Fallen City by Adrienne Young - 39

Three seconds. That was how long it had taken to lose everything.

I could still feel the pounding of my heart. See the blur of the light. Hear Maris screaming my name in the Forum. But it was all nothing to the memory of Rhea Vitrasian dying in my arms.

I don’t remember lifting my gaze or taking the sword from the legionnaire’s belt. I don’t remember getting to my feet or driving the blade into his chest. The first memory I had after looking down into Rhea’s face was standing over those young soldiers’ bodies as blood dripped from my fingertips. Then I was hitting the floor as two more took me to the ground.

Now there was only quiet.

The soft drip of water somewhere deep in the dark catacombs fell in a steady rhythm that mimicked the beat of my heart. It was cold and damp, but I couldn’t feel it. The air didn’t stir as the torchlight flickered. There were no voices, no footsteps. The legionnaires outside my cell were silent and I didn’t have to see their faces to know that they pitied me.

At first light, the tribunal bells would ring. And the Magistrates would end my life to pay for the two I’d taken. They’d be wiped clean of it then—what they did to Rhea. And after everything, she’d be remembered as a traitor.

The loud groan of a door echoed through the catacombs and I let my eyes drift to the glow of light in the distance. There were shadows moving, the sound of boots hitting the stone, and as soon as the figure came around the corner, my hands found the slick iron bars.

Vale.

He walked straight toward the cell as I got to my feet, the amber light finding his face in flashes. He was wearing his legionnaire’s armor, his helmet tucked under one arm, and the two soldiers standing guard outside straightened when they saw him.

“Leave us.” Vale stopped in front of the cell, eyes locked on mine.

The legionnaires didn’t question the order from the Consul’s son, and the silence fell heavy once they were gone. Vale stared at me, the tension in his face visible even in the dark.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he said lowly.

I set my forehead against the bars, swallowing. “I wasn’t.”

“This is bad, Luca. There isn’t a single one among the Magistrates who won’t take the opportunity to cast you as an accomplice to Vitrasian.”

“I know.”

I’d known it the moment I felt the heat of the legionnaires’ blood on my hands.

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose before running one hand over his head. He was looking at me again, as if trying to decide something.

“What is it?”

“You’ve done more than offend my father, Luca.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Vale glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “Word about what happened at the tribunal has made it to the Lower City. They’re calling you a savior. Saying that what you did was an act of the gods.”

Slowly, the words sank in, making me feel colder.

His eyes lifted above my head, and for a fraction of a second, I saw the glow of the mark light his face. I had only ever heard of the gifts that the gods gave mortals. I’d never believed in them. I’d certainly never seen them for myself. They were the kind of sacred acts that happened in the time of the Old War.

“There’s talk of rebellion,” he whispered. “And not just across the river. In the legion, too.”

My hands slipped from the bars and I stepped backward into the dark.

“Someone’s painted your likeness across the river. An image of you kneeling with blood on your blade.”

Pain woke in my jaw as I clenched my teeth. “What are you saying?”

He reached into his tunic, handing something through the bars. I took it, tilting it toward the light until I saw the reflection. It was a knife.

“The Priestesses in the Illyrium opened their own veins, Luca. Two of them died. Something bigger is happening here than you and Casperia’s daughter, or even what they did to Vitrasian. And I’m not sure you’re ready to understand your part in it.”

I stared at the blade, my blood running cold.

“You have until nightfall to come to terms with it,” he said.

I didn’t have to know the details of what he was saying to comprehend it. There was a storm coming. One I’d woken.

Vale reached through the bars and I took his arm, tightening my grip as I met his eyes.

“Don’t do anything for me that can’t be undone, Vale,” I said.

He let me go. “You’re my brother, Luca. I already have.”

Movement behind him drew my eye and the soft sound of footsteps surfaced from the resonant hum of the catacombs. I saw the red of her stola first, like a twisting flame in the shadows.

Maris stepped into the light, the image of her like a ghost. The thin silk rippled around her in the cold breeze that blew through the tunnels, and it picked up her hair, pulling it beneath her chin, across her face.

Vale moved past her, giving me one last look before he disappeared. This was his doing. A chance to say goodbye.

Emotion curled tightly in my throat as she moved toward me, and when her hands came through the bars, I reached for her. Her arms wrapped around me, making me feel so heavy that I could hardly stand. I pressed her palm to my face, desperate to feel her touch, and she kissed my temple through the bars.

The smell of jasmine filled my lungs, washing away the stench of blood, and I wept as her fingers moved up my back, holding me to her. Only days ago I’d kissed her, telling her that I would marry her. The next time the sun fell, I was taking her name in the temple. But it all felt so meaningless now, the idea that anything could change.

“I’m going to fix this,” she whispered. “My mother can fix this.”

But the words were hollow and empty. She couldn’t believe that. She couldn’t possibly think that there was any way out of this that didn’t involve a lot more blood.

“When they burn my body,” I said, hand running over her hair, “don’t let them do it in the temple.”

She stilled under my touch. “Luca…”

“Promise me.” I pulled back to look at her. “Don’t let them do it in the temple. And don’t tell them you married me.” Now she was trying to pull free from my hold on her, but I only tightened my grip. “I’m serious, Maris. No one can know.”

She was crying now, and I pulled her back into me. She knew it like I did. Deep down, she knew this was the last time she would see me. Touch me. Hold me.

“Don’t come to the tribunal,” I said. “I don’t want you there.”

She clung to me as I drew the knife from my belt. I took one of the long thin braids behind her ear and I pressed the edge of the blade against it until it was free.

Maris watched as I tied it off, winding it around my wrist, and when she looked at me again, her swollen eyes shone with tears.

“It’s time to go.” Vale’s voice surfaced in the dark behind her as he stepped back into the light.

Maris’ hold on me tightened and I kissed her, letting my hands run through her hair, down her back. My fingers followed up her arms until I could take hold of her wrists and I pushed her from me as she cried. When she wouldn’t let go, I met Vale’s eyes over her shoulder. He stepped forward, pulling her away. And the last time I saw my wife, she was being swallowed by the dark, the sound of her cries trapped like a storm inside me.