Lillith

  I walk back from the colosseum after the third fight of the day. Considering how much healing I need after each bout and how much more slowly I heal than most, that’s about as many as I can swing. I am impressed with the healing; even with Sarafyna’s help it’s rare to heal this quickly and with so few scars. My tumors have even started to shrink a little more quickly, despite my paramour’s absence. I feel completely fine, despite the numerous cuts and wounds inflicted on me throughout the day. The abuse I tanked in any one of those three fights should have left me drinking through a tube for weeks at least. But I am fine. Better than fine, even. I’m energetic.

  Fuckface Markus has held up his end of the bargain so far as well. I have not, so far, been ordered to kill anyone. It’s only been one day since our deal, but even so. It’s a relief, of a sort. Of course, that is a building full of slaves expected to face their death every single day. I imagine once I figure out a way to break them all out and get them to safety, the deal may fall apart. He didn’t technically forbid orchestrating a mass escape of the other gladiators, but it was a verbal contract. They can get a little messy sometimes. You know, he said, she said. He sucked, she planned his murder. This kind of thing falls apart all the time. But for now, it seems to be holding.

  I do get a lot of looks and fingers pointed my way by whispering passersby, but as planned, none of it is dangerous. I am famous for playing myself extremely convincingly. Kind of like the opposite of Tony Hawk. I can finally walk through the city with neither a heavy wool cloak nor conspicuous heat mana to keep me cool. When people see my tattoos, they don’t think of cultists but of the up and coming gladiator. It’s a relief. It will make it more important to cover up later, when it comes time to get back on my murder shit. But for now I can actually move around. A privilege I am currently using to, well, go back to my room. Yeah, I’m not using it much at the moment. I haven’t had much emotional energy for it. But hey, it’s the principle of the thing, right?

  I arrive at the room I share with Autumn and Ember, only to be stopped by August, the only one I don’t expect to find inside. He grabs my human arm and gives me a serious look. “Hey Lil. Can we talk?” he asks. His words are gentle but his tone has an edge. An edge which grows more familiar every day. I sigh internally but offer him a gentle smile. I know what he wants to talk about, but he won’t like what I have to say. He wanted to talk last night, but dinner with dickface ran late, and failed to yield any useful information at all. I made it back well after sunset and, despite his worried look and my meager sleep schedule, I really did need to sleep first. It wasn’t until last night, after Ember’s nightmare had woken us up, that Autumn told me what they had witnessed in the stands. I feel terrible for brushing him off, but he’d waited so long to speak to me that he was dead to the world when I left for the arena today. It’s a conversation that’s overdue.

  “Yeah, Auggie. Lead the way,” I agree. He lets out a deep, relieved breath and nods. I follow him to his own room, where he sits on his bed and I take the chaise in the corner. “Ember with Autumn right now?” I check. He gives me a look of exasperation and disappointment all rolled into one.

  “Of course. You know I wouldn’t leave her alone,” he replies. I do know that. But it’s never something to take for granted. Of course, considering the topic at hand, it’s even more unlikely he’d leave Autumn on her own.

  “Right, I know. I’m just looking out for her,” I respond.

  “Are you?” August quips, his words drawing only a little blood.

  “I am,” I respond simply. I’m not here to defend my choices to him. I’m here to talk about what he saw, and so is he. His glare is sharp, but softens just a little.

  “Autumn says she told you what happened yesterday?” he asks. I nod. “Lil, I can’t get it out of my mind. A man killed himself in front of me. He was there one moment, and just . . . gone the next. The same thing that almost happened to my sister. My twin sister. I keep replaying it in my head, over and over. In the middle of a crowd, hundreds of people watching him. He just . . . chose to die.” He doesn’t immediately follow this with anything, but it’s clear he’s not expecting a response just yet. He clenches and releases his fist a couple times before locking his glassy eyes on me again. “Lily, the people in the city, maybe this entire country, don’t even feel grief. They can’t. They have been cured of it. But he still chose to die. And I can’t help but think . . . if that’s a choice people can make when they aren't grieving, how much easier must it be when they are crushed under their sorrow? Even these people aren’t safe. Doesn’t that mean Autumn is in even more danger?”

  I examine his eyes for a long moment. He loves his sister so much. I empathize. “I get it, August,” I reply. “I hate seeing my loved ones in pain. I fucking hate it. It hurts like stone in my veins. It hurts so much, I ran away from my own family. Yeah, I had to come anyway. I had the perfect fucking excuse. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t run from it. It’s so hard to watch. So hard to feel. I understand your worry for your sister. I am worried for her too. And I know, the thought of taking that grief away sounds like a balm on an open wound. I know it sounds like it will heal her. But it won’t. If I thought it would help her without hurting her more, I’d be right there with you. I may not love her like a sibling, but I do love her. I want her to stop hurting too.”

  August grits his teeth and his glare sharpens again. “You fucking loathe her,” he challenges. This cuts much deeper and knocks the breath out of me. I can only look back at him with wide eyes. “I have seen how you look at her when she has her back turned. I can feel it, emanating from you like heat from a kettle, building up pressure bit by bit. You hate her. You wish you hadn’t stopped her from jumping. You think I can’t see it? We all can. You blame her for Henry’s death. Just as much as she does. Can you really say you are leaving her in grief for her own good, and not as a punishment?” Three times today I was nearly beaten to unconsciousness, but this is the first time I’ve really been wounded.

  I want to deny it, but he’s right. At least a little. I didn’t even realize I looked at her like that. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Compartmentalized it away where it was quiet. But nothing is ever truly silent. I can’t ignore the image that forced its way into my mind when we sat on top of that building. That twitch in my new arm, ready to push her. I do hate her. She is one of three people I want to punish for Henry’s death. One of three who aren’t already dead, anyway. At least as far as I know. But I don’t mean to actually punish her.

  “You’re right,” I respond, clenching my own fists. “I do resent Autumn. I do blame her. But I also love her. Henry loved her even more than he loved me, and hurting her would be spitting on his grave. I am not punishing her with grief. I don’t even know why she is still feeling it now, with Sara gone. I couldn’t take it away even if I thought it was a good idea. You need to listen to me, August. Autumn said there was another man there. One who said this happens all the time, right?”

  “You don’t huh? You have no idea at all why she is still hurting while everyone else in this country is free from it. Even I don’t feel any grief anymore. Just anger. Just resentment. Even you don’t. But Autumn, Autumn still gets all of it. How goddamn convenient. The person you resent the most is the one who mysteriously carries the most pain,” he snaps.

  Again I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. He thinks I’m not grieving still? He thinks I would do that to a person? “Is that really what you think of me?” I ask. “After everything, you think I would do that to a person?” He clicks his tongue in irritation.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I didn’t. But I didn’t think you’d ever hate Autumn either. You’re not exactly the girl I wanted to court back in school. I don’t know who you are. But I know Autumn is hurting, and you, probably the woman who hates her most, are playing games in the arena. Exactly what should I think?” August throws back. Every word lands like the crack of a whip. August is my friend. One of the first nobles I’ve actually trusted. Hell, he’s the first person I openly ‘came out’ to here, and he was shockingly blasé about it. Even supportive. I like him. If I didn't, the way he sees me now wouldn’t hurt so much. Especially since, even if it’s only a little, every word has the bite of truth to it. I am not punishing Autumn. But as much as I love her, I do hate her. I don’t even logically blame her for what she did. I do blame her for failing to tell me about it later, but even if she had, a part of me would still hate her. A part of me would still have considered pushing her from that tower. A part of me would still want to follow her.

  I take a deep breath and bite back the quiver that tries to escape in my voice. Even as he berates me, he needs to see a strong front. He needs to have me to lean on. “August. He said it happens all the time. I spoke to the other gladiators today and they confirmed it. Have you ever been to any place where casually taking your own life is considered regular and mundane? At any time in Potestia? Do you really think it’s unique to the arena? People aren’t doing this despite their lack of grief. They’re doing this because of it. If I had a way to hand Autumn over to the sages, it would only increase the risk to her safety,” I respond, measuring my voice to present more calm than I feel. I see his denial brewing but I cut it off at the pass. “Look, all I’m asking is that you investigate it. We’ve been focused on the sages, but shift gears. Or, uh, change your target. Ask around. Read the news; listen to rumors. I’m willing to bet the suicide rate in this country is astonishing.

  “Before you ask me to find a way to rob your sister of her pain, before you accuse me of inflicting it on her on purpose, find out if that’s what you really want. Because it will hurt her, August. It will hurt her more than I ever could. You can take away someone’s ability to shit because it seems cleaner, but it will still make a mess. The difference is it will kill them too. An ugly metaphor, I know, but an effective one. You said you would wait. You need to wait longer. You need to process what you saw yesterday. You need to examine it before you try and resign someone you love to the same fate. I get it. I do. You faced the reality of what your sister almost did. Of how close you got to losing her. And you’re afraid no one will stop her next time. But there is no quick fix. There is no gluing her back together and putting her on your shelf exactly as she was before my brother died. You can only be there for her and support her. I am not punishing her, and I never will. However I feel about her. So before you jump to that, make damn sure you know it won’t leave her rotting on the inside.”

  August continues to glare at me. “Fine. But you’re going to have a hard time of convincing me of this entirely. While you are free from your grief and she is not. Just get out for now. I’ll speak to you again when I am done chasing down your excuses. Eventually, you are going to have to account for that disparity,” he replies. My heart sinks into my stomach. I turn to leave. I knew he wanted to talk about what he saw. But I didn’t know it was going to be like this.

  Before I leave the room I pause. “My grief isn’t gone, August. And I wouldn’t give it up for anything,” I whisper.

  “Could have fooled me,” August quips, turning his head to look out his window. It bites, but not as hard as his comments about my feelings toward Autumn. I leave his room feeling defeated, waiting in the hall to catch my breath. Sobs threaten to escape and I have to wait for several minutes before I can control them and put on a brave face again. But Autumn needs me to wear that face. Ember needs it too. After nearly ten minutes, I finally return to my own room. Ember is in her bed with her eyes closed, although I don’t think she is sleeping. She seemed to have a rough night, so I get it. Autumn, however, is standing and glaring at me.

  “Would you just hit me?” she snaps the second she sees me. What the fuck? What’s all this about?

  “Why would I do that, Autumn?” I ask. She clicks her tongue in a way identical to her twin’s.

  “You can’t die in that arena, Lily. If you die, the rest of us have nothing. It will kill Sara. It will kill me. And you’ll leave Ember back where she started. We are all counting on you too much for you to get yourself killed,” she snaps.

  “I know that, what does that have to do with hitting you?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Do you? I’ve seen every one of your matches, Lily. It sure doesn’t feel like you know other people are counting on you. What you are doing out there? It’s pathetic. It’s spitting on your brother’s grave,” she says, somehow throwing my own words back at me despite her absence when I said them. “I get it. I understand, probably better than anyone. But if you are going to keep punishing someone for Henry’s death, make it someone expendable. Someone we can do without. Someone no one is expecting anything from. Just fucking hit me, instead of getting yourself killed. We are both responsible, not just you. If you are determined to make someone pay in blood for Henry’s death, make it me. I deserve it more anyway. And you’re not the only one who feels it every time you take a kick or a cut you could have avoided.”

  Again one of the twins takes the wind from my lungs. I tighten my lips and one fist, completely unable to respond. I’m not going to hurt Autumn. I would never hurt Autumn. But when she asks me to, I am tempted. But I just swore to August that I would never punish Autumn for what happened. I can’t face the reality of the punishment I have been accepting in her stead. I’m not sure it was even a conscious choice. But what choice was it, exactly? Three living people hold the blame for my brother’s death. If I stop punishing myself, can I keep that promise to August? Will I start punishing the others instead? How can I tell August I would never do that, when I have been doing it to one of the three this entire time? I need to speak. I need to tell Autumn she isn’t expendable. She doesn’t deserve anything more than me. But I don’t. Autumn huffs.

  “Well. If you aren’t going to hit me, I’m going to August’s room. Let me know if you change your mind. But whether you do or not, stop fucking around when your life is on the line. It’s disgusting,” Autumn says after I fail to respond for a moment. She shoves her way past me, leaving the room. I lean out, making sure she does actually enter the room next door and isn’t left alone. Finally, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I slump onto my bed, already exhausted by the emotional beating I’ve taken in the past few minutes.

  “You got something you want to yell at me for too?” I ask. Ember grunts.

  “You snore loud as shit. Some of us need our sleep,” Ember complains without skipping a beat. It doesn’t have the familiar tone of a friendly joke, but it somehow feels like one anyway. Maybe I just needed a complaint that was petty. Maybe I just see a handhold to bring me back to a reality I can face. Maybe being flippant is just easier for me.

  “I don’t snore. I don’t care what you or Sara say. You’re just jealous of me, obviously,” I joke, enjoying the moment of pettiness.

  “Jealous of what? Your vibrant friendships? Yeah, think I’ll pass on those,” Ember retorts. Ouch.

  “No, because my dick is bigger than yours,” I respond sarcastically. Ember finally opens her eyes, slits of pupils rolling over to me.

  “I don’t even have a dick, what kind of jab even is that?’ she responds.

  “Neither do I, but mine is still bigger,” I answer. She groans in irritation.

  “Go fuck yourself with it, then,” she dismisses, rolling over on her side and turning away from me.

  “Yeah, yeah. You eat shit too, bestie,” I reply. She just grunts again, bored with the conversation. It wasn’t exactly friendly but the flavor of insults with no bite far surpasses the accusations from the twins. It helps me level out. I close my eyes. I can’t think about all of this right now. I’ll spiral. Instead, I retreat back inside myself. There is plenty of day left, and I won’t need to sleep until well into the night. It’s high time I figured out how to get stronger. That I can think about without pain. It’s time to become more demonic. It’s time to turn my body into an even more deadly weapon.