hide his murder, Madoc didn’t know.
He turned to find Ignitus standing behind the centurions, leaning against the side of a marble fountain. People from the party gathered in his wake, some Deiman, some Kulan, all straining to get a look at what had garnered so much attention.
With a sigh, Ignitus pushed off the fountain, the V-cut collar of his tunic dipping down to his waist, leaving his smooth chest bare to the belt. As he sauntered toward his brother and the body, the torches along the perimeter wall throbbed with light and heat.
Madoc glanced again to Ash and found her gaze had dropped sharply to the ground. She was afraid, and he didn’t blame her. Her god had killed one of his own gladiators.
Cringing, Ignitus motioned to the body at Geoxus’s feet. “It looks like one of your gladiators might be a bit ill. Is this the pox rumored to be going around?”
“You of all gods should know that it is dangerous to meddle in the rules of war, Ignitus.” Geoxus’s hands lowered, but as they did, the ground began to rumble, then quake, causing the fire god to stumble and catch himself just before falling. A scream from the crowd slapped off the walls as dozens of voices began talking at once. Sand shifted across the ground, stones from the path pushing out of place. The fountain Ignitus had been leaning against just moments before cracked, and the top half of the stone statue within fell into the water with a splash.
Madoc’s pulse stumbled, and he widened his stance in attempt to stay upright. Half the crowd held fast, watching the show, while others shoved past them in an attempt to flee to the palace.
Ash gripped Madoc’s arm to steady herself, her palm hot against his clammy skin.
“That was one of my most prized gladiators,” Geoxus growled as half the crowd continued to race for safer ground.
“Then for your sake, brother, I hope you have a backup.” Ignitus scowled at the ground, as if this would stop the earth from shaking.
Geoxus’s lips curled back. His hand twitched, but Ignitus spread his fingers, and every torch from the wall to the palace suddenly went black, the only glow emanating from the blue flames that warped around his long body.
“Yes,” the god of fire murmured as more screams erupted. “I can play these games too.”
Madoc could hear Ash breathing beside him. Her hand slid down his forearm, the sharp heat of her skin centering him.
“The lights, Ignitus,” growled Geoxus.
“Will you be nice?”
A beat passed. Ash gripped Madoc tighter, flooding warmth up his arm into his chest.
With one final groan from the perimeter wall, the ground stilled.
Light rose from darkness, revealing Ignitus, no longer wrapped in blue flames, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“I didn’t do this, nor did any of my people. We know how to dispose of a body.”
All that would be left was a smoldering pile of bones, Madoc realized grimly.
Ignitus’s bright eyes shifted across the stable yard, his gaze turning Madoc back to what remained of the crowd from the party—a few pale patrons, the other champions snarling at each other from either side of the broken fountain, and two elegantly clad figures who had shoved through to the front.
Lucius and Petros.
Madoc’s gut twisted.
He did not want to be seen here by his trainer—to give Lucius any reason to think he might have had something to do with this, or to question his position in the Honored Eight or the money he’d won by forfeit. Especially not after Petros had embarrassed him in front of Geoxus by claiming Madoc was his son.
“Why should I believe you?” Geoxus asked. “Stavos defeated your best champion in Kula. If anyone holds a grudge, it’s you.”
Beside Madoc, Ash stiffened. He remembered Stavos taunting Ash during their fight. Again, it occurred to him that she could have had something to do with his death. Ignitus might not be the only one holding a grudge.
“Even so,” said Ignitus, “I would not risk losing this war over the life of some Deiman with a knack for throwing pebbles.”
Geoxus flinched at Ignitus’s casual dismissal of his fallen hero.
Madoc’s gaze fell to Stavos—to his dead eyes and his bloated, pale-blue skin—and again felt the urge to clean the blood off himself.
Ignitus folded his hands gracefully behind his back, his sandaled feet barely making a sound as he circled Geoxus and the body. “If I were you, brother, I would question this man’s competition. Who stood to