by Alyson Noel
She slewed her eyes to the side, her face taking on an expression I couldn’t quite read, and despite hearing everything she’d just said, there was one part in particular that I couldn’t quite grasp.
“So you’re serious—people actually volunteered to fight in the arena, and risk a grisly, violent death?” My eyes grew wide. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. From what little I knew, the arena had been a savage and brutally terrifying place.
“There were many reasons for that,” Messalina snapped, her voice adopting an annoyed, impatient tone. “Some more complicated than others, I might add.” I was just about to gently prod her for more, when she waved her hand before her, smiled sweetly, and said, “So, tell me, what do you think of the party?”
I glanced around the room, not quite sure how to answer. Suddenly feeling shamed by my initial reaction of awe, the thrill of being part of it all, and no longer able to view my surroundings in quite the same way as before.
All of those bright, shiny people who seemed so glamorous just a few moments ago, now appeared savage and depraved, immoral and bloodthirsty in the very worst way. All of those servants bearing the heaping platters of food were not there by choice—they were just as enslaved as the gladiators. Slaves to the house instead of the arena, but still slaves all the same.
“Are all of these people ghosts?” I asked, directing the conversation to a more neutral subject, partly because I was reluctant to annoy her again, and partly because I really was curious. “Are all of these people choosing to haunt this place?”
I gave the room another once-over, wondering why so many slaves would choose to linger in such a wretched, thankless role. But then, it was just like she’d already told me—every ghost had a story. And while I hoped someday they’d find a way to move on, that wasn’t my job. I was there to learn about Theocoles, to focus on the lost soul that had been assigned to me, and no more.
“Some are ghosts, some are not.” Messalina shrugged. “My intention was to re-create the celebration exactly as I remember it, so that you can better understand the world that Theocoles lives in.”
“So, where is he?” I glanced around the room without really expecting to find him. After all, Theocoles was a slave, a gladiator; I seriously doubted he had any real part in this world—or at least not this side of it—the more glamorous side of it. “Is he here? Was he allowed to come to parties like this?”
Messalina nodded, her face cautious, guarded, her arm rising, finger pointing, as she said, “He is right over there.”
I followed the gesture to where a group of gladiators stood at attention, their arms and legs shackled, as a crowd of partygoers stopped to inspect them. Pushing and prodding as though the fierce warriors displayed before them existed for no other reason than to quench the crowd’s morbid amusement.
I started to rush toward him, but didn’t get very far before I was stopped by the firm grasp of Messalina’s long cool fingers encircling my wrist. “Not now.” She looked at me, her smile tight, forced, not the least bit genuine. “You will meet him soon enough, I give you my word. But for now, we have much more pressing matters to attend. We must find a new name with which to call you.”
I looked her over, my face dropping into a frown, not liking the sound of that, not liking it at all. I mean, how could that possibly be more important than my meeting Theocoles? And besides, wasn’t it enough that I’d changed my appearance? Now she had to mess with my name as well?
But before I could lodge a complaint, a slave bearing a large clay jug brushed up against me, bumping me in a way that set me so off balance, got me so spun around, I found myself facing the opposite side of the room where I saw something so incredibly startling, all I could do was freeze right there in place.
Only this time it wasn’t a shiny, reflective surface that distracted me.
This time it was a boy.
A boy who looked at me in a way that … well, in a way that I’d never been looked at before.
With curiosity.
And intensity.
Along with a healthy dose of unmistakable interest.
The same way boys used to look at my sister, Ever—the way they looked at Messalina—but never, not once, at me.
Or at least not the old version of me.
My face grew hot while my hands went all shaky, and I continued to stand there all frozen and stupid and utterly foolish.
I had no idea what to do. No idea how to react. I was as clueless to the customs of the time as I was to being stared at by boys.
I continued like that, a frozen, gaping mess until Messalina finally stepped in and saved me from my own awkward self, when she said, “It’s like I said earlier, you not only need to look the part—you also need to play the part. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” She reached toward my forehead, smiling as she ran a finger across the width of my brow, pushing a loose curl to the side—the feel of her touch stealing my anxiety and leaving calm in its place. “I’ve done the hard work for you—I’ve narrowed it down to two choices, either of which will do, either of which will suit you. So go ahead, you choose—which name do you prefer: Lauricia or Aurelia?” Her eyes flashed as brightly as the jewels that swung from her ears. “Hurry! We must decide quickly,” she whispered, nodding toward the opposite side of the room, her voice brisk and impatient, when she added, “In case you haven’t yet noticed, you’ve managed to cause quite a bit of a stir with one guest in particular. And from what I can tell it’s just a matter of time before he’ll be standing before us, demanding to know who you are, and we’ll need something to tell him, now, won’t we?”
I paused for a moment, acting as though I was giving serious consideration to each name, when the truth is I’d already chosen Aurelia. I’d claimed it the moment I heard it. If for no other reason than it reminded me of Aurora—the most beautiful, serene, accomplished member of the Council, who, as it just so happened, was also my favorite. And yet, it also contained a hint of my own name as well, which pretty much made it the perfect combination.
But before I had a chance to inform Messalina, the boy from across the room was already standing before us. His gaze darting between Messalina and me, as he said, “Messalina, always a pleasure.” He ducked his head low, taking her hand in his so that he could bring his lips to it. Then nodding toward me he added, “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” His gaze locked on mine.
Messalina shot me an anxious look—unsure what to call me. Though it’s not like it mattered. At that moment, it was like time was suspended.
As though the entire party was set on pause.
As though nothing else existed but his dark tousled hair, smooth olive skin, and deeply brown, almost black eyes that made my head swirl.
“My name is Aurelia,” I said, my voice surprisingly sure, extending my hand with a strange rush of calm.
I had no idea where it came from. No idea how I’d found myself slipping so easily into the role of a young and sophisticated Roman aristocrat. And yet, there I was—my gaze lowered shyly, my lips curving flirtatiously, a puff of air rounding my cheeks, as I waited to feel the brush of his palm, the brief sweep of his lips on my hand—the standard greeting of the time. It was as though I really was Aurelia, and at that moment, I preferred her to me.
“Aurelia, this is Dacian,” Messalina informed me, her eyes flashing knowingly. “As you well know, Dacian is the son of a senator,” she added, carefully stating her words, clearly wanting me to get the significance. Dacian was important, someone I should at least pretend to know.
“Strange we have not met before,” Dacian said, his voice as perplexed as his face, as though he truly was struggling to make sense of it.
I shrugged, my shoulders rising and falling as I cast my gaze to the side, amazed by the amount of cool I displayed, though it wasn’t long before it began ebbing away and I was cast out of the role Messalina insisted I play.
I wasn’t used to being around boys that cute—and Dacian definitely fell into the category o
f Seriously Cute. I mean, I’d known him for less than a minute and he’d already claimed the top spot on my “Top 5 Cutest Boys Ever” list—the one that included living people, ghosts, and celebrities (and this despite the fact that his outfit pretty much resembled a dress).
Aurelia shined at that sort of thing, Riley didn’t. But as much as I wanted to be Aurelia again, she was drowned out by the warning that blared in my head, an annoyingly cautious voice shouting: Do not get distracted! Your name is not Aurelia, and Dacian is not on your agenda, no matter how cute he may be. You are here to find Theocoles and cross him over—that’s it!
The voice was loud—a lot louder than I wanted it to be. And yet, it didn’t stand a chance against Messalina’s when she clasped my hand in hers, instantly silencing my thoughts when she said, “Forgive me Aurelia, but I must attend to my aunt for a moment. I trust you’ll be fine in Dacian’s care? I think I’m quite fit to vouch for his good and noble character.” Then turning to Dacian, her voice light and flirtatious, she added, “And I trust you will not make me regret the praise I just heaped upon you? I trust you will be on your best behavior and act like the perfect gentleman I know you to be—at least while you’re in the company of Aurelia?”
I turned toward her, my eyes begging her to stay. My suddenly coy, calm demeanor giving way to a full-blown panic at the thought of being alone with him. I may have looked older than my years, but that was just surface. Inside I was still me. I was still skinny, scrawny, quaking in my shoes, little Riley Bloom. There was no getting around it—I was in over my head.
But if Messalina saw my pleading look, she chose to ignore it. And all I could do was watch in horror as she spun on her heel and made for the other side of the room, heading toward the space where, just a moment before, Theocoles stood.
I mumbled some flimsy excuse—moved to follow her—but I was too slow, and she was too fast, and in the end it was all I could do to keep an eye on her whereabouts.
My gaze anxiously trailing the swishy red hem of her dress, her stream of dark hair—keeping close tabs, carefully retracing each and every step, until Dacian caught up, grasped my arm lightly, and said, “Please don’t leave—not when we’ve only just met, and I have so much still to learn about you! Where is it you come from? Why is it I’ve never seen or heard of you?”
My gaze only shifted for a second—less than a second, I swear—but that’s all it took for me to lose sight of her. In what little time it took for me to switch my gaze from Dacian’s smiling face to the space Messalina had just occupied, she was gone. And there was no doubt in my mind that she’d ditched me on purpose.
8
Dacian stared at me, waiting for a reply, but instead of answering, I ran. Leaving him to stand there, gazing after my shiny, blue dress as I sped across the room, retracing the steps Messalina had taken until I reached the spot where she’d vanished from sight.
I surveyed the area, hands on my hips, head swiveling from side to side. Seeking out all the possible routes she could’ve taken, while replaying her words in my mind.
She’d said she’d gone to check in with her aunt, but I immediately disregarded that, it just didn’t ring true. This had something to do with Theocoles, of that I was sure.
Though I had no idea where to find him, no idea which way to go when the options were endless. Every opening of every room seemed to feed off into another, and another, and yet another, until Messalina’s world began to resemble a complex labyrinth. A complex labyrinth intended to trick me, confuse me, as I’m sure it did all the other Soul Catchers before me.
Dacian called out my name, my new name, his voice cutting through the peals of laughter and party noise, as he worked his way through the crowd in hot pursuit of me. Face stricken, gaze anxious, worried he’d somehow offended me.
With only seconds to spare before he caught up, I shut my eyes tightly and forced everything into silence except my own inner voice, aware of it prodding: The stairs—find the stairs that lead down! Words no louder than a whisper, yet powerful all the same.
But before I could make a move, Dacian was standing before me. His voice as relieved as his face when he said, “There you are, Aurelia!” He bowed low, allowing a glimpse of his tousled brown hair, before he faced me again and his dark eyes landed on mine. “I hope I have not offended you in some way?” His face breaking into a hopeful grin made even more irresistible by the dimples that sprang up at either side of his cheeks.
And at that moment, he was so unbelievably cute I couldn’t come up with one good reason to leave. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, everything I’d ever wanted was well within reach.
I was a teen.
A beautiful teen just like my sister.
And also like my sister, cute boys were now making their way across rooms—willing to look like fools just to be near me.
I was the star of my very own fairy tale.
It was too good to resist.
So I didn’t.
“Please, not to worry—it is nothing like that,” I assured him, my gaze shyly meeting his. “It is only that I …” I knotted my brow, unsure of what followed. My voice sounded odd, containing a strange sort of lilt I didn’t normally posses, never mind the words I’d just used.
Dacian crinkled his brow, took another step forward until he was standing so close I could easily make out each individual golden fleck in his dreamy brown eyes. The sight of his nearness causing me to chew my lower lip, my fingers grasping the folds of my skirt, twisting and turning the fabric until it became crumpled-up bunches I held in my fists. Vaguely aware of the voice in my head that continued to prod me toward … something, I was no longer sure what it could be.
The only thing I knew for certain was that Dacian stood before me, his grin sweet and open—his gaze charmingly hopeful—the rest was a blur.
He blinked, smiled, waited for me to finish the thought, so I cleared my throat and dove in, trusting the right words would find their way out. My voice lighter, girlier, miles away from my usual rasp, sounding just like Aurelia’s when I said, “It is only that I …” Dacian nodded, urging me to finish. “Well …” I pressed my jeweled fingers to my lips, holding back a giggle that didn’t quite feel like mine. “Even though I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, I must confess that I’m not really accustomed to …” boys looking at me, flirting with me, talking to me … my mind spun with the long list of possibilities. “Well, the truth is, I’m not really accustomed to these sorts of parties,” I stammered, feeling a rush of heat rise to my cheeks, knowing that while it barely covered my long list of things I’d yet to experience, that didn’t make it any less true.
Dacian leaned toward me, brow rising in surprise. “You mean to say this is your first time at the games, then?”
I nodded, trying not to squirm under his scrutiny while I twisted the rings on my fingers, hoping he would find my confession to be far more charming than pathetic.
“You did see the gladiators, though? Before they headed back down the stairs to the ludus?”
The stairs.
The words nudged at me, prodded me. As simple as they seemed on the surface, I couldn’t help but feel that they somehow went deeper, held significant meaning.
“I hope that at the very least you were able to view the champion, Theocoles, the one they call the Pillar of Doom? Although he’s considered to be favored by the gods, one must never forget that they all fall eventually. Who knows, this may have been your last chance to view him. Though I suppose tomorrow, we’ll know for sure.”
Theocoles.
The Pillar of Doom.
The words set off alarms in my head. Like the sound of hands clapping, fingers snapping, it was as though I’d been awakened from a very deep sleep.
Or, more like a trance.
Suddenly the magnitude of what had just happened became all too clear.
Suddenly I was all too aware of what’d happened to all of those poor Soul Catchers before me.
Messalina’s
world was tempting, alluring, offering the immediate promise of everything one could ever long for that seemed just out of reach. She’d enchanted me, just like she had them. She’d given me the life I’d always dreamed of—and in turn distracted me from my own plans.
Despite Bodhi’s warning, despite knowing the risks, as it turns out, I was no different from the rest of my fellow Soul Catchers. I’d barely arrived, and I’d already caved.
If I had any hope of saving Theocoles—not to mention saving myself—then I had to be more careful, more vigilant. I had to be on my guard where Messalina’s concerned. I could not afford to let her enchant me again.
I had to do whatever it took to get the job done, and get the heck out. Otherwise, I’d remain stuck forever as Aurelia—a girl so different from me, I’d never be found.
Dacian may hold the number one spot on my “Cute” list, but I was there to do a job—and I was determined to see it through.
I flicked a hand through my curls, not wanting him to catch on to my sudden change in mood, not wanting him to guess I’d just sprung free of the spell. “Oh, well, I guess I must’ve missed him—what a shame!” I said, rearranging my expression to appear a tiny bit flustered. “Though I think I’ll just make my way down real quick so I can have a look. Do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”
Dacian gaped, looked at me like I was stark-raving crazy. “The ludus?” He gasped. “Why, you can’t go down there—it’s dangerous!” He looked from me to the space just behind me, the space just to the right of me. Without even realizing it, he’d just answered my question, told me exactly which way to head.
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” I giggled into my hand, and waved the thought away as though I’d already dismissed it. “Though I do need to find Messalina, so just give me a moment, and I’ll find my way back—” I looked at him, looked right into his eyes, adding, “Promise you’ll wait for me here?” Spinning on my heel before he had a chance to reply and heading in the direction he’d unknowingly sent me.
