“Enough of these games.” Madoc moved close enough that those who passed couldn’t hear. “I have a thousand gold coins for Cassia’s indenture. It’s yours if you give her back.”
“Madoc,” Cassia hissed, but Petros silenced her with a raised hand.
“Quiet,” he reminded her. “Or we’ll have to use the shackles again, won’t we?” When she dropped her chin, he smiled at Madoc. “I believe our price was fifteen hundred gold coins.”
Madoc mirrored Petros’s confidence, hiding the hate searing through him. “I thought the price went down when you lied to Geoxus about my impressive geoeia. I could expose you at any time, Father.”
“You could try. But the truth comes with a heavy cost.” Petros laid a hand on Madoc’s shoulder, bringing an involuntary flinch. A pocket of memories broke free—Petros’s fist against his jaw, the whip against his back. Power waits inside you. If you won’t set it free, I will.
Madoc faltered. His only leverage was the truth, and that would condemn them all.
“Let her go,” Madoc said, forcing his shoulders back. He wasn’t a child anymore. He didn’t have to answer to his father. He didn’t have to bend to his demands.
Around them, patrons headed for the palace, observing the damage done by the gods. Centurions were standing by, gladiators from both sides close. Too many people. Too much power.
Petros’s brows lifted, a strange light in his gaze. “Come now, Madoc. Is that all you’ve got?” Behind him, Cassia leaned closer, her brows drawn as she strained to listen.
Madoc’s thoughts shifted to the guards who had taken Ash, to the way they had bent to his wishes with only a simple request. If he could do that now, he could end this. Get Cassia back. Then, once she was safe, he could make a pitiful showing in the arena to get himself out of this war, and humiliate his father in the process.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Trying to remember what he’d said to the guards to make them leave Ash alone, but all he could remember was her fighting.
Her pain, sliding over his skin.
The rush in his blood when he’d taken it away.
The crowd around them seemed to slip away as a cool breath filled his lungs. A quiet rustle filled his ears, a whisper of wind from far off.
“Let her go,” Madoc said again.
Petros’s brows lifted, though his gaze grew unfocused. “That’s a good idea,” he said quietly. “I could let her go. . . .”
Madoc was reeling. This strange power was working; Petros never would bend otherwise. Ash was right. Madoc was different. Not Earth Divine like his father, but something else.
More like his mother, maybe. Petros had always said she was pigstock, too, but he was a liar. Madoc could be like her.
“Now,” Madoc said. “Tonight.”
“Tonight . . . ,” Petros began, but just as he opened his mouth to say more, Cassia jerked behind him, drawing Madoc’s gaze to the soldiers who heaved Stavos’s body off the ground and lifted him to their shoulders.
The breath in Madoc’s lungs deflated.
Petros blinked.
Panic shot through Madoc as whatever connection they’d formed severed. He tried again to concentrate, to draw his father’s attention, but Petros was staring at him with new clarity, amusement rounding his cheeks.
“No, tonight won’t do,” Petros said. “What am I saying? We have too much work to accomplish before then.”
“We can do whatever you like after you let Cassia go.” Madoc’s gaze flicked to two centurions now watching them.
“That’s no way to do business, son,” said Petros. “When you have what someone wants, you can’t give it away.”
Madoc felt whatever hope he’d grasped moments ago slipping through his fingers. The strange power he’d sought to use was gone now. He could no more control Petros’s mind than move the rocks beneath their feet.
His father tilted his head toward the palace, and they began to walk, Cassia a few steps behind. “I need an heir, Madoc. I’ve built an empire in this city, and I need someone worthy to leave it to.”
Madoc wondered if it was too much to hope that Petros was dying. “You want me to take over your legacy.” That wasn’t possible. Petros would never give it up so easily.
“Of course not,” said his father. “But it’s what you want, isn’t it? To get out of the stonemasons’ quarter? To have a home with servants to attend to your every need? Power. It’s what everyone wants.”
Madoc wanted Cassia. That was all he would ever want from Petros.