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When the Snake disappears out the door, I turn on Helene. “Tell me there was a reason for that. ”
“It’s the Commandant’s slave. Your. . . friend. Laia. ”
I see then the cloud of dark hair, the gold skin, which had been obscured by Marcus’s body before. A sick feeling fills me as I crouch down beside her and turn her over. Her wrist is broken, the bone jutting out against the skin.
Bruises darken her arms and neck. She moans and tries to move. Her hair is a tangled mess, and both of her eyes are blackened and swollen shut.
“I’ll kill Marcus for this,” I say, my voice flat and calm, a calm I don’t feel.
“We have to get her to the infirmary. ”
“Slaves are forbidden from seeking treatment in the infirmary,” Izzi whispers from behind us. I’d forgotten she was there. “The Commandant will punish her for it. And you. And the physician. ”
“We’ll take her to the Commandant,” Helene says. “The girl’s her property. She has to decide what to do with her. ”
“Cook can help her,” Izzi adds.
They’re both right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I pick Laia up gently, mindful of her wounds. She is light, and I pull her head to my shoulder.
“You’ll be fine,” I murmur to her. “All right? You’re going to be just fine. ”
I stride out of the hall, not waiting to see if Helene and Izzi follow. What would have happened if Helene and I hadn’t been nearby? Marcus would have raped Laia and she’d have bled out whatever life she had left on that cold stone floor. The knowledge fans the rage burning within me.
Laia shifts her head and moans. “Damn—him—”
“To the lowest pit of hell,” I mutter. I wonder if she still has the bloodroot I gave her. This is too much for bloodroot, Elias.
“Tunnel,” she says. “Darin—Maz—”
“Shhh,” I say. “Don’t talk now. ”
“All evil here,” she whispers. “Monsters. Little monsters and then big ones. ”
We reach the Commandant’s house, and Izzi holds open the gate to the servants’ corridor. Upon seeing us through the propped kitchen door, Cook drops a bag of spice she’s holding, staring at Laia in horror.
“Get the Commandant,” I order her. “Tell her that her slave is injured. ”
“In here. ” Izzi gestures to a low door with a curtain strung across it. I lay Laia down on the pallet inside with aching slowness, one limb at a time. He lene hands me a threadbare blanket, and I pull it over the girl, knowing how futile it is. A blanket won’t help her.
“What happened?” The Commandant speaks from behind me. Helene and I duck out into the servants’ corridor, now crowded with, Izzi, Cook, and the Commandant.
“Marcus attacked her,” I say. “He nearly killed her—”
“She shouldn’t have been out at this hour. I dismissed her for the evening.
Any injuries she’s sustained are the result of her own foolhardiness. Leave her. You’re on the east wall for watch tonight, as I recall. ”
“Will you send for the physician? Shall I get him?”
The Commandant stares at me as if I’m off my gourd.
“Cook will tend to her,” she says. “If she lives, she lives. If she dies. . . ”
My mother shrugs. “Not that it’s any business of yours. You slept with the girl, Veturius. That doesn’t mean you own her. Get to watch. ” She puts a hand on her whip. “If you’re late, I’ll take every minute out of your hide. Or,” she tilts her head thoughtfully, “the slave’s, if you prefer. ”
“But—”
Helene grabs me by the arm and pulls me down the corridor.
“Let go of me!”
“Didn’t you hear her?” Helene says as she hauls me away from the Commandant’s house and across the sand training fields. “If you’re late to watch, she’ll whip you. The Third Trial’s two days away. How will you survive it if you can’t even put on your armor?”
“I thought you didn’t care what happened to me anymore,” I say. “I thought you were done with me. ”
“What did she mean,” Helene asks quietly, “when she said you’d slept with the girl?”
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I say. “I’m not like that, Helene, you should know better. Look, I’ve got to find some way to help Laia.
For one second, put aside the fact that you hate me and want me to suffer and die. Can you think of anyone I can take her to? Even someone down in the city—”
“The Commandant won’t allow it. ”
“She won’t know—”
“She’ll find out. What’s wrong with you? The girl isn’t even a Martial. And she has one of her own to help her. That cook’s been around for ages. She’ll know what to do. ”
Laia’s words echo in my mind. All evil here. Monsters. Little monsters and then big ones. She’s right. What is Marcus if not the worst kind of monster?
He beat Laia with the intent of killing her, and he won’t even get punished for it. What is Helene when she so casually shrugs off the idea of helping the girl? And what am I? Laia’s going to die in that dark little room. And I’m doing nothing to stop it.
What can you do? a pragmatic voice asks. If you try to help, the Commandant will only punish you both, and that will kill the girl for sure.
“You can heal her,” I realize suddenly, stunned that I didn’t think of it before. “The way you healed me. ”
“No. ” Helene walks away from me, her entire body suddenly stiff. “Absolutely not. ”
I chase after her. “You can,” I insist. “Just wait half an hour. The Commandant will never know. Get into Laia’s room and—”
“I won’t do it. ”
“Please, Helene. ”
“What’s it to you, anyway?” Helene says. “Do you—are the two of you—”
“Forget that. Do it for me. I don’t want her to die, all right? Help her. I know you can. ”
“No you don’t. I don’t even know if I can. What happened with you after the Trial of Cunning was—bizarre—freakish. I’d never done it before. And it took something out of me. Not my strength exactly but. . . forget it. I’m not going to try it again. Not ever. ”
“She’ll die if you don’t. ”
“She’s a slave, Elias. Slaves die all the time. ”
I back away from her. All evil here. Monsters. . . “This is wrong, Helene. ”
“Marcus has killed before—”
“Not just the girl. This. ” I look around. “All of this. ”
The walls of Blackcliff rise around us like impassive sentinels. There is no sound other than the rhythmic clink of armor as the legionnaires patrol the ramparts. The silence of the place, its brooding oppression, makes me want to scream. “This school. The students that come out of it. The things we do. It’s all wrong. ”
“You’re tired. You’re angry. Elias, you need rest. The Trials—” She tries to put her hand on my shoulder, but I shake her off, sick at her touch.