The Valiant (The Valiant #1)(82)

I wasn’t sure where that was anymore. I wasn’t sure of anything.

“How do you two even know each other?” I asked.

“Kass has been a friend to me since she was sold to this place,” Cai said.

Oh, I thought. Of course. A friend. I felt my cheeks redden.

She laughed, shaking her head. “What he means is that this place entertains its fair share of politicians and patricians. So I occasionally find myself in possession of information that could prove useful to a certain consul of the Republic. I’m really Caesar’s friend, if you want to think of it that way.” She put a hand on my arm. “But I trust the Decurion. And you should too.”

Cai reached out and took my other arm. “We should go now. We have to get you back to the Achillea town house.”

“Why?” I asked. “So they can flog the skin from my bones? I didn’t have leave to go to those revels. None of us did. Sorch—I mean, the Lanista—is going to be furious,” I said. “I’ll be very surprised if she doesn’t just send me packing back to the ludus to muck out horse stalls until I’m too old to throw a spear.”

“Us?” Cai asked.

“I went with a few of the other girls. It was Nyx’s idea.” Thinking back on the beginning of the evening—which was substantially clearer in my memory than the rest—I realized I hadn’t actually seen Nyx drink from the wineskin. Or Lydia, for that matter. Only Elka and me. “She’s the one who put mandrake in my wine.”

“What?” He backed off a step, frowning. “She drugged you? Tell me what happened.”

I did—at least I tried to—in halting, disjointed phrases, piecing together the events of the night leading up to the brutal entertainment and the death of the gladiator. Then I drifted into silence, drawing a hazy blank on what had happened next.

“Why would one of your sisters from the ludus do such a thing?” Kassandra asked.

“Because Nyx wants Fallon off her game.” Cai looked at me. “You’re her only direct competition for Caesar’s Victory in the Triumphs.”

I barked a laugh. “Then she’s gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. Achillea told me yesterday that she’s withdrawing me from consideration.”

“What?” Cai was dubious. “Why would she do that? You’re the best she has.”

“She’s overreacting,” I said. “Someone’s been trying to frighten me. Nothing more than harmless pranks, but Achillea thinks they’re real threats.”

“What kind of pranks?”

“Trashing my room and ruining my things, leaving bloody feathers on my pillow. Yesterday there was a raven—”

Suddenly the brain-numbing fog vanished, as if blown away on a stiff breeze. The protection it had offered me from the horrific memories of that night vanished with it. The image of the raven statue in the foyer of the Domus Corvinus bloomed like a black flower in my mind, its wings spread wide, its cruel beak open in a frozen shriek. I remembered the silver feather in the dish of the scale. The dead gladiator on the altar in the catacombs . . .

“Fallon!” Cai reached out as I swayed on my feet.

“What is it?” Kassandra asked. “What’s wrong?”

The words came rushing out, breathless and frantic, as I told them about Aeddan and his fight with the gladiator Ajax. How he told me he’d been trying to find me ever since that night back home. I told them about running, hiding . . . and finding the vaulted underground chamber. My voice grated as I described the robed men in the masks with the scales.

His heart . . .

I closed my eyes and came to a gasping halt. I could almost hear the sounds of them eating his heart, and the bile rose in my throat.

Cai and Kassandra exchanged a glance, and Cai looked as if he thought I was still dosed.

“Did you see anything like that?” he asked Kassandra. “A gladiator fight or . . . or the rest?”

She shook her head. “My hostess sisters and I were restricted to one of the courtyard salons while we were there. And they never keep us long at these parties—we cost too much—just until everyone is drunk enough not to notice our departure.”

“And are you absolutely sure of what you saw in that chamber, Fallon?” Cai asked. “It was dark, and you weren’t in your right mind.”

“You don’t believe me. Neither of you.”

Kassandra shook her head. “No! No . . . it’s just—”

“Ridiculous? Outlandish?” My voice climbed hysterically upward. “The idea that there were a bunch of madmen eating a dead man’s flesh? Is that so much more of a stretch to believe when the evening’s entertainment was watching two men fight to the death? Is this what kind of city Rome is? The so-called beating heart of the civilized world? Ajax’s heart wasn’t beating anymore, I assure you!” I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“I understand.” Cai put up his hands and shared another glance with Kassandra. “Do you know whose house it was?”

Again Kassandra shook her head. “They never told me.”

“It was called Corvinus,” I said. “Domus Corvinus.”

Cai winced and squeezed his eyes shut. “Pontius Aquila.”

I nodded, even as I felt the blood drain from my face. Aeddan hadn’t lied, and Sorcha had been right. I was being hunted by the Collector.