We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 31

N o. Gods no.

Dodging past a group of novices, I slam into a guardant, who curses, shoving me off him. I bounce off the wall and hurtle around the corner. The corridor between the ludus and the arena yawns open in front of me.

Just stay alive, Maeva. Please, just stay alive.

The roar of the crowd reaches me before I even hit the stairs, the screams of elation freezing my blood. Joy from the emperor’s favored subjects means someone is suffering.

I trip on the first stair, and catch myself with my hands. Pushing up, I lift my knees higher, my wrist screaming in protest.

Exultant shouts pound into my ears, and I dash up the last few stairs, swallowing a sob. Please be alive. Please.

Three enforcers stand in front of the gate, blocking my way.

I’m past the first enforcer in an instant. The second enforcer opens his arms wide in an attempt to block me, and I dodge left and then right.

The crowd gasps at something in the arena, and I hear a feminine voice cry out in pain.

Alive. She’s alive.

My hand finds the hilt of my sword and a sound leaves my throat. A sound I don’t recognize.

The last enforcer holds up his arms, his sigil flaring. I duck, and within a moment, I’m through the gate.

Time slows to a crawl as I sweep my gaze over the wide expanse of sand. I’m surrounded on all sides, the seats above me packed with the emperor’s favored. They blur together into a red-faced, open-mouthed mass, their screams a dull drone in my ears.

To my left, Maeva stumbles, her head dripping blood. Her glazed eyes are wide, her pupils blown as she frowns at her sword, studying the blade like she’s never seen it before.

Drugged. They’ve drugged her.

Heat floods my veins, and my vision flares white. The force of my rage is so overwhelming, it locks every muscle in my body.

Poison is against the emperor’s rules, but Maeva will be dead before anyone can prove Baldric and Hester were responsible.

Unless I kill Baldric first.

My muscles loosen, and I step farther into the arena.

The color drains from Maeva’s face. You’re not allowed in here , she mouths.

The screams of the crowd fade into a low whine. And suddenly, it’s no longer Maeva who is standing in front of me.

It’s Kassia.

Kassia who’s giving me that shaky, apologetic smile, her eyes filled with the knowledge of her death.

Kassia’s eyes turning blank, lifeless.

Kassia who’s gone, when it should have been me.

“Well, this is interesting.”

I yank myself from the past, and Baldric’s gaze meets mine, his eyes ablaze with triumph.

The arena goes silent.

From here, I have a perfect view of the emperor seated in his imperial box. The purple silks have been replaced by crimson, the long banners hanging from the pulvinar like bloodied rags.

Vallius lounges in his padded chair, a cup in one hand. He’s deep in discussion with Sigilkeeper Darius Melus. On his left, the emperor’s mistress gulps at her own cup, casting a disdainful glance at us.

Sweat drips down my back, my face slick with it. I blink the sting from my eyes as the emperor pauses his conversation.

I can’t read his expression from here. But he waves his hand dismissively, giving his permission for the fight to continue as he turns back to the sigilkeeper.

Saliva floods my mouth, dread coiling in my stomach. I back toward Maeva, positioning myself in front of her and slightly to the right. She leans down and retches.

“Just stay there,” I mutter. Hopefully she can hear me.

Brown eyes meet mine, slowly turning blank. All the things we were meant to do. The lives we were meant to live.

Gone.

“Die!” Baldric roars.

I turn, and a blade whistles past my head, inches from slicing into my face.

He barrels toward me, teeth bared, and I hit the ground, barely dodging his blow. Shoving my hand into the sand, I push up, staggering to my feet.

Baldric is on me instantly, and I barely block his next swing.

Metal clashes against metal in a high-pitched clang. The force of the blow travels through my hands, rattling my bones and jarring my joints. My grip tightens instinctively around the hilt of my sword, the muscles in my forearm straining. My wrist bears most of the impact, bending slightly with the blow. A sharp pain shoots up my arm.

My blood drums in my ears. Pressure builds beneath my ribs.

Baldric is faster. Stronger. In better condition.

I clamp my teeth together and lunge to the side, evading his next blow.

Fine. I’ll just have to fight smarter.

Baldric plays to the crowd, a wide grin lighting up his face as several women scream for him.

But he’s slowly moving closer to Maeva, his steps small as he attempts to disguise his goal.

Launching myself across the arena, I position myself in front of her once more. “Stay back,” I snap.

She mutters something before vomiting again. Hopefully, her body is purging the poison.

Baldric’s eyes meet mine, hard and cold despite the sickening grin stretching across his face.

“Let’s finish this, voidborn,” he calls, and then he’s on me.

Slash, slash, slash.

Dodge, parry, block. My muscles shriek at me. My lungs constrict as I gulp for air.

Baldric was holding back when I watched him train. I had no idea just how fast he was.

He slices to my right and I dodge left.

Right into his backhand.

My face explodes in agony, the impact dropping me to the ground. Copper fills my mouth and I choke, the edges of my vision turning dark.

Get up. Get up or die.

I force my eyes open. When did they close? Above my head, the stars glitter like jewels, alluring and mysterious.

Wait.

There are no stars. The tiled roof above the arena is pulled closed.

I roll.

Baldric’s blade hits the ground next to me, and my stomach spirals. Clawing at the sand, I stumble to my feet. Pain radiates through my head, the arena rotating sickly around me.

Tears flood my eyes at the movement and Baldric’s laugh echoes in my ears. “That’s it. Cry for me.”

My vision sharpens. Baldric is already gazing past me to Maeva. I force my knees to straighten.

He charges at Maeva, and I lunge, cutting him off.

Gods, my head hurts.

Baldric’s sword slashes in a wide arc, and I duck, driving my own sword toward his unprotected side. He lurches back, barely keeping his balance.

The crowd laughs, and color rises to his cheeks, his lips pulling back in a snarl.

I need that rage to make him sloppy.

But Baldric strikes fast, each movement flawless.

I dance back. He follows, slashing in the same pattern once more. One. Two. Three. Thrust.

Good. I can work with a pattern.

The sand shifts beneath my feet, churned and softened from everyone who has fought and died here today. My face feels as if a spike has been driven into my jaw, straight through my brain.

I meet Baldric’s next strike, studying him as our blades clang together. His crooked nose wrinkles in an almost-wince.

My senses heighten further. Something about that movement hurt him.

Dodge, slice, parry. For the first time, I’m using my own sword in the arena. And it feels natural, like an extension of my arm.

I meet Baldric’s blade again, the impact reverberating through my entire body. If my blade snaps, I’ll be down to my throwing knives.

There. The slightest grimace when he slashed down. He’s hurt—his shoulder or perhaps his upper back.

Slice, slice, slice.

Darting to the side, I switch my blade to my left hand to block his thrust.

And slam my right fist into his ear.

The crowd roars. But I still hear the breath wheeze from Baldric as he sways.

His eyes are just a little glazed now. I hurt him. And the blow impacted his balance.

But, gods, I’m tired. My jaw aches, my head throbs. I know what my blurred vision means. I’m at least a little concussed.

If I don’t finish this soon, I’m dead.

And if I’m dead …

Wait. What—

My heart stops and then kicks in my chest.

Maeva’s moving in my peripheral vision, her body a blur. I keep my gaze firmly on Baldric’s face.

He fakes a lunge at me, forcing me to stumble back. His next smile is grim. “You never should have come here, voidborn. You’re going to die today.”

Maeva’s still making her way around the outside of the arena, her movement slow but purposeful. She’s trying to pin him between us.

I just have to keep him distracted.

I swing my sword loosely in my hand. Baldric’s gaze drops, and he sneers.

But he’s watching me, his huge chest expanding as he sucks in air. He’s tired too.

I slice my blade in a wide horizontal arc. His sword meets mine, but I’m already moving, reversing the strike. He curses, dodges, and parries with his own blade. The blow makes me stagger, and he keeps coming, forcing me to dodge each swing and thrust.

But he’s distracted now, the light of victory glittering in his eyes.

The crowd gasps.

Panic pushes my heart into my throat. They’ve just warned Baldric.

His eyes widen in realization. He attempts to turn, but it’s too late.

Maeva thrusts her sword into his back. His mouth falls open, but no noise comes out. His eyes dim, turning blank. She’s pierced his heart. Instant death.

I swing my own sword, slicing through his neck.

Blood sprays, and Baldric’s head slips free.

Twin thumps sound as his head and body hit the ground.

Silence.

Maeva’s eyes meet mine, and when she smiles, her teeth are stained red. She’s been vomiting blood. Not a good sign.

And then the first screams sound. Screams of jubilation.

My mouth fills with the taste of something sour. We must have put on a good show.

Maeva sways on her feet, so I sling her arm over my shoulders.

“You came for me,” she murmurs.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, but she’s still trembling, her eyes glassy.

“You need a healer.”

“A good fight.” The emperor’s voice booms over the arena, and the crowd goes quiet.

Maeva slowly pulls away, bowing her head. I do the same.

“However,” Vallius continues, gazing down at me, and the arena turns silent once more. “You broke a rule. A very important rule.”

Footsteps rush toward me and hands encircle my wrists. I tense, but a hard boot slams into the backs of my knees.

I hit the ground. Just a few rows from the emperor, Maeva’s father stares down at us, his face bone white.

He’s powerful enough that he could have stopped this. He must have noticed his daughter was drugged. But he didn’t say a word. And he’s not saying a word now.

Our eyes meet, and I let him see my disgust.

“There must be consequences,” the emperor says.

A ball of dread forms in my gut, and my mouth turns watery. The emperor smiles, and Tiernon enters the pulvinar. He’s wearing his helmet, but I don’t need to see his eyes to see his fear for me. It’s clear in the clenched fist at his side, his strange, still posture, and the way his body is angled forward.

He wants to save me. But there’s no saving me from this.

“What do you have to say for yourself, novice?” There’s no hiding the delight in the emperor’s voice. He wants me dead, and now he gets to ensure it happens without the people turning on him.

“Maeva was drugged, Dominus,” I croak out. Someone has used their power, because my voice echoes back to me.

Murmurs sound. “That’s cheating,” a woman calls from low in the stands, and if I could kiss her, I would.

“Silence,” Vallius hisses, his voice echoing through the arena.

It’s too late. He can’t kill me now. Not until he proves I’m lying. Next to me, Maeva’s eyes are wide, no longer glassy, but she’s swaying on her knees.

“A healer will examine the first novice,” the emperor declares. A guard stalks across the arena and lifts Maeva to her feet, hauling her away. “If you are lying, you will die.”

I’m not lying. But I wouldn’t put it past the emperor to make the healers say I am. Tiernon gives me the tiniest nod. He’ll make sure one of his imperiums visit the healers.

A shadow moves behind him, winding through the pulvinar.

Rorrik.

“Entering the arena is still forbidden,” the emperor says.

Someone boos, the sound immediately cut off. Moments later, a scream shatters the silence. I close my eyes.

“What shall I do with a novice who refuses to obey the rules?”

I force my eyes open, meeting the emperor’s gaze. Rorrik leans close, whispering in his father’s ear.

“Yes.” The emperor smiles. “I believe I’ll do that.”