An Ember in the Ashes (Ember Quartet #1)(38)

I stifle a snort. Of course the Augurs agreed. They know this place is hell, and they’ll want the Trials to be as difficult as possible.

“I have ordered the Centurions to intensify your training to reflect your status as Aspirants. I have no say in your conduct during the competition. However, outside the Trials, you are still subject to my rules. My punishments.” She begins to pace her office, and her eyes stab into me, warning of whippings and worse.

“If you win a Trial, you will receive a token from the Augurs—a prize, of sorts. If you pass a Trial but do not win, your reward is your life. If you fail a Trial, you will be executed.” She lets that pleasant fact sink in for a moment before going on.

“The Aspirant who wins two Trials first will be named victor. Whoever comes in second, with one win, will be named Blood Shrike. The others will die. There will be no tie. The Augurs wish me to stress that while the Trials are taking place, the accepted rules of sportsmanship apply. You will not engage in cheating, sabotage, or chicanery.”

I glance at Marcus. Telling him not to cheat is like telling him not to breathe.

“What about Emperor Taius?” Marcus says. “The Blood Shrike? The Black Guard? Gens Taia isn’t just going to disappear.”

“Taius will retaliate.” The Commandant passes behind me, and my neck prickles unpleasantly. “He has left Antium with his gens and is heading south to disrupt the Trials. But the Augurs shared another foretelling: Waiting vines circle and strangle the oak. The way is made clear, just before the end.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus asks.

“It means that the Emperor’s actions are not our concern. As for the Blood Shrike and Black Guard, their loyalty lies with the Empire—not Taius. They will be the first to pledge themselves to the new dynasty.”

“When do the Trials begin?” Helene asks.

“They may commence at any time.” My mother finally sits and steeples her fingers, her expression remote. “And they may take any form. From the moment you leave this office, you must be prepared.”

“If they can take any form,” Zak speaks up for the first time, “then how are we supposed to prepare? How will we know they’ve begun?”

“You’ll know,” the Commandant says.

“But—”

“You’ll know.” She stares directly at Zak, and he falls silent. “Any other questions?” The Commandant doesn’t wait for a response. “Dismissed.”

We salute and file out. Not wanting to turn my back on the Snake and the Toad, I let them go ahead of me but immediately regret it. The slave-girl stands in the shadows near the stairs, and as Marcus passes her, he reaches out and yanks her close. She writhes in his grasp, trying to break his iron grip on her throat. He leans down and murmurs something to her. I reach for my scim, but Helene grabs my arm.

“Commandant,” she warns me. Behind us, my mother watches from her study door, arms crossed. “It’s her slave,” Helene whispers. “You’d be a fool to interfere.”

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” I turn to the Commandant, keeping my voice low.

“She’s a slave,” the Commandant says, as if that explains everything. “She’s to receive ten lashes for her incompetence. If you’re intent on helping her, perhaps you wish to take on her punishment?”

“Of course not, Commandant.” Helene digs her nails into my arm and speaks for me, knowing that I’m on the verge of earning myself a whipping. She nudges me down the hall. “Leave it,” she says. “It’s not worth it.”

She doesn’t need to explain. The Empire doesn’t chance the loyalty of its Masks. The Black Guard will be all over me if they hear I’ve taken a whipping for a Scholar drudge.

Ahead of me, Marcus laughs and releases the girl, then follows Zak down the stairs. The girl gulps down air, bruises blooming on her neck.

Help her, Elias. But I can’t. Hel is right. The risk of punishment is too great.

Helene strides down the hall, giving me a pointed look. Move.

The girl pulls her feet back as we pass, trying to make herself small. Disgusted with myself, I spare her no more attention than I would a heap of trash. I feel heartless as I leave her there to face Mother’s punishment. I feel like a Mask.

???

That night, my dreams are travels, filled with hisses and whispers. Wind circles my head like a vulture, and I flinch from hands burning with unnatural heat. I try to wake as discomfort turns into nightmare, but I only slip deeper in, until eventually there is nothing but choking, burning light.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is the hard, sandy ground beneath me. The second is that the ground is hot. Skin-shriveling hot.

My hand shakes as I shield my eyes from the sun and scan the wasted landscape around me. A lone, gnarled Jack tree rises from the cracked land a few feet away. Miles to the west, a vast body of water lays shimmering like a mirage. The air reeks something horrible, a combination of carrion, rotting eggs, and Cadets’ quarters in high summer. The land is so pale and desolate that I might be standing on a distant, dead moon.

My muscles ache, as if I’ve been lying in the same position for hours. The pain tells me that this is no dream. I stagger to my feet, a lonely silhouette in a vast emptiness.

The Trials, it seems, have begun.