we have many more beds for little thieves these days,” Tyber said, his eyes glinting with a humor that took Madoc by surprise. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you and your friend sneaking around the temple at night.”
“You’re up awfully late, old priest.” Heat climbed over Madoc’s jaw. He hadn’t considered that Tyber would have caught him and Elias. When they’d earned the fighting money, Madoc had wanted only that the coin Petros had wrongfully taken be returned to those who needed it. The only credit Madoc had dreamed of accepting was the fury on Petros’s face when he’d discovered what his son had done.
That hadn’t worked out as Madoc had hoped.
“There is more work to be done than there are hours in a day.” Tyber straightened his back with a soft groan. “Besides. Someone needs to set free any children our hungry offering box grabs in the middle of the night.”
Madoc snorted, but Tyber’s words pulled at him. The priests would never be able to help everyone in this city. Not while Petros and people like him terrorized families like Jann’s and Raclin’s, and could break apart the Metaxas out of spite.
“Well,” said Madoc, “I hope you have even more beds soon.” He pulled open his cloak and untied the heavy purse from his hip. Carefully, he handed it to Tyber, who gaped at the gift.
“Madoc,” he whispered. “This is . . .”
Madoc waved a hand. “I don’t need it.” Whatever lightness he had felt with Ash was slipping away. The coins were a reminder of Cassia, and the failed plan he’d made to save her. At least now he knew this money would help someone.
Ash was staring at him, respect lifting her chin. It brought on a new wave of uncertainty. This coin would feed a few hungry mouths, that was all. It wasn’t as if he was taking down a god to save his people like she was.
“Thank you.” Tyber shook his head in wonder, clutching the purse against his chest. “When his people are in need, Geoxus provides.”
“If Geoxus provided, his people wouldn’t be in need,” Ash said.
When Tyber’s brows lifted, Madoc coughed into his fist. “She’s a skeptic.”
But he couldn’t help thinking she had a point.
“The Father God’s strength flows through his children,” Tyber said. “Their works are his works.”
It made Madoc think of Stavos, and the arrows in his back. After what Petros had told him at the palace, Madoc was sure his father had had something to do with the murder, and yet Petros was a child of Geoxus. If strength came from Geoxus, where did deception come from?
Tyber patted Madoc’s arm. “He will bless you all the way to victory, I’m sure of it.”
Madoc glanced to Ash, who gave a tight smile.
“I’ll see you soon, then,” Madoc said.
“Champion!” All three spun to the steps that led to the market, and the crowd that had gathered. The children Madoc had seen playing earlier were among those gathered, their eyes wide with wonder.
“Madoc!” called a woman standing with a basket in her arms near the statue. “Is it really you?”
Shoved forward by her friends, she moved closer, frowning as she tried to decipher the face beneath Ash’s hood. Wordlessly, Tyber went to usher the woman away.
“I should leave,” Ash said quietly. “It’s not wise for us to be seen together.”
She was right, though he regretted it all the same. If two champions from opposite sides were seen talking, it could be construed as plotting.
“We could both go,” he said.
A flicker of amusement crossed her face, bringing a lightness in his chest. “Where would we go?”
“Anywhere.” He didn’t care as long as it meant a few more minutes with her. But a shadow crossed her face, and her back rounded.
She stepped nearer, and his skin warmed at their closeness. “I’m sorry for what was said earlier. You have your own people to fight for. We shouldn’t have dragged you into our trouble.”
He wanted to tell her not to be sorry—that anything someone loved that much deserved defending—but how could he say that when he was here, and Cassia was still locked away?
“I understand why you tried,” he said, then added, “Corn Cake.”
She smirked. “Goodbye for now, Madoc.”
He watched her go, stealing past the centurion on the steps with her hood pulled low. Her absence was as broad a force as her presence had been. The air was cool now, and smelled like olives and baked bread and too many people from the street gawking at