“You came back.” It was both a question and a statement.
He lifted hooded eyes to her before he nodded down the hall. “Preparation chamber. Before—”
Footsteps pounded on the stands, through the tunnels. At any moment, centurions would storm after them, following the orders of two no-doubt-furious gods.
Ash dragged Madoc for the closest room. She kicked the door shut and heaved her hip into the bolt to lock it. It would only buy them a little time.
This preparation chamber wasn’t for public use—it was opulent and pristine, worthy of a final war match. Ash had been vaguely aware of the gaudiness of her own that morning, the blue silk covering the walls, the padded chaise and table spread with food and drink.
This one looked just the same, only with heavy onyx silk accentedby white lace. Phosphorescent stones glowed in the walls, but for once Ash didn’t seethe with the lack of igneia—her body was awash with color and light from Madoc’s anathreia.
In the corner a cushioned pallet sat on a raised dais, and Ash eased him onto it before turning to the supplies spread on the table. She poured minted water from a pitcher into a ceramic bowl. There was a sponge too—she dipped it and turned back to find Madoc lying on the pallet, one arm thrown over his forehead, his eyes split open enough to watch her.
His attention immobilized her. Water dripped down her fingers, splashed on her feet, perfuming the air with the sharp, cool scent of mint.
“What happened?” she whispered.
Madoc’s arm slid off his forehead. “I tried to leave.” His voice wavered. He sat up, legs folded under him, looking down at his hands in his lap. “But I heard the crowds in the arena. People running past said that Geoxus’s champion hadn’t shown—and his attendant had taken the ring.” Madoc glanced up at her, unspeakable sadness in his eyes. “Elias blamed you for Cassia. Why?”
Ash tossed the sponge to the floor and dropped to sit at the end of the pallet. She gave Madoc a brief summation of what she had overheard in the arena’s tunnel after she’d left him at the temple, Petros admitting to Geoxus that he had killed Stavos. She told Madoc how she had looked for him, how Elias had looked for him too. And how they had decided to free Cassia—and that when Elias had been unable to find Madoc, they had all feared Petros had taken him.
“I was with Geoxus,” Madoc said quietly. He winced, rubbing the skin between his brows. When he spoke again, his voice was thin with tears. “I was trying to get him to free her.”
Ash twisted one leg between them on the silk blanket. Tears pricked her eyes as she grabbed his wrist. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have gone into Petros’s villa at all.”
Her words tumbled into themselves.
“Seneca was there,” she forced herself to say. The final missing piece. The mysterioussheStavos had mentioned. “She can control anathreia too. She took Cassia’s divinity.”
Madoc whipped a horrified look to her, bloodshot veins running through his eyes. “Seneca is Soul Divine?” He paused, gaping. “That’s how she knew so much about it.”
Or she’s something far worse.But Ash couldn’t say more without disintegrating.
A brittle sob racked her. “Everything’s so wrong,” she managed. “It’s too much. You shouldn’t have come back. You were right—you should’ve just run while you had the chance.”
“But then you’d be dead,” Madoc whispered.
Ash thanked the blur of tears in her eyes that she couldn’t see the look on his face. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.
“You should know,” Ash started, “that Cassia saved my life. She was so strong, and she fought so well. She died protecting me.”
Madoc gave a weak chuckle. “That sounds like her. She was our protector—kept us in line, at least. She always did what was right. If Petros had wanted Elias or me, she’d never have let us get taken in the first place.” He scrubbed the heel of his palm into his eye.
Ash’s heart cracked. “I’m so sorry.”
She was still touching his other wrist; she could feel his pulse beating under her fingertips. And when he twisted his hand to grab her arm, gripping her imploringly, Ash couldn’t breathe.
Madoc kept his head bent. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Ash jolted, relief trying to push its way through the heaviness of sorrow and the intensity of sitting here next to him. But she had carried guilt for so long in other forms—she didn’t know how to peel it off, even with his absolution.
She started to stand. “Thank you for saving me. We should—”
Madoc’s fingers tightened around her arm. They were callused on the tender skin of her wrists, and that touch kept her seated. “You didn’t fight back. Against Elias.”
“Of course not.”
“He would have killed you.” His eyes lifted to hers, intent, heavy. “I thought he had.”
