “Cain said to tell you the next Trial is in seven days.”
I head to the armory, unsurprised when I hear her footst eps trailing.
“Well, what is it?” She grabs my shoulder and pulls me around. “What’s
the Trial?”
Her face is flushed, and her eyes flash. Skies, she’s pretty when she’s
angry.
The thought surprises me, accompanied as it is by a pulse of fierce
desire. It’s Helene, Elias. Helene.
“Combat,” I say. “We’ll be up against a ‘formidable foe.’”
“Right,” she says. “Good.” But she doesn’t move, only glares at me,
unaware that the tendrils of hair that have es caped her braid make the glare
much less intimidating than she’d like.
“Hel, look, I know you’re mad, but — ”
“Oh, go put on a shirt.” She stalks away, muttering about twits who
flaunt regulation. I stifle an angry retort. Why is she so damn stubborn?
As I enter the armory, I run straight into Marcus, who shoves me into the
doorframe. For once, Zak’s not with him.
“Your whore’s still not talking to you?” he says. “Not spending time
with you either, is she? Avoiding you . . . avoiding the other boys . . .
alone . . . ” He looks speculatively at Helene’s retreating back, and I go for
my scim, but Marcus is already holding a dagger to my stomach.
“She belongs to me, you know. I dreamt it.” His calmness chills me
more than any boasting could. “One of these days, I’ll find her, and you
won’t be around,” he says. “And I’ll make her mine.”
“You stay away from her. Anything happens to her, I’ll slit you open
from your neck to your sorry — ”
“It’s always threats with you,” Marcus says. “You never actually do
anything. Not surprising for a traitor whose mask hasn’t even melded yet.”
He leans forward. “The mask knows you’re we ak, Elias. It knows you don’t
belong. That’s why it’s still not a part of you. That’s why I should kill you.”
His dagger cuts into my stomach, releasing a trickle of blood. One
thrust, one pull upward, and he could gut me like a fish. I shake with anger.
I’m at his mercy, and I hate him for it.
“But the Centurions are watching.” Marcus’s gaze flicks to our left,
where the Combat Centurion is fast approaching. “And I’d rather kill you
slow.” He strolls away lazily, saluting the Combat Centurion as he passes.
Furious with myself, with Helene, with Marcus, I shove open the armory
door and go straight to the heavy weaponry rack, settling on a tri - flanged
mace. I swing it through the air and pretend I’m taking off Marcus’s head.
When I get back out to the field, the Combat Centurion pairs me with
Helene. My rage spills out of me, tainting every move. Helene, on the other
hand, channels her fury into a steely efficiency. She sends my mace flying,
and only a few minutes later, I’m forced to yield. Disgusted, she stalks
away to battle her next opponent while I’m still scrambling to my feet.
From the other side of the field, I see Marcus watching — not me but her,
his eyes gleaming, his fingers caressing a dagger.
Faris gives me a hand u p, and I call Dex and Tristas over, grimacing at
the bruises Helene’s gifted me. “Is Aquilla still avoiding you?”
Dex nods. “Like the pox.”
“Ke ep an eye on her anyway,” I say. “Even if she wants you to stay
away. Marcus knows she’s avoiding us. It’s only a matter of time before he
decides to attack.”
“You do know that she’ll kill us if she catches us playing guard dog,”
Faris says.
“Which do you prefer,” I say, “angry Helene or beaten Helene?”
Faris goes pale, but he and Dex vow to ke ep an eye on her, glari ng at
Marcus as they leave the field.
“Elias.” Tristas lingers, looking alarmingly awkward. “If you like, we
can discuss . . . uh . . . ” He scratches his tattoo. “Well, it’s just I’ve had
some ups and downs with Aelia. So with Helene, if you want to talk about
it . . . ”
Ah. Right. “Helene and I aren’t — we’re just friends.”
Tristas sighs. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”
“She’s — not — no — ” I can’t seem to make my mouth work, so I just
close it and look at him in mute appeal. Any second, he’s going to grin and
slap me on the back. He’s going to say, “Just kidding! Ha, Veturius, the look
on your face . . . ”
Any second.
“Trust me,” Tristas says. “I have four older sisters. And I’m the only one
of the guys who’s been in a relationship that’s lasted longer than a month. I
can see it every time she looks at you. She’s in love with you. She has been
for a while.”
“But she’s Helene,” I say stupidly. “I mean — come on, we’ve all thought
about Helene.” Tristas nods gamely. “But she doesn’t think of us. She’s
seen us at our worst.” I think of the Trial of Courage, of my sobs when I
realized that she was real and not a hallucination. “Why would she — ”
“Who knows, Elias,” Tristas says. “She can kill a man with a twist of her
hand, she’s a demon with a sword, and she can drink most of us under the
table. And because of all that, maybe we’ve forgotten that she’s a girl.”
“I have not forgotten that Helene’s a girl.”
“I’m not talking about physically. I’m talking about in her head. Girls
think about things like this differe ntly than we do. She’s in love with you.
And whatever happened between you two is because of it. I promise you.”
It’s not true, my head tells me with the zeal of denial. Just lust. Not love.
Shut it, head, my heart says. I know Helene like I know fighting, like I
know killing. I know the smell of her fear and the rawness of blood against
her skin. I know that she flares her nostrils very slightly when she lies and
that she puts her hands between her knees when she sle eps. I know the
beautiful parts. The ugly parts.
Her anger at me is from a de ep place. A dark place. A place she doesn’t
admit she has. The day I looked at her so thoughtlessly, I made her think
that maybe I had that place too. That maybe she wasn’t alone in that place.
“She’s my best friend,” I say to Tristas. “I can’t go down that road with
her.”
“No, you can’t.” There’s sympathy in Tristas’s eyes. He knows what she
means to me. “And that’s the problem.”