At the sound of the scream, I roll out from under Helene and onto my
feet, the kiss forgotten. She falls unceremoniously to her back.
The scream echoes again, and I snatch up my scim. A second later, she
grabs hers and follows me into the hallway. Outside, the belltower tolls
eleven.
A blonde slave - girl is running toward us: Izzi.
“Help!” she shouts. “Please — Marcus is — he’s — ”
I’m already running up the darkened corridor, Izzi and Helene behind
me. We don’t have to go far. As we turn a corner, we find Marcus hunched
atop a prone form, his face stretched into a savage leer. I can’t see who it is,
but it’s obvious what he’s planning to do.
He’s not expecting company, which is why we’re able to get him off the
slave so quickly. I tackle him and rain down punches, growling in
satisfaction at the snap of bone beneath my fist, reveling in the blood that
sprays across the wall. As his head whips back, I stand and draw my scim,
resting the point on his rib cage between the plates of his armor.
Marcus scrambles to his f eet, his arms in the air. “Are you going to kill
me, Veturius?” he asks, still grinning despite the blood dripping down his
face. “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, Mar cus,” 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
smolderi ng. “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 darke n 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
prop erty. 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 thr ough 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.
Helene 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 sl ept 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, sh e’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 sl ept
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
s uffer 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.
What can you do? a pragmatic voice asks. If you try to help, the
Commandant will only punish you both, and that will kill the girl for sure.
“You can heal her.” I realize it suddenly, stunned that I didn’t think of it
before. “The way you healed me.”
“No.” Helene walks away from me, her entire body suddenly stiff.
“Absolutely not.”
I chase after her. “You can,” I insist. “Just wait half an hour. The
Commandant will never know. Get into Laia’s room and — ”
“I won’t do it.”
“Please, Helene.”
“What’s it to you, anyway?” Helene says. “Do you — are the two of you
— ”
“Forget that. Do it for me. I don’t want her to die, all right? Help her. I
know you can.”
“No you don’t. I don’t even know if I can. What happened with you after
the Trial of Cunning was — bizarre — freakish. I’d never done it before. And
it took something out of me. Not my strength exactly but . . . forget it. I’m
not going to try it again. Not ever.”
“She’ll die if you don’t.”
“She’s a slave, Elias. Slaves die all the time.”
I back away from her. All evil here. Monsters . . . “This is wrong,
Helene.”
“Marcus has killed before — ”
“Not just the girl. This.” I look around. “All of this.”
The walls of Blackcliff rise around us like impassive sentinels. There is
no sound other than the rhythmic clink of armor as the legionnaires patrol
the ramparts. The silence of the place, its brooding oppression, makes me
want to scream. “This school. The students that come out of it. The things
we do. It’s all wrong.”
“You’re tired. You’re angry. Elias, you need rest. The Trials — ” She tries
to put her hand on my shoulder, but I shake her off, sick at her touch.
“Damn the Trials,” I say to her. “Damn Blackcliff. And damn you too.”
Then I turn my back on her and head to watch.