The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(95)

This time I didn’t close my eyes.

And so I saw when Aeddan leaped in front of Aquila, taking the second arrow that was meant for me square in his chest.

“Aeddan!” I cried and staggered to my feet, clutching a hand to my wounded shoulder.

He spun around in a grotesque dance, balanced on the edge of the rampart. Then slowly, gracefully, he toppled off the wall and hit the ground below. I ran, stumbling toward him, and dropped to my knees at his side.

He was breathing still, shallowly, and with each breath a fresh wash of blood spilled from his mouth.

“Fallon . . .” He lifted a hand to my face.

“Rest,” I shushed him, taking his hand in mine and holding it as tightly as I could.

“I’m . . . sorry . . .”

“Rest now . . .”

He nodded weakly and his mouth moved, forming a single word. A name. “Mael . . .”

“Greet your beloved brother for me, Aeddan,” I said, choking on the sob that clutched at my throat. “Tell Mael . . . tell him I miss him . . .”

My tears spilled onto his cheeks, mingling with his blood.

He managed another nod, and his hand clenched convulsively on mine.

“I’ll miss you too.” I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “And I will see you both one day again, in the Lands of the Blessed Dead. And we shall all be friends there.”

And then he was gone.

The crowd had gone utterly silent, soaking in my grief.

I stood, slowly, and turned my attention to Pontius Aquila. He had dropped the bow, sensing the mood of the crowd turning ugly against him. They were on our side now. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Someone from the stands lobbed a torch at his platform as my sister stepped up beside me. “Give me back my ludus, Pontius Aquila!” she shouted up at him, her words ringing through the air. “It belongs to me, and it belongs to these girls. They are not rebels, they are not renegades. They are heroes. And you are not welcome in our home.”

“Achillea! Achillea!” the crowd began to chant. And “Victrix! Victrix!”

Even if the mob did not fully comprehend the subtleties of what they’d witnessed there that night, they knew they’d had a roaring good time. And with me and Sorcha and our fellow fighters ensconced back at the academy, they were likely assured of many more like it.

The shouting grew to a roaring.

Aquila went even paler, and I saw him step back away from the edge of the rampart. Another torch flew tumbling toward the platform. And another. I was thankful the walls of the ludus were high and made of stone, else the crowd that had just cheered our winning back the place might well have burnt it to the ground.

Aquila’s guards had already hurried down the ladders to the ground, and I saw them rush to close the gates, while the Tribune and his vile Dis cronies scrambled to follow. Tanis fled with them. Some of the crowd from the arena stands charged the gates, pounding on them and demanding justice, but I just watched him go. They would scurry down to the beach, I knew, and take to their galley. I smiled to myself, thinking just what kind of reception they might find, once they got to Cleopatra’s side of the lake.

“I don’t think he will return,” Sorcha said quietly. “Here, or anywhere in the Republic where someone might recognize his face. We’ve won, little sister. You did it.”

With only one good arm, I wrapped Sorcha in the tightest embrace I could muster. “We did it.” I said. “Together. All of us.”

“AH-CHILLEA!” The shouting grew to a roaring. “AH-CHILLEA!”

Sorcha turned and, out of view of the crowd, rolled her eyes. I grinned at her, and together, we held hands and turned to face the crowd. When my glorious sister punched her fist into the air, the world erupted around us.

Wine and beer barrels appeared as if by magic, along with flutes and drums and lyres. There was singing and dancing and laughter, and I had a feeling that this was a party that would last until dawn. For the crowd at least.

My shoulder throbbed painfully, and I saw Neferet pushing through the crowd to get to me, her physician’s satchel slung across her torso. I turned and surveyed the field arena, strewn with a few scattered bodies. I didn’t yet know if any of them were ours. Or the Amazons’. But our adversaries had thrown their weapons to the ground in defeat, and as my friends came slowly forward, shoulders hunched in exhaustion but heads held high in victory, I realized that we really had won. We’d won the right to fight another day. On our own terms.

The walls of my home rose up at my back.

The Roman mob celebrated all around me.

My friends were there to keep me from falling to my knees.

And Cai, with his beautiful eyes full of love, and strength. Sadness too. But no regret. I took his hand and my warrior sisters crowded all around us, and I’d never felt more like I belonged. Elka was weeping openly, one arm wrapped around Ajani, the other around Quint. And he had an arm wrapped around Kallista, who grinned from ear to ear at having finally done something truly exciting. Charon had come down from the stands and stood at my sister’s side—not quite touching her, in the same way as she was not quite touching him. Night and stars and fire and song spun all around my head in a glad and glorious chaos of celebration. We were the eye of a whirlwind.

Tomorrow, we would bury the dead. We would throw open the Ludus Achillea gates. And we would carry on.