father turned to him before they reentered the palace, resting a hand as deadly as Stavos’s hammer on Madoc’s shoulder.
“Win this war, and the Metaxa girl is yours to do with what you will. I’ll name you my heir. You’ll have whatever you like.”
It hit him with the force of a punch. Win this war. Petros said this like it was easy. Like it didn’t involve defeating two experienced Deiman champions, and then facing—killing—a Kulan gladiator, equally deadly if not deadlier, in an arena in front of thousands of people.
His mind flashed to Ash—would he be matched against her?
“If I can’t?” Madoc could barely choke out the words. He didn’t look back at Stavos. He didn’t have to—the dead man’s blood was still smeared on his hands and clothes.
Petros stepped closer.
“I’ll sand Cassia’s slender hands to the bones. And then I’ll find her brother, Elias, yes? And Danon. And little Ava. I won’t touch their mouthy little mother. I’ll let her wait, alone, for you to tell her how you couldn’t save her family. How you let them die, one by one.”
Madoc couldn’t move. Too late, he remembered his determination to regain the upper hand over his father. He thought of the soldiers in the hall outside the lesser arena, but it seemed impossible now that he had persuaded them to leave, or pulled any of Ash’s pain from her body. Whatever strange power had afflicted him was gone. He was weak. A shell. Nothing.
“Why are you doing this?” he breathed. “Why now? Why me?”
But Madoc already knew. His only value to Petros was in his victory—the esteem the house of Aurelius would boast with Madoc’s name. Now that Petros knew he was a fighter, he expected him to win, and Petros would ensure that victory by holding the only things Madoc loved beneath the point of a knife.
“We have a deal,” Petros said. No other answer was necessary.
With a hearty pat on the back, he left Madoc outside the entrance of the palace.
Cassia closed in on him instantly.
“What was that about?” she demanded.
“I . . .”
Elias darted out of the crowd entering the palace. “Did that Kulan kill Stavos?” he whispered, loud enough for the line of guards behind them to hear.
“Quiet,” Madoc cautioned. “No. We found him with three arrows in his back.” He focused on Cassia, his gaze dipping again to the hidden bruise on her shoulder. “Are you all right? What has Petros done?”
Cassia dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “What did you say to him?” Her tension combined with Elias’s, prickling over Madoc’s skin. “You threatened him. You scared him, didn’t you? That’s why he looked like he might keel over.”
Madoc opened his mouth, but the words stayed trapped in his throat. Petros’s threat was still ringing in his ears. Win this war, and the Metaxa girl is yours.
If he couldn’t win, the entire family would die.
“What did you say? Did you tell him we’d pay him what we have?” Elias asked.
“I didn’t, I mean, I did . . .” I’ll sand Cassia’s slender hands to the bones. He pressed his thumbs to his temples. He couldn’t tell them what had happened. Not now—here, in this palace surrounded by guards who reported to Geoxus. If questioned by the Father God, Petros would surely refute him. Geoxus had already made it clear where he placed his trust. If Madoc went to the god of earth for help, he’d have to admit that he was Undivine, and what would Geoxus do then?
He needed to think.
“We should go inside,” he said. “We look suspicious standing out here.”
“You looked suspicious sneaking off with a Kulan gladiator,” Elias countered. He jabbed Madoc’s shoulder. “What’s going on? What aren’t you saying?”
Petros will kill you if I don’t win this war.
Panic and hate gripped his throat. He knew what would happen if he told Elias. His brother would want them to run, and he wouldn’t be wrong. But centurions would hunt them. Petros’s guards would come for Ilena, and Danon, and Ava.
“It was nothing,” Madoc said. “Petros drank too much, that’s all. Half this party already thinks I had something to do with Stavos’s death; let’s not give them reason to question me more.”
“You’re lying,” Cassia said, pursing her lips. “If you think I don’t know it, you’re a bigger fool than you look in that costume.”
He pulled anxiously at his armor. He had to give her something. “Ash wants—”
“Ash?” Elias balked. “So we’re on a first-name basis now?”