had earned Lucius five hundred gold coins and Madoc a break from his sponsor’s irritation.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Elias said. “This is a job, nothing more. Keep your eyes on the prize: as soon as we have the money we need for Cassia, we get out. Or you’re either going to end up in the finals or with an arrow in your back like Stavos.”
Madoc hushed him. They couldn’t be talking about that here. Too many people suspected Madoc’s involvement, and they didn’t know who was listening.
He tried to brush off Elias’s words, but they clung to his skin. It didn’t matter if he didn’t want the attention. He couldn’t slow down or give in. Each day his father’s promise carved a wider divide between him and Elias, but as much as Madoc wanted to, he couldn’t tell his brother what Petros had threatened.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” he said, avoiding the truth. “Lucius already despises me because of Petros’s games and Stavos’s death. I need him on our side to get the money for Cassia.”
“We need him, you mean,” Elias muttered.
Madoc could feel his brother’s desperation, a cloak of lightning, clinging to every jerky movement. He felt the sudden urge to touch Elias’s shoulder. To calm him, the way he’d calmed Ash after Ignitus had killed her opponent.
For a moment, the urge stole every bit of his concentration.
His strange perceptions were getting stronger. He’d been convinced after what had happened with Ash in the hallway that they had some kind of connection, that he was more aware of her emotions because of her igneia, or even because of the way she commanded his focus. But it wasn’t just her. He was becoming more aware of everyone—Elias, the other gladiators, even Lucius, who’d worked him twice as hard since Stavos had been found dead.
Something was changing, or maybe he was losing his mind. It didn’t matter if worries about it felt like a closing fist around his throat—he couldn’t deal with it now.
“We need to go to Petros,” said Elias. “Give him the thousand coins and tell him we’ll make good on the rest.”
Madoc blinked, steadying himself. “We can’t go back to Petros.”
Elias’s chin shot up. “Why not?”
Because I tried talking to him and it didn’t work. Because if I don’t do what he says and win this war, he’s going to kill you and the rest of the family.
“Because he’ll report us to Geoxus for cheating—you know that.”
Elias kicked at the ground. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with those crowds cheering your name?”
Madoc’s hands fisted. How could Elias think this was about glory? It was about survival. If Madoc told Elias that the Metaxas’ lives depended on Madoc winning this war, Elias would do something stupid, give Petros an excuse to react.
Madoc refused to have his family’s blood on his hands.
Outside, the crowd had begun to chant for Jann. He must have just been announced.
“It’s time,” Madoc said.
Elias crossed his arms. “Well. Don’t die.”
Madoc flinched. Elias’s narrow gaze turned toward the bright afternoon sky beyond the window. I’m sorry, Madoc wanted to tell him, but the words were locked behind his chattering teeth.
This was no time for nerves. No time for weakness.
He had to defeat Jann to advance. To save Cassia, and Elias, and everyone he loved.
Madoc took his place at the mouth of the arena, just as Arkos had told him to. Jann, his breastplate glowing gold, was already standing by his rack of weapons on the far end of the sand oval. The grand arena might be vast, but Jann was close enough for Madoc to see his brows lift in amusement.
“Madoc of Crixion!” the announcer called.
Madoc’s throat knotted.
“I mean it,” said Elias, just behind him in the shadows. “Don’t die.”
Madoc nodded and then stepped onto the sand. Heart galloping, he raised his right hand. The audience, seated on steep steps two stories high, screamed in delight. Sweat dripped down his brow, and the breath he swallowed tasted of fish.
Beat Jann.
Madoc spotted Lucius and Arkos in a box in the center of the stands—no doubt ready to tear apart his performance. They moved down the row as two figures slid in beside them.
Petros, in a fine white toga, and Cassia.
His blood surged at the sight of her. Petros had brought her here to taunt him. To remind him of what he could lose if he failed in today’s match.
Her gaze met his across the arena, and all he could think of