The Triumphant (The Valiant #3)(36)

I moved to stand in front of his door, the ring of iron keys hanging loosely from my fingertips. He looked at me and flashed what I’m sure he thought was a persuasive smile. In the cell next to him, I saw Acheron, the gladiator who had—unlike Yoreth—fought at Cai’s side. He stood there, leaning against his door with his arms crossed over his chest, relaxed but watchful, and he nodded when I looked at him, but said nothing. I glanced back and forth between the two men for a moment and then plucked up the key from the ring that fit into the cell door locks.

“That’s a good lass,” Yoreth said, his grin broadening. He pulled his arm back through the bars. “Your father would be proud . . .”

“My father,” I said. “Whose royal war band you were a part of.”

He nodded vigorously.

He’d said he remembered me. That he remembered the night I disappeared from Durovernum. There had been a feast that night. Chiefs and their warriors from the Four Tribes gathered to celebrate their alliances . . . But there had been men from other tribes as well at that feast. Men of Gaul, men of the west, men of the north . . . even Coritani men, sent there to foster peace between our tribes that never lasted more than a day past the feasting. Yoreth was from the Island of the Mighty. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

I unlocked Acheron’s door and turned away to rejoin my waiting friends.

“Princess!” Yoreth called, a frantic note to his voice.

I paused and looked at him over my shoulder. “Fallon,” I said. “My name is Fallon ferch Virico, and you would know that if you knew me. I don’t know you.”

“I swear—”

“My father’s war band has numbered half a hundred men and women of our tribe, give or take, ever since I was a child and my sister Sorcha led those warriors into battle against the Romans,” I said in a low, dangerous hiss. “I might not have known all their names, but I knew their faces. They were Cantii. My tribe. My family.”

I dropped the key ring to the dirt floor, well out of reach of Yoreth’s grasp.

“And I know a Coritani tattoo when I see one.”





X


BACK OUT IN the main—decidedly deserted—courtyard of the ludus, the day was still overcast. The sky a dull, mournful gray, and the air strangely muffled. We crossed to the small door set in the stone wall beside the larger gates. Quint tugged back the slide-bar lock and opened it just far enough so that he could stick his head out.

“What’s going on?” Cai asked.

Quint ducked back inside. “Not a thing,” he said. “It’s quiet as a necropolis out there. Every window and door shut up tight.”

“It won’t stay like that for long,” Cai said.

“No,” Quint agreed. “It won’t. I give it until dusk. Then? Rome is going to burn.”

“We need to go. Now.” I glanced over my shoulder and was a little surprised to see that Acheron was still with us.

“I’d like to join you, Victrix,” he said. Then he nodded at Cai. “If you and Varro here don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to—”

He put up a hand to stop me. “I’m in your debt.”

“No. You’re not.” I shook my head. “You stood by Cai in the arena. You don’t owe us anything beyond that. And staying with us could . . .”

“Could present certain, uh, difficulties,” Cai finished for me. “Dangers.”

Acheron grinned. “All the more reason then,” he said. “Not like I have anywhere pressing to be, after all. And you’ll maybe need another sword, yeah, to help with those difficulties? Speaking of which . . .”

He jogged over to a weapons shed and, after a few moments, jogged back with a pair of serviceable gladii—one of which he handed to Cai. Cai nodded thanks and shoved it through the plain leather belt he wore.

I hadn’t thought to equip myself that day, but, as usual, Elka was thinking for us both. She pulled not one but two long daggers from sheaths concealed behind her back, under her cloak, and handed one to me. I gave her a small smile of thanks. Then, together, we stepped out into the deserted street. In the distance, I heard men shouting and the faint wail of women’s voices, but it all sounded miles away. Cai and Acheron took point, walking ahead of me and Elka, with Quint bringing up the rear.

“Walk quickly,” Cai said. “But don’t run. Heads up, eyes everywhere, blades at the ready.”

After two uneventful blocks, he waved for us to hang back while he and Acheron went to scout a few streets ahead of us. In the brief lull, Elka turned to me, her gaze flickering with wary curiosity.

“Back in the ludus,” she said. “With that gladiator . . .”

When she trailed off, I waited. Then: “What about it?”

She shrugged. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so . . .”

“Vindictive?” I asked.

“Ja. I guess that’s the word.” She looked at me sideways, as if trying to fit a new piece of glass into a mosaic. One that didn’t really seem to fit. “Do your folk really hate his folk that much?”

“Truthfully?” I shook my head. “Meriel was Coritani.”

“She saved your life,” Elka said. “All our lives, probably.”