The senators move swiftly in the aftermath of the assault. I am gathered up into the maelstrom of activity by Contessa, who looks at me like I have become a venomous serpent. We follow Delilah as the powerful woman shouts orders to her guards.

I worry that it is too late for me to escape. My Corda have betrayed me. The senators know my secret, and they will turn me over to the Censors in order to live. I may only have moments of freedom left. I turn to ask Contessa a question, but the lanista silences me firmly.

“Wait for the dominus,” she orders, leading me into the main house. I am so overwhelmed with fear that I barely take in the opulence that I am dragged through. This is only a country estate for the senator, but it is packed with riches like I have never seen.

Every room is lit by a dozen lumos relics organized into ornate chandeliers made of gold. They sparkle as if the souls that carried them in life are smiling down on us. Thick rugs cover the marble floors, and magnificent works of art hang from the walls.

I am distracted from my terror by a portrait of Julia, one of the lesser-remembered Iron Lords. Hers is smaller than the one that decorates the library in Varus’s compound but of a similar quality. The woman’s long blond hair sweeps over her shoulders, which are left bare by the white armor she wears. It looks like a forerunner to the tellus of the modern-day Censors. I know little about the woman who supposedly slew Venus before joining Titus and the rest of the band in their ascent to Mons Olympus, but she has the same name as my mother. A pang of sadness echoes in my chest. I miss her.

I glance over my shoulder to look for Pliny, but the short magister is not with us. I have not seen him since before the Shadowbound attacked. Was I too slow to save him? I do not remember. Alessandra floats in our wake, her eyes wide. We make eye contact, and she smiles softly, a weak, strained thing.

I wonder if it is the first time she’s seen someone die this close, or if it is the first time that someone has tried to kill her. That thought hits me harder than I would expect. I do not know her well, but she was kind to me in a place where few others were.

I would not wish the burdens of a violent life on her for all the world, but I see its claws digging at her, cutting away little pieces of her innocence. It’s like seeing a beautiful vase crack after being dropped. She’s not shattered, but it’s clear that she will never be the same. I return her smile, equally as small as her own. I have my own fears.

I will never fight in the arena. I will likely not even survive the night. If I do, it will only be so that the Censors can take me to their looming tower to slice into me as they study how I have become this monster. Unrelenting Fire roils inside of me, feeding my fear.

I shake my head in disgust, realizing that I never let go of my new Symbol after the fighting was done. I banish it now, making space to embrace Iron, letting its hard-edged logic sweep over me. Immediately, I feel more composed. I still carry a bloody gladius in my right hand. Why would they let me keep my weapon if they were going to kill me? Some of the tension in my shoulder fades, reassured by my reasoning.

Delilah leads us into yet another beautiful room; I have lost count of how many we have walked through. A smokeless fire roars in the center of the room, perfectly curated by an ignis relic. Wide windows gaze out into the darkness of her estate, but the senator gestures, and they darken, turning as opaque as stone. My jaw drops open at the sight. I have never even heard of a…speculum relic? Is that even the right word for it? I cannot even begin to fathom what one of them must have cost.

The senator strides toward a large golden couch and turns to glare at the three of us instead of sitting. Her attention is heavy and electric, much like Varus’s own keen gaze. I shiver under it but keep my mouth shut. My ears pop as the room seals its air away, preventing anyone from hearing what is said outside of the bubble that we are in.

“What has that man dragged me into?” Delilah wonders aloud, not taking her eyes off me. They travel down my exposed arms, tracing fire over my mismatched veins. She twitches as she notices the sword still in my grasp, but she does not complain.

“Nothing to say?” She arches an eyebrow at us as the silence stretches. “If Varus can’t be bothered to attend to me⁠—”

“I’m here, Delilah,” my master interrupts as he strides into the room. He is no longer dressed in a toga but a pair of combat leathers that match the ones I wear. Pliny floats in his wake. I smile in relief to see my favorite Gold is still alive. The old magister’s eyes light up with interest as he spots my new Copper veins.

“Well, clearly, I missed the dress code to this gathering,” Delilah murmurs, at last sinking down to sit on her ornate couch. “Now if you would be so good as to tell me why you have seen fit to ensure my death warrant is signed at the same time as yours by bringing this abominatio?”

I wince at her new word choice for me—abomination. I think I liked being an immundus better.

My fist tightens around the hilt of my sword, but I realize that any attempt at resistance was doomed from the start. I am oathbound to not harm Varus or Alessandra. They don’t need to wonder if they can trust me—I am leashed.

“We will see if he is truly an abomination,” Varus promises her, looking at me for the first time. “But I swear to you that I did not know. Castor has had some… irregularities with his Cor, but he has been confirmed by the Censors.”

“Confirmed by the Censors,” Delilah repeats, mimicking his voice in angry retort. “Look at the man, Vary.” My eyebrow twitches at the nickname. Anas might have been right about her intent after all. “He’s got cuprum and argentum veins at the same time!”

“Pliny, if you would?” Varus gestures at me, and the short magister scurries toward me like a released hunting hound. I tense as he approaches, but he gives me a reassuring wink. Contessa watches from Varus’s side, her expression strained.

Goosebumps flare on my arms as I feel a hint of Pliny’s animus’s presence sweep over me, studying my new veins. I feel my heart skip a beat as he begins his inspection. I have worried before about how much his attunement to Cor tells him about me. Iron and Ancient Frost are both cold and unwelcoming. Perhaps they were easy to confuse. But how will Unrelenting Fire ever blend in with them?

“As I said,” Varus continues, looking back to Delilah, “there have been oddities with his Cor before. Pliny will be able to tell us what has happened.”

“Oddities? What do you mean oddities?”

“You speak of his veins. Look closer! He is an immundus, yet he channels an Elder Symbol with more power than any other Silver I have ever seen.”

“Elder Symbol?” My skin prickles as Delilah’s attention whips back to me. “Gladiator, what is your attunement?”

“Ancient Frost,” Varus answers for me, giving me a warning look. I take his meaning clearly. He will handle the other senator. I am distracted by the presence of Pliny, who circles me now, peering at my arms like a jeweler. He even sniffs me once or twice, like there is something about my Cor to smell.

“Aquilo’s Bones! He’s running around with that Symbol, and the Censors let him compete?” Delilah’s face is somehow paler than it was before. “No wonder they sent assassins to kill you, and you led them in a bright caravan to my home. Do not lie to me, Vary. I cannot bear it.”

“Delilah, I swear this to you by the grave of Pelias himself. Consul Briannus himself commanded that he be allowed to compete.”

“Briannus, that serpent,” she hisses in understanding. “He saw an ocean of denarii and forced their hand.” A shrewd look crosses her face as she turns to look at Varus once more. “And what was he doing at an inspection of your gladiator?”

“I invited my old student to come for an afternoon tea,” Pliny muses, still studying me closely.

“It’s a miracle they haven’t killed you yet, Magister,” Delilah remarks dryly. “But none of this addresses the fact that your gladiator, Castor, was it? Has attuned a second Symbol. You know as well as I that not even both of the consuls could protect us from the Censors’ wrath if they find out.”

“He may not have,” Pliny continues in the same dreamy tone. His eyes are crossed as he traces the path of one of my new Copper veins like a thread. Only my firm grip on Iron keeps me from shaking.

“Pliny, I have eyes.”

“Forgive me, Domina, but his case is a special one.” The magister pauses his inspection to turn to face the irritated senator. “Castor gained his Cor during an accident. Instead of receiving one, he was given multiple. His first one bound to Ancient Frost, as we know, but the rest remained inert. That incident was what led to his eventual entrance into the Games.”

“But you cannot have two Hearts,” Delilah protests, massaging her temples with her fingers. “I may not be a magister, but they taught that to even us in the collegium.” My pulse races, ignoring Iron’s stoic presence. They are too close to the truth. I will be discovered. The White Hand will come for me. I am not ready to face Atticus, not yet.

Pliny rubs at his chin as he considers his next words. “It is true that all known attempts to bind someone to two Hearts have failed. I have studied his condition closely, and I believe that the key lies in the fact that he was exposed to unprepared Cor instead of ones ready to be placed into another electus.” Behind me, Alessandra lets out a short gasp of surprise, as if that meant something to her.

“When the Censors collect the fresh Cor that falls from the sky, it is taken to their halls and purified. Then it is kept in stasis until a portion of it is separated and prepared for a new host. The amount is carefully tailored to the size and weight of the new electus, and they go through several stages of preparation before they place it into the new subject. This is done to reduce the number of failures and immundi, but it also means that the rasa is not a true blank slate.”

“I am not following. Is anyone following him?” Delilah looks around the room for help, her irritation rising once more. Varus shoots me another warning look, but he need not have worried. I am just as confused as the good senator.

“He’s talking about the way that mythi are created,” Alessandra says from over my shoulder.

“Good!” the magister says with a nod for his student before resuming his intense study of me. “If you could take it from here, please…”

“Uh…” Alessandra’s voice breaks as her godmother’s intense stare turns to her. I turn also, fascinated by the chance to have an answer to the mystery. Even if I am killed in the next few moments, at least I might finally understand what the gods did to me.

“A mythos like a stonehound or airhorse that occurs in the wild does not have a Cor that goes through any of these refinements. It is in a true rasa state when it enters the creature. Over time, it bonds with them and changes them. If Castor was given a bunch of true rasa at the same time…”

“Then it is possible that he is merely beginning to activate the other chambers of his Heart to expand his capabilities,” Pliny resumes, stepping back and clapping his hands together with a wide smile. I’m shocked by his delight. I thought we were friends. To see his excitement at announcing my death hurts me deeply.

“That is all that has happened here. He does not have a new Symbol. It is merely that Castor’s latent Hearts are beginning to merge with his existing one, as his body internalizes them in an organic process. The new one is not as strong as the other, since it has not benefitted from his training. But with proper balance, it should be a simple matter to Ascend it to Silver before he advances further to Gold. It is my opinion that there is nothing that the Censors could take issue with—merely a boy with a larger than normal Heart.”

I am stunned. A cold wave of fear sweeps over me as the short magister pulls back from me, smiling gently. There is not a trace of guile on Pliny’s face, and yet I am terrified. Is it possible that a Gold attuned to Cor itself is so wrong? Is he really so limited in what he can see?

“How long did it take you to Ascend from Copper to Silver the first time?” Varus asks me, looking thoughtful, but unsurprised by what his magister says.

“Uh,” I say, frowning, trying to figure out how to answer that question. I know that my answer will shock them, but there is no point in lying. I suspect that it will only happen again. Better to have them prepared for the future now. “A few months?” I wince as everyone in the room reacts with a visible twitch. There are so many lies within lies that my head is beginning to spin trying to balance all of them.

Perhaps I am like one of the mythi, slowly absorbing my rogue Hearts until they acclimate to my body. Maybe the Censors would find no fault with that. Dead Jupiter knows that they’d be more likely to leave me alone if the rest of my white veins vanished.

But I am not only bound to one Symbol. My new Hearts are not merely expanding my essence reserves and my ability to control Ancient Frost. Pliny told me that my mind would be torn asunder by the weight of two Symbols. My father warned me against the pressure of one.

I am bound to three.

“You Ascended from Copper to Silver in a few months?” Delilah demands, looking at Pliny for confirmation. Varus eyes me shrewdly, measuring me as ever. I wonder how they would react if I told them my inhibitus first activated only a matter of weeks after I was first bound.

“It has only been a little over a year since his Sententia, Domina,” the magister responds with a shrug.

Delilah murmurs something dark under her breath before giving me another look. “So it is not him.”

“It is not,” my master tells her grimly. I am confused, looking between the two senators, trying to understand why the tension has only grown in the room.

“Dead gods and their bleached bones,” Delilah swears, leaning back on her couch in dramatic fashion. “I was really hoping your strange gladiator was the reason, Varus.”

“Which leaves only one reason that Shadowbound might be sent to kill us all.” Suddenly, I understand why Delilah hoped the sicarii were here to murder me. If one of the palatine families had knowingly kept someone with multiple Hearts, the Censors would not hesitate to wipe out the entire bloodline. But if I am—at least not visibly—an abominatio, then it was not me that the shadowy assassins came to kill.

“She knows.” Delilah leaps to her feet, pacing the length of the room like a caged tigris. Her golden hair trails behind her as she scowls in anger and fear. Abruptly, she realizes that I am still here, and her expression sours further.

“Do send out your fancy gladiator, Varus. We have serious things to discuss.”

“You need not fear to speak before him. He is oathbound to me and my House.”

“Oathbound?” The other senator gasps in scandalized horror as she turns to study me once more. “So you’re afraid of him too.” Varus grunts but does not disagree.

“When Diana puts us all on crosses, he can hang on the one next to yours, then.” My eyes go round as saucers as she names the Empress. Why is the Empress sending sicarii to kill two senators? I am no enemy to the throne. There is no treason in my bones.

Some of her servants are my enemy, but to me, they are removed from Diana. Atticus, Tyrus, Brennus, and the rest are a part of the corruption that festers on the glory of the Empire like rust. Killing them is not a rebellion against her, but part of my duty as a citizen.

“You saved many lives tonight, Castor,” the older man says somberly, looking into my eyes with his dark gaze. “Not only did you save mine, but that of my daughter, who is priceless to me. I may be your dominus, but I am in your debt. If you have a desire, speak it, and if it is in my power to give it to you, it is yours. I swear it by my Cor.” The hairs on my arms rise once more, electrified by his words. I know better than most that to make a promise like that is no small thing. For a moment, I debate asking for my freedom, but I know that is beyond even his reach. My indenture has been recorded in the halls of the Censors. There is only one path out.

“Thank you, Dominus,” I manage to croak through a dry throat. “I will think about your offer.”

“Your scolding is as sharp as ever, Vary.” Delilah sighs, turning to face me once more with an abashed look on her face. “You have also done me a great service, young gladiator. This is my home. The safety of my guests is my responsibility—a responsibility I failed tremendously tonight. If not for your intervention, many under my roof would have perished.” She pauses for a moment, gathering herself before bowing her head slightly toward me in a gesture of extreme respect. “Thank you, Castor.”

“I live to serve, Domina,” I manage, returning her bow even more deeply. I am floored by her words and respect. A moment ago, I worried that they were going to kill me; now, instead, they pile praise on me. How different these two senators are from the ones that sat on the Argentum Consilio!

“If your dominus will permit me, I would like to give you a gift. It is something that has been treasured by my family for generations but has remained unused for far too long. It’s been waiting for someone worthy.” She glances at her fellow senator to gauge his reaction.

“You’re sure?” Varus’s eyebrows shoot up. It seems he knows exactly what she refers to.

“Come, darling.” A hint of her playful spark returns as she glances at him. “If you’re going to invest in the boy, I might as well join you. It’s far too late for me to hold back now.” I do not know exactly what she means, but the look on Varus’s face is troubled, and so is my spirit.

Delilah snaps her fingers, and a chime sounds throughout the room. Despite my distraction, I feel my body go stiff with horror. Surely that is not a musica relic? The senator seems brash and unsurprised that the Empress sent assassins to kill her, but to boldly display a relic from a forbidden Symbol is beyond shocking.

The sound must have rung outside of our privacy bubble, because the door to the room opens and the serious majordomo enters, bowing to her master. “Clara, fetch the stone box from my personal vault.” If the servant was surprised at the request, she does not show it. She merely nods before withdrawing, moving quickly about her task.

Some of my shock must have shown on my face, because Delilah lets out a delighted laugh when she looks back to me. “Have no fear, young Castor.” She chuckles. “I do not deal in forbidden relics. There is no musica to be found in this home. It is merely a bell attached to an Air relic that will ring when I activate it.” I nod in understanding, marveling at the cleverness of such a device.

The majordomo is swift, returning only a few moments later with a narrow box made of stone in her hands. She enters briskly, pausing before the senator to bow and extend her burden with two hands. Reverently, Delilah lifts the lid, letting it fall back onto her servant’s wrists. Reaching in, she pulls out an object wrapped in paper.

My mouth goes dry as the air suddenly grows cold. The fire in the center of the room rises in response, trying to battle the sudden change in temperature. My breath mists with each exhale. The rest of the palatine ignore it, looking intently at what the senator now holds.

“You may go, Clara,” she tells the majordomo, replacing the lid on the now empty box. The stout woman bows once more before withdrawing, sealing us once more in the privacy bubble created by the relics of this room.

With shaking hands, the senator begins to unwrap the brown paper, her eyes traveling to me as she does. “Over four hundred years ago, as I am sure you know, the Ferrum Domini struck down the gods.” She arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to nod in assent.

“There were seven of them—those Iron Lords, as we call them now. Titus and Frigidus are remembered best. I am sure you know of Pelias”—she nods her head at Varus standing by her side—“but can you name any of the other four, I wonder? Their names have not stood the test of time, just like the rest of their iron kindred, but have rusted away.” My mind flashes to the portrait that I saw hanging in her home as we came to this room.

“Julia?”

She smiles brightly, surprised by my guess. “Did you recognize her painting? Few would. You must have had excellent teachers. You’re a waste in the arena, a waste.”

Varus snorts slightly as if he disagrees. I am supposed to be the salvation of his house. He does not see that as a waste.

My mouth goes a little dry as I recall the Iron Lord’s surname. “Julia Census?”

Delilah’s smile fades a little, as if pulled by memory. “Yes, my ancestor created the White Hand, but that was long ago, young gladiator. They have not been faithful to what they once were.”

I am silent, terrified to speak. The specter of the Censors and their Judicium hovers over me like a long, dark shadow. I am still in grave danger here, even if the sicarii are all dead.

“Like Pelias, Julia was the founder of my House. But my matriarch was not as keen about gathering power as some of her companions. In fact, she wished for none of it. That is why I dwell in so mean an estate as you see here.” I am not sure if she is joking or not.

“You see, Julia did not slay the gods for gain, but for love. She loved Frigidus like Sol loves Luna. Always she looked at him, shining her light on him, but was never able to catch him. He lived away from the rest of them, brooding in the North until he died.” I swallow as my eyes travel down to the object in her hand. The last time I was in Frigidus’s domain, I walked away with a new Symbol and a deal with a mostly dead god.

“She made this for Frigidus but never gave it to him. Instead, she kept it, a monument to her love for the coldest Iron Lord.” She pauses as she finishes unwrapping the paper and holds it out for me to see. She is careful to keep the paper between her flesh and the frigid items that she carries.

It is two large ingots of what appears to be iron with a dark blue hue.

Confused, my gaze flicks back up toward Delilah, trying to gauge if she is messing with me. Then Alessandra lets out a gasp of surprise that tells me I am underestimating this gift. I examine what she holds more carefully, sending my animus sweeping forward to tell me what I have missed.

My jaw drops as my senses sweep over the first ingot. It radiates Ancient Frost like a cold fire. Not Snow or Ice or Winter, but Ancient Frost, in its purest and most natural state. Essence pours out of it like it was made of ice. My Cor leaps like a hungry dog, begging to be fed. But before I can begin to cultivate, I realize that there is a second miracle. For not only is it a source of Winter essence, but also Iron. Somehow this ingot is both Iron and Ancient Frost. I extend a hand toward it without thinking, lost as I study them in awe.

“Sorry,” I gasp, stopping in place when I realize I have almost crossed the distance between us. My sword is missing; I must have dropped it in my daze.

“Silly boy, this is a gift for you.” Delilah laughs, but there is something hooded in her eyes. Even now I am being measured. “They are yours if you can take them.” That draws me up short, warning me of a danger lurking just below the surface. She has been very careful not to touch them directly. Our breath still steams despite the ignis relic’s best attempt to warm the room. My gaze flickers to Varus, looking for direction.

“Pliny?” the senator interjects, calling to his magister for advice.

“Anyone else would be a fool to try,” the short man replies after a moment. That is not as encouraging as I would like it to be.

“Go on, then,” Delilah urges, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s see if you’re worthy to follow in the footsteps of Frigidus.” My ever-present fear coils in my stomach like a serpent, but there is nothing to do but obey. The weight of the room’s attention settles on me, making me hunch my shoulders. Slowly, I extend my left hand to lay a finger on the first ingot.

It’s bitterly cold. The metal sears like fire, but this cold is known to me. The Symbol of Ancient Frost reacts with delight as I cultivate some essence from it, refilling its dry reserves. I let out a gasp of surprise at the strength of its source as I reach out with my second hand to take it from her. Delilah’s eyes are wide with shock as my skin does not turn black from frostbite.

With shaking hands, I lift the ingot, marveling at its weight, rejoicing in the source of true Ancient Frost and Iron. My strained Corda begin to find balance between each other as my reserves are no longer wildly mismatched.

“Senator, this is a wonder,” I breathe, staring at my hands in shock. “What is it? I have never heard of anything like this.”

“According to her journal, she called it Glacialis Ferrum—Frost Iron. Frigidus was a Winter Symbol, just like you. He was loath to leave his kingdom and his source of power,” Delilah explained. “Julia made this to allow him to carry some of his home with him.”

“Then why did she not give them to him?” I am in awe at the gift. Contessa’s training had already shown me that one of my greatest weaknesses was how rare it was to have an ice source with me to refill my Ancient Frost reserves. With this… I will be able to bring Winter with me wherever I go.

“Because then she would have to admit the truth,” Delilah says softly.

“What truth?”

“That it was not the Winter Symbol that kept Frigidus and her apart. He just did not love her.”