“We’ll go to his house,” Elias muttered as he chipped through the clay along the jamb with his geoeia.
“And what? Ask nicely to get her back? You know what Petros will say.” With his foot Madoc cleared away the gravel that fell. “His house is a fortress, anyway. We’ll never get past the front gates.”
“Then we’ll wait until everyone’s gone to sleep. I’ll make stairs with the stones against the outer wall. We’ll climb over and find her.”
The throbbing at the base of Madoc’s skull increased, spurred now by Elias’s anxiety. Madoc wished he could shut it off—at least dull the sensitivity. Not for the first time, he wondered if something was wrong with him. As far as he knew, no one else could sense others the way he did. It had started when he was young—a flicker of anger or excitement that matched that of someone close by, a hunger in his belly when he saw Ilena hiding her tears. But each year it was getting a little stronger. Now their small house was too loud with everyone home, and big crowds like the market gave him headaches.
He blew out a stiff breath, trying to focus. “If we break in, Petros will come to the quarter, arrest Ilena and Danon, send Ava to the poorhouse, and ask for Geoxus’s blessing to run us all through with wooden spikes.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do then?” Elias threw back. “Let your father keep her?”
Madoc turned away. In all his years with the Metaxas, Elias had not once referred to Petros as Madoc’s father.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Elias groaned. “I can’t stand it, all right? I can’t sit here and do nothing.” He sent another burst of geoeia against the door, and finally the blockade shuddered, chunks of stone falling free. Madoc dropped his shoulder and rammed through, the wood splintering as it exploded into the courtyard.
The sun was setting, painting the horizon bloodred.
Your father. Your responsibility.
They needed to get Cassia back—Petros had her in shackles. But how?
There had to be a way. There was always a way.
He crouched, one hand pressed to the earth. What do I do? The Father God would guide him. He’d always come through for Madoc.
“We can’t hurt Petros.” Madoc rose as Elias joined him in the empty courtyard. “He’s Divine. He’s surrounded by guards.”
“Oh, and he’s a senator, appointed by Geoxus,” Elias added, patting the dust off his arms.
“The only option is to pay off her indenture.” Which meant they needed money. Fast. And more than they could get at the quarry.
They needed to fight. They needed to win.
Madoc’s arms dropped to his sides as an idea flickered inside him.
Elias raked a hand through his hair. “Are we thinking the same thing?”
“I doubt it,” said Madoc.
“We rob the temple offering box,” Elias exclaimed, just as Madoc said, “We become gladiators.”
“What?” Elias frowned. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all.”
Madoc lowered his voice. “Lucius Pompino’s trainer saw me fight at South Gate last night. He wants me to train. We could sign up, earn the money we need, and free Cassia.”
“Hold on—you got invited to train at Headless Hill?” Elias checked the volume of his voice, stepping closer. No one was outside, but that didn’t mean they weren’t watching and listening. “Sorry. I forgot to mention that Geoxus himself stopped me in the market the other day. He told me I could have all the olives I wanted. And that he likes me much better than you. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it would hurt your feelings.”
“Great. Then you can ask the Father God to release Cassia.”
Getting physically close to Geoxus was impossible. He was a god, surrounded by advisers and guards and half the legion wherever he went. But if Lucius really wanted to make Madoc a gladiator, he might be able to earn the money they needed to set Cassia free.
Of course, there was a good chance Lucius’s trainer would laugh him away for declining his initial offer, but Madoc couldn’t think of that now.
“I would,” Elias said. “But I wouldn’t want to steal your glory.” He frowned, then turned his eyes west, toward the Glykeria District, where Lucius Pompino’s training facility sat atop Headless Hill. “You really think this could work?”
Madoc blew out a tense breath. “We’ve beaten Petros’s best. Even just training, we’d make a hundred gold coins a week.” And stay alive. He’d seen fighters who’d trained with the sponsor around the city. Some of them had been wounded badly enough that they couldn’t continue at Headless Hill.
He’d worry about that later.
“You’re sure Lucius would let me stay with you?” Elias asked. “I don’t mean to piss on your delusions of grandeur, but you’re not exactly moving mountains on your own.”
He was right. Madoc wouldn’t have won a match without Elias using his power from afar.
“Lucius’s gladiators each have a servant to help them prepare before a fight,” Madoc said. “If anyone asks, you’re the only one I trust.”
Elias must have been nervous, because he didn’t object to being called a servant.
“Mother’s going to kill us,” he said instead.
“If the other gladiators don’t first.”
Elias nodded. He glanced back at the house. “Danon!” he shouted. When his brother’s head appeared in the hollowed door, he said, “Tell Mother we’re going to get Cassia back.”
Danon’s eyes widened.
They didn’t wait for a response. As quickly as they’d come, Madoc and Elias departed, racing out into the alley, to the streets that would lead to Headless Hill.
Four
Ash
WHEN ASH WAS younger, Char would steal her away from her tutors early. Leaving behind lessons on mathematics and letters, they would race down to the dock market in Igna, Kula’s capital. Food shortages had not yet become dire, and there were still vendors who sold luxuries like flaky pastries and cloud-soft cakes and—Ash and Char’s favorite—cacao.
One time, Char bought a paper sack filled with mango slices dipped in dark, creamy chocolate, and they played their favorite game while they ate.
“You could be a glassblower,” Char said, pointing at another vendor. “That’s what you can use your igneia for. You can create beads that will make Kula beautiful.”
“Or a baker!” Ash pointed syrup-sticky fingers at a booth, her belly full of richness. “I’ll use fire to turn dough into bread and cake.”
Char smiled. “It’s so easy to forget that there are wondrous things about fire energy.” Her smile faded. “It’s important to look for the beauty in igneia, Ash.”
These special moments always came after Char had had difficult training sessions or brutal arena matches. She wanted Ash to see beyond Ignitus’s future. She wanted Ash to want more.
And Ash did want more. She wanted her mother to smile. She wanted Tor to laugh. She wanted to not feel so alone.
When she danced, sometimes she got those things. But they never lasted, and she feared the moment when Kula would cease being beautiful forever.