We spend another ten days at Delilah’s estate. No more Shadowbound sicarii make an appearance, but despite that, my days are filled with terror. Something is wrong with my Corda—my Hearts. Pliny was right about the strain of maintaining two different tiers.

When I was a boy, my father made me watch as they slaughtered a calf that was born with a defect. Its physical heart was deformed. Half of its chambers were too small for its body. As it grew in size, its body eventually became too big for it. The medico, a man bound to a sanguinis—blood—Symbol, told me that it would slowly asphyxiate and that putting it down now was a mercy.

My Copper Cor, the one bound to Unrelenting Fire, feels like it is too small for my body. I have been physically transformed by my Ascension to Silver. My bones are heavier, my muscles thicker. I require more energy to do a simple thing like walking. This new Heart is not prepared to feed the demands that my body puts on it, just by existing. Every moment, I feel it straining, passively burning essence trying to keep up with my needs. Even though there are two other Hearts to share the load, it does not seem to help, only exaggerate it. Perhaps because they both are responsible for my current state, they work against their weaker kin.

To make matters worse, my reserves are not the same size. Ancient Frost and Iron are both Silver Corda—the difference between their capacities is negligible. Until this point, it has been an easy thing for me to keep my reserves in balance. During a battle or over the course of the day, it is common for them to become lopsided, as I am usually without any Winter sources, but the effects of having those Symbols unaligned over a short period of time are barely noticeable.

That is not the case for my new one. Unrelenting Fire rages, almost jealous of the supremacy of its counterparts within me. It is impossible for me to top off all my reserves and be in balance. My Copper Heart, which has only begun the journey from low to peak, can only hold a fraction of what my Silver ones can. Filling all my Corda to the brim leaves me feeling sick to my stomach, as if I have eaten nothing but spoiled food for days. The longer that this persists, the more ill I become, until my body shakes. When I finish training for the day, I must bleed off my Silver Corda to balance the pressure that exists inside of me.

Pliny and Contessa watch me like hawks. The lanista respects her counterpart’s wishes about training, but she has been relentless in the ways she can still push me. Delilah’s estate does not have a somnatorium for me to fight opponents created by dream relics, so instead, she duels me herself twice a day, morning and night. We use wooden practice swords that provide me no advantage against the Gold.

Contessa does not even need to use her Symbol to put me in my place. She is faster, stronger, and far more skilled than I am. I leave each session with new bruises that even my Silver Corda struggle to heal.

When the bald woman has finished beating me, Pliny is always at my side, supervising my essence gathering to make sure that I am not pushing my Silver Heart toward Ascension while leaving the Copper one behind.

There is only one problem with his approach. The path from Copper to Silver is mostly about feeding a new Heart its essence. With enough time spent cultivating, anyone can Ascend to the second tier. I now truly understand how strong my father’s willpower was to resist going past Copper when he literally worked among a rich source of his Symbol day in and day out. It would have taken minimal effort for him to become an argentum.

Pliny watches me cultivate Winter essence from a small locus relic that he brought with him. Despite hours spent pulling it through my “new” Heart, I have not yet made any measurable progress. He is distressed by this, even though he tries to hide it. I am frustrated because harvesting more Ancient Frost will not fix my problem.

I need Fire.

“Don’t worry, lad,” he says after every painstaking session. “Carrying another Heart adds a lot of strain on your body. It is only a matter of time.” I smile and nod, trying to look like I’m not terrified.

I am, but not because it’s not working. I’m terrified because I cannot get access to the essence I need. They are watching me too closely. At night, I brush my hands through torches as I pass them; I tarry a moment too long, placing a log in the bonfire that burns outside the servants’ quarters; I feed myself in sips and bites, but I am hungry.

Alessandra’s warning echoes in my mind, keeping me in check despite the desires of my ravenous new Heart. If I am caught cultivating Fire, there will be nothing that can save me or this House. The oath that is seared into my bones prickles warningly whenever I want to take the risk. It does not stop me, but it reminds me of my duty—of the penalty if I fail.

So, I sit with Pliny, wasting my time, making no progress. I gorge on essence that only makes my Copper Heart sick, threatening to tear me apart from within. I do not know how long I can bear it before something breaks. I hope it is my mind and not my Corda.

It is a relief when Varus announces that we will be continuing on toward Antioch. Senator Delilah joins us, riding with Varus and Alessandra in the front of the airhorse caravan. Was she always going to travel with us, or did the assassins change her plans? I do not know, but a half-dozen of her Spartan Guards join us, riding in the Ferrum coach with the Ironbound gladiators.

“What’s wrong with you?” Illy complains as I groan after we hit another bump in the road. This far from Forum, the cobblestones are not as smooth as my body would like.

“I’m not used to riding like this,” I admit, letting it be a blanket excuse for the malaise brewing inside me. Pliny insisted that I fill my Ancient Frost Cor to the brim before we left. The games at Antioch begin in a week, and he will waste no opportunity to push me to Ascend before then.

My insides bubble as the different elements fight with each other like a herd of kittens in a barrel. Each rumble makes me pray to Dead Thanatos to come and collect me, but my supplications fall on deaf ears.

“Well, it’s gross,” Illy says, giving me a sniff. I have not seen the other gladiators for a few days. Pliny and Contessa kept me separated, hoping to solve my problem with as few witnesses as possible. When that failed, the magister produced a type of paint that binds to my flesh like a second skin. Using a thin brush, he painted every inch of my Copper veins to match my Silver ones. I feel ridiculous, like anyone who looks at me can see my false lines for what they are, but no one has said anything.

“You weren’t like this before,” Reese comments, turning around to look at me from the front.

“It wasn’t this bumpy before.”

“Surely our new champion isn’t afraid of it getting a little rough?” Leon sneers from the front. His face has healed from the damage I did to it, and as the bruises have faded, so has the lesson. I should have hit him harder.

“Not with you.” I smile in the least friendly way I can. The blond Air electus twitches before looking away. Maybe not everything has been forgotten.

“Idiot,” Illy grumbles from beside me as the carriage falls back into silence.

“Me or him?”

“Why do I have to choose?”

After the sights of Forum and Anteforum, Antioch is almost a disappointment. Far larger than Segesta or any other city I have ever seen, it cannot hold a candle to the capital of the Empire. Its streets are not as dense, its buildings not as tall. But even if it was able to match the great city, it would be overshadowed by the ocean that spreads beyond it, covering the horizon. Against that expanse, anything would seem small.

I have never seen the sea. The scale of it is staggering. It covers the horizon in the same slate gray until it eventually seems to meet the sky. The magisters say this is where the world curves, but that is something I cannot fathom.

The great port city sits on the water’s edge like an eagle on its perch. Great ships sail to and from its harbor, flying the gray flag of the Iron Empire. I spy a pair carrying the bold V of the Fifth Legion, reminding me that Agogia has a presence here.

We sweep through the great gates of the city unquestioned. Antioch is so large that it would be impossible for them to interview everyone who comes and goes. Hard-eyed men wearing the blue tunics of the Second Quadrant watch us pass over the ridge of their scuti. I spot several Fidelis soldiers, proudly displaying their Silver veins. A snarl rises on my lips as I remember how easily the recruits in these legions were accepted by the Argentum Consilio.

Unconsciously, I rub at my own arms, realizing that there will be another set of eyes watching me that I must fool. Copper legionnaires cannot sense my use of the Iron Symbol unless I literally cross blades with them. But a Silver Ironbound might be able to sense my will moving if they were close enough. The danger grows, and I have not even stepped into the ring yet.

The airhorses finally slow down as we reach streets that are packed with plebeians moving about their days. The other gladiators laugh as they point at the sights, humming with nervous energy.

I do not join in on their excitement. Shadows seem to grow over me as we move deeper in the city. I feel like an arrow in flight, hurtling toward a target with no way to slow down. All I can do is brace for the inevitable impact as it draws close.

“Look at the size of that temple!” Illy exclaims to me, jabbing me in the side with his elbow. I grunt as we flow past a ruin that sits back from the street. The statue of a headless woman sits in the front of the building that has no roof. She carries a scale for measuring in her right hand, extending in judgment. My spine prickles with that far too familiar otherworldly attention as I realize who I am looking at.

“I’ve never seen a Nemesis ruin before,” Illy remarks, turning his head to watch it go. “She was one of the more dangerous gods, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” I manage through a suddenly dry throat. “That’s what I heard too.” No one else comments on the empty monument to a dead god, but my head turns to track it as we go past. I do not need to feel the god’s attention settle on me to know what is expected.

If you wish for my aid, you will bring your blood—your votum—to me in my temple. Her voice whispers in my mind once more. Slowly, I move my hand down to my thigh, checking for the thousandth time that the bloody stone is still in my pocket. The pressure builds on the back of my neck as something watches, waiting to see what I will do. I bury the thought, distracting myself with my first sight of why we are here.

Despite being unimpressed by Antioch compared to Forum, I am blown away by the sight of the Bellona Arena. The one dedicated to Mars in Forum is supposed to be the largest in all the Empire, but I cannot imagine something bigger than the one in Antioch. A massive statue to the goddess stands before it. Her head is also missing, but the rest of her stone corpse towers over us. In one hand, she carries a naked sword, in the other a burning torch. A helmet, almost identical to the one worn by the legions rests at her feet.

Bright red flags dance across the top, celebrating the blood that is to come. Built of stone, I can only catch glimpses of its interior, but it is massive. It makes the collegium arena I competed in look like a child’s playhouse.

“They say thirty thousand people can sit in its stands to watch the Games,” Illy breathes in reverent awe. I cannot fathom so many gathered in one place. There were not even that many people in Segesta as a whole. To be watched by so many people seems a nightmare in itself. I understand now why Contessa insisted on training me in the somnatorium just to prepare me for the weight of their eyes.

The silence remains as we pass by the massive structure. Its presence looms over us like an oncoming storm. For the first time, I feel a touch of dread. Not of the secrets I carry or the death sentence that hovers over me. But fear of the ring itself. I have taken it for granted that I will survive my matches.

After all, I am an uninhibited Iron electus. What do I have to fear? But that is only arrogance speaking. I have only begun to scratch the surface of my power. As my gurgling body reminds me, I am also far from my usual strength. If I do not figure out how to fix my mismatched Corda, I will have to fight in a much weaker state than I was expecting.

What kind of killers will I face in the ring? What if my opponent does not rely on Iron, but some other material? A wood-attuned archer would have no need for metal tips on their arrows. It would be a simple matter for them to feather me at a distance, no matter what Symbol I’m bound to.

Seeing the place where so many have bled and died suddenly makes the danger real, the same way that standing in the front lines of the Twelfth did.

The quarters for Domus Pelias’s ludus are only a block from the Bellona Arena, situated so that its long shadow will fall over us during Sol’s nightly descent. Compared to the compound we are used to, it is practically a prison. There is a small walled-off square with a sandy courtyard for training and many dormitories to house all the fighters. There are more than a score of these same buildings lining the street, ready to accommodate the ludi that have come to compete in the Games.

The Broken Trident emblem flies from a pair of banners hanging from the gate as our convoy rumbles through. A half-dozen of the other walled entrances also bear flags, marking them as occupied by our opponents.

“There’s Domus Apicius,” Reese says to Fannia, pointing at a black flag flying several compounds down from ours, bearing the white-bleached skull of a minotaur mythus. Dorian tried to claim that they were interested in buying me when he was negotiating with Varus.

“Lucullus is here too.”

“Jupiter’s Teeth, is that Domus Grus?” Leon curses, pointing at the crest of a long-legged bird I have never seen before.

“Yes,” Illy murmurs, the disgruntlement between all of us forgotten for now. The rest of my peers call out other notable families, palatines that I have only read about in history books. Domuum Crassus, Cornelli, and Valerus are spotted.

My hand shakes when I hear someone shout their name. The Valerus banner is of the krakenus, a many-armed creature of myth that lives in the deep ocean. I did not know that Brennus’s house also owned a ludus.

So much money and power congregating at one spot, funneling their resources to challenge Varus and, by extension, all of us. All in the name of securing more Corda for their houses. It seems like such a small thing to spend so much on. And yet, as I have begun to see since leaving my home, this is the way of the world. Those who have will do what they must to have more.

The compound’s gate shuts behind us as our carriages draw to a halt in the courtyard. I lean back in my seat, letting my stomach enjoy no longer being rattled every moment.

“Gladiators out!” Contessa’s voice booms through the silence, driving us all to our feet. One by one, we climb down to the dusty ground and gather like a lost herd of sheep around our carriage. Varus and Delilah make their way to a stairwell on the side of the wall, heading toward their own quarters. Their heads are close together, deep in conversation. Alessandra follows in their wake, turning to gaze down at us as she ascends. Our eyes meet, and she smiles slightly before turning away.

I swallow nervously as I shift my stance. I know that she is only seeking to remind me that I hold her life in my hands along with my own. But despite that, I cannot shake a strange warmth that blossoms in my chest.

“Easy, ice boy,” Reese murmurs from my side. I glance at the mane-haired girl in surprise. She shakes her head as she turns away, amused by something. “You act like a woman’s never smiled at you before.”

“I don’t think—” I start to protest.

“Listen up, here are your quarters assignments,” Contessa shouts, stepping up against the squat building that waits for us. “Golds, take the first hall. Silvers, the second. Coppers, third. Irons, fourth. Blanks, you guessed it, you’re in the fifth one.” A wave of dry chuckles echoes as we begin to move toward our direction.

I head down the second hall, counting the doors as I approach. There are ten, but we are only six. On a flash of instinct, I pick up my pace to pass Leon and the others. The blond Air electus glares at me but says nothing. I ignore him, claiming the first room on the right, closest to the entrance.

“Mercury-damned gloryhound,” I hear Leon complain to Obellius as they pass. I ignore him, closing the door behind me to take in the room. Let him think what he wants. I did not choose the first out of some sense of entitlement, only because it will be easier to sneak out of at night.

The quarters are nicer than Delilah’s servant dormitorium but not nearly as luxurious as my space back at the Pelias compound. It is just a small room with a single lumos relic and a bed. I toss my satchel onto the mattress and sit on the edge, trying to plan as I gaze down at my fake Silver veins.

Five days.

I have less than a week to fix my broken body before I will be called into the ring, or I may never leave this place.