An Ember in the Ashes(108)

“I—I’m not sure what you—”
“Did you think you could fool me? Did you think I didn’t know?”
Oh skies. It can’t be.
“I have spies too, slave. Among the Mariners, the Tribesmen.” Now she’s inches away, and her smile is like a thin garrote around my throat. “Even in the Resistance. You’d be surprised where I have eyes. Those Scholar rats know only what I want them to know. What were they up to the last time you met them? Were they planning something significant? Something involving a great many men? Perhaps you’re wondering what it was. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Her hand is around my neck before I can think to dodge her. I kick out, and she tightens her grip. The muscles of her arms bulge, but her eyes are as flat and dead as ever.
“Do you know what I do to spies?”
“I—not—don’t—” I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“I teach them a lesson. Them and anyone in league with them. Kitchen-Girl, for instance.” No, not Izzi, not Izzi. Just as spots begin exploding at the edge of my vision, a knock comes at the door. She releases me, letting me fall to the floor in a heap. Casually, as if she hadn’t just nearly murdered a slave, she opens the door.
“Commandant.” An Augur waits outside—a woman this time—small and ethereal. I expect to see legionnaires behind her like before, but she is alone.
“I’m here for the girl.”
“You can’t have her,” the Commandant says. “She is a criminal and—”
“I’m here for the girl.” The Augur’s face hardens, and she and the Commandant lock eyes, a silent and fierce battle of wills. “Give her to me and come. We are needed in the amphitheater.”
“She’s a spy—”
“And she will be appropriately punished.” The Augur turns to me, and I can’t look away from her. For an instant, I see myself in the dark pool of her eyes—my heart stopped, my face lifeless. As if the knowledge has been planted in my head, I realize that the Augur is taking me to the Reaper, that my death is close—closer than during the raid, closer than when Marcus beat me.
“Don’t give me to her,” I find myself begging the Commandant. “Please, don’t—”
The Augur doesn’t let me finish. “Do not set your will against the Augurs, Keris Veturia. You will fail. You can come willingly to the amphitheater, or I can compel you. Which shall it be?”
The Commandant hesitates, and the Augur waits like a rock in a river, patient, unmovable. Finally, the Commandant nods and sweeps out the door.
For the second time in a day, I’m gagged and bound. Then the Augur follows in the Commandant’s wake, dragging me after.
XLIV: Elias
“I’ll go quietly,” I say as the soldiers restrain and blindfold Helene and me.
“But get your damned hands off me.” In response, one of them shoves a gag in my mouth and takes my scims.
The legionnaires haul us up the cliffs and through the school. Bootsteps shuffle and thump around me, Centurions shout orders, and I hear amphitheater and Fourth Trial. My whole body tenses. I don’t want to go back to the place where I killed my friends. I never want to set foot there again.
Cain is a pocket of silence ahead of me. Is he reading me right now? Is he reading Helene? Doesn’t matter. I try to forget him, to think as I would if he wasn’t here.
Loyalty to break the soul. The words are too close to what Laia said. You have a soul. Don’t let them take it from you. That, I sense, is exactly what the Augurs will try to do. So I draw that line Laia spoke of, a deep runnel in the earth of my mind. I won’t cross it. No matter the cost. I won’t.
I feel Helene beside me, fear radiating off her, chilling the air around us and setting my nerves on edge.

“Elias.” The legionnaires didn’t gag her, probably because she had the sense not to be mouthy. “Listen to me. Whatever the Augurs ask you to do, you must do it, understand? Whoever wins this Trial is Emperor—the Augurs said there would be no tie. Be strong, Elias. If you don’t win this, everything is lost.”
There is an urgency to her that unsettles me, a warning in her words beyond the obvious. I wait for her to say something else, but either she’s been gagged or Cain has silenced her. Moments later, hundreds of voices reverberate around me, filling me crown to toe. We’ve reached the amphitheater.
The legionnaires pull me up a set of steps before forcing me to my knees.
Helene comes down beside me, and the bindings, blindfolds, and gag come off.
“I see they muzzled you, bastard. Pity they didn’t make it permanent.”
Marcus, kneeling on the other side of Helene, glares at me, hatred spilling from every pore. His body is bunched, a snake ready to strike. He wears no weapon save a dagger at his belt. All his gravitas from the Third Trial has morphed into a poisonous vitriol. Zak always seemed like the weaker twin, but at least he tried to check the Snake. Without his pale-haired brother at his back, Marcus seems almost feral.
I ignore him and attempt to steel myself for whatever is coming next. The legionnaires have left us on a raised dais behind Cain, who stares fixedly at the amphitheater’s entrance as if awaiting something. A dozen other Augurs are arrayed around the dais, tattered shadows who darken the stadium with their very presence. I count them again—thirteen, including Cain. Which means one is missing.
The rest of the amphitheater is packed. I spot the governor, the rest of the city councilors. Grandfather sits a few rows behind the Commandant’s pavilion with a group of his personal guard, his eyes on me.