TableofContents

TitlePage
Epigraph

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alsobyalysonnoël
author’snote
acknowledgments
QuestionsfortheAuthor
CopyrightPage

Foryou.

Yes,YOU.

Theoneholdingthisbook.

Thankyoufortakingthisjourney

withRileyandme!

Noneofuswilleveraccomplishanythingexcellentorcommanding
exceptwhenhelistenstothiswhisperwhichisheardbyhimalone.

—ralphwaldoemerson

1

ThefirstthoughtthatpoppedintomyheadwhenweenteredtheRomancitylimitswas:Hunh?

Isquintedintothewind,droopyblondhairstreamingbehindme,feelingmorethanalittledeflatedasI

soaredoveralandscapethatwasprettymuchexactlythesameasalltheothersbeforeit.

MyguideBodhi,mydogButtercup,andIhadflownagreatdistancetogetthere,andeventhoughflying

washandsdownourfavoritewaytotravel,therewasnodenyinghowafterawhilethescenerytendedto
getabitdull—fadingintoacontinuousblurofclouds,andnature,andman-madethings,allpiledupina
row.AndthoughI’dgrownusedtoit,IguessIstillhopedthatRomewouldbedifferent,butfromwhere
wehovered,italllookedthesame.

Bodhiturnedtome,hisgreeneyestakingnoteofmydisappointedface.Heshotmeaquickgrinand

said,“Followme.”

HethrusthisarmsbeforehimandsomersaultedintoamajorfreefallasButtercupandIdidthesame.

Andthefasterwespuntowardtheearth,themorethelandscapebelowcametolife—bloomingwithsuch
vibrantcoloranddetail,Icouldn’thelpbutsquealindelight.

Rome wasn’t boring. It was more like the opposite—a city chock-full of visual contradictions

practically everywhere you looked. Consisting of a maze of crazily curving, traffic-choked streets that
curled and swooped around newly renovated buildings and crumbling old ones—all of it looming over
dustyoldruinsdatingbackthousandsofyears—remindersofalong-agohistorythatrefusedtogoquietly.

Bodhislowed,hishairfloppingintohisfacewhenhenoddedtowardtheruinjustbelowhimandsaid,

“Thereitis.Whatdoyouthink?”

Buttercupbarkedwithexcitement,wagginghistailinawaythatmadehimspinsideways,asIgawked

atthemassiveoldamphitheater,marvelingatitssize,andfindingmyselfsuddenlysideswipedbydoubt.

Imean,yes,I’mtheonewho’dpracticallybeggedtheCouncilforamorechallengingSoulCatch—I

wanted to glow brighter, wanted to turn thirteen more than anything else in the world, and I wrongly
believed that excelling at my job was the one and only way to speed that along. But the longer I gazed
upon that massive stone structure with its arching columns and sturdy old walls—the more I took in its
sheer size and scope—the more I thought about the activities it was known for: barbaric cruelty and
slaughter,blood-soakedbattlesfoughttothedeath—well,Icouldn’thelpbutwonderifI’dmaybebeena
littletooambitious,ifImight’veoverreached.

Notwantingtoletontomysuddenfitofcowardice,Igulpedhardandsaid,“Wow,that’sum…that’sa

wholelotbiggerthanIthoughtitwouldbe.”

Continuingtohover,myeagernesstolandallbutforgottenuntilBodhiyankedhardonmysleeveand

gotusallmovingagain.Butinsteadofleadingustothemiddleofthearena,helandedonthebalconyofa
veryfancyrestaurant,itsall-whitedécorservingastheperfectbackdroptowhatmaybeoneoftheearth
plane’smostspectacularviews.

Heperchedonthebalcony’sgrayironrailing,gazingdownatthelandscapethatloomedseveralstories

below, while I sat alongside him, hoisting a not-so-cooperative Buttercup awkwardly onto my lap, his
legsfloppingovereitherside,asIsaid,“DowehaveadinnerreservationIdon’tknowabout?”Knowing
thejokewasadumbone,butIcouldn’thelpit,nervesmademejokey.

Bodhi gave the place a once-over, taking in the spacious terrace filled with well-dressed diners

enjoying elegant candlelit dinners and a sunset-drenched view that bathed the Colosseum in a glow of
orangeandpink—allofthemblissfullyunawareofthethreeghostssittingamongthem.

Then returning to me he got down to business and said, “Okay, here’s the deal, this ghost you’re

supposedtodealwith—hisnameisTheocoles.NolastnamethatIknowof.And,please,doyourselfa
favorandcallhimbyhisfullname.Noshortcuts,noTheo,orT,orBigT,or—”

“I got it, Theocoles,” I snapped, thinking it was certainly a mouthful but it’s not like it mattered, his

namewasprettymuchtheleastofmyconcernsatthatpoint.“Whatelse?”Istaredstraightahead,hoping
toappearconfidentdespitethewaymyfingersweretwistinginButtercup’spaleyellowfur.

Bodhisquintedthroughhisheavyfringeofthicklashes,hisvoicelowanddeepashesaid,“According

to the Council, he’s been haunting the Colosseum for a very long time.” I turned to Bodhi, arching my
brow,inneedofalittlemoredetail,watchingasheshrugged,pulledadentedgreenstrawfromhispocket
andshoveditintohismouth,whereheproceededtognawonit.Ahabitmeanteithertocalmhisnervesor
helphimthink,Icouldneverbesure.“Thisguyisintense,”hecontinued.“Hetrulyisalostsoul.He’sso
completely immersed in his world, he has no concept of anything outside of it, or just how many years
havepassedsincehisdeath,which,bytheway,numberintothethousands.”

Inodded,givingButtercuponelastscratchontheheadbeforeallowinghimtoleapfrommylaptothe

groundsohecouldgosniffallthedinersandbegfortablescraps—cluelesstothefactthattheycouldn’t
seehim.

“Soundslikebusinessasusual,”Ireplied,withalittlemorebravadothanIfelt.WhiletheColosseum

wascertainlyintimidating,nothingBodhihadsaidsoundedlikeallthatbigadeal.“Prettymuchallthe
ghosts I’ve dealt with were intense,” I continued. “And yet I was still able to reach them, still able to
convincethemtocrossthebridgeandmoveon,soI’mprettysureIcanconvincethisTheocolesdudeto
crossovertoo.Easy-peasy.”Inoddedhardtoconfirmit,turningjustintimetocatchthewinceinBodhi’s
gaze.

“There’s something more you need to know,” he said, his voice quiet and low. “Theocoles was the

championgladiatorbackinhisday.Fearedbyall—defeatedbynone.”

“Didyousay…gladiator?”Igaped,thinkingsurelyI’dmisunderstood.
Bodhinodded,quicktoadd,“TheycalledhimthePillarofDoom.”
Iblinked,triedtokeepfromlaughing,butitwasnouse.Iknowthenamewassupposedtosoundscary,

buttomeitsoundedlikesomesillycartoon.

My laughter faded the second Bodhi shot me a concerned look and said, “He was a champion

gladiator.Arealprimuspalus,that’swhattheycalledthem,which,justsoyouknow,translatestotopof
the pole. Widely considered to be the toughest, scariest, strongest, most fearless creature in the bunch.
ThisisnothingtolaughaboutRiley;I’mafraidyou’vegotsomeseriousworkcutoutforyou.Butthen
again,youdidbegforachallenge.”

MyshouldersslumpedasIburiedmyfaceinmyhands,myshortburstofconfidencedyingthemoment

therealityofmysituationsankin.

Imean,seriously—agladiator?That’sthechallengetheCouncilsawfittoassignme?
Ithadtobeatrick,ormaybeevensomekindofjoke.
IthadtobetheCouncil’swayofgettingbackatmeforalwaysignoringtheirrulesinfavorofmaking

myown.

HowcouldI—askinny,scrawny,semi-stubby-nosed,flat-chested,twelve-year-oldgirl—howcouldI

possibly take on a big, strong, raging hulk of a guy who’d spent the better part of his life chopping his
competitionintosmall,bloodybits?

JustbecauseIwasdead—justbecausehecouldn’ttechnicallyharmme—didn’tmeanIwasn’tquaking

withfear.BecauseIwas—Ireally,trulywas.AndI’mnotafraidtoadmitit.

“IknowitseemslikealottoaskofafairlynewSoulCatchersuchasyourself,”Bodhisaid.“Butnot

toworry,theCouncilonlyassignswhattheyknowyoucanhandle.Thefactthatyou’reheremeansthey
believe in you, so it’s time you try to believe in you too. You have to at least try, Riley. What is it
MahatmaGandhioncesaid?”Helookedatme,pausingasthoughheactuallyexpectedmetoprovidethe

answer,andwhenIdidn’thesaid,“Fulleffortisfullvictory.”Hepausedagain,allowingthewordsto
sinkin.“Allyoucandoisgiveityourbestshot.That’sallanyonecaneveraskofyou.”

I sighed and looked away. Believing in myself was not something I was used to struggling with—if

anything I bordered on dangerously overconfident. Then again, the situation I faced wasn’t the least bit
normal,orusualforthatmatter.AndeventhoughIknewI’dasked,ifnotbeggedforit,Istillcouldn’thelp
butresenttheCounciljustthetiniestbitforindulgingme.

“AndwhataboutthoseotherSoulCatchers?”Iasked.“Theoneswhoweresentbeforemeandfailed?

I’massumingtheCouncilbelievedinthemtoo,no?”

Bodhichewedhisstraw,rananervoushandthroughhishair,andsaid,“Turnsout,itdidn’tendsowell

forthem…”

Isquinted,waitingformore.
“They got lost. Sucked so deep into his world that they …” He paused, scratched his stubble-lined

chin,andtookhissweettimetoclearhisthroatbeforehesaid,“Well,let’sjustsaytheynevermadeit
back.”

Istared,mymouthhangingopen,emptyofwords.
Iwasoutmatched.Therewasnogettingaroundit.ButatleastIwouldn’thavetogoitalone.AtleastI

hadBodhiandButtercuptoserveasmybackup.

“ButpleaseknowthatButtercupandIwillberighthereifyouneedus.We’renotleavingwithoutyou,

Ipromiseyouthat.”

Ilookedathim,myeyespracticallypoppedfromtheirsockets,myvoicebetrayingthefullextentofmy

hysteriawhenIsaid,“Youexpectmetogoinalone?”Ishookmyhead,unabletobelievehowquickly
thingshadgonefromvery,verybadtoimpossiblyworse.“Ithoughtthatasmyguideitwasyourjob,not
tomentionyourduty,toguide me. And what about Buttercup? Are you seriously telling me that I can’t
evenbringmyowndogtoprotectme?”

Iturned,gazesweepingtherestaurantuntilI’dzeroedinonmysweetyellowLaballcrouchedundera

table,chewingonashinygoldstilettoadinerhadslippedoffherfoot.Remindingmyselfthathistorically
speaking,he’dneverprovedtobeallthatgreatofabackup,whenpushcametoshovehewasactually
morescaredy-catthanmenacingguarddog—butstill,hewasloving,andloyal(well,forthemostpart),
andsurelythatwasbetterthangoingalone.

Bodhi looked at me, his voice full of sympathy when he said, “Sorry, Riley, but the Council made it

crystal clear that this was your Soul Catch. Yours and yours alone. They asked me to stay out of it, to
superviseonly,andleaveyoutoworkitoutonyourown.Butwe’lltrytothrowyoualifelineifyouneed
it—or should I say soul-line? And while I thought about letting you bring Buttercup along, for the
companyifnothingelse,thethingis,thousandsofwildanimalsdiedinthatarena,andsomeofthemare
still lurking in ghost form. Being chased by a lion or bear could be pretty terrifying for him since he
doesn’treallygetthathe’sdead.”

I squinted into the dying light, gazing at the long, rectangular space filled with rows of narrow,

crumbling,rooflessstructuresallsprawledoutbelowus—yetanotherancientruin.FromwhatI’dseen,
Romehadnoshortageofthem.

“It’llbedarksoon,”Bodhisaid,voicesoftlynudging.“Thesooneryougetstarted,thebetter—andyou

might want to start there.” He gestured toward the ruin I’d been looking at. “It’s an ancient ludus—the
LudusMagnus—knownasoneofthebiggest,mostimportantgladiatorschoolsinRome’shistory.Could
be a good place to begin, get your bearings, get a feel for the place … you know, before you hit the
arena.”

Thearena.
Igulped,nodded,triednottothinkaboutmyfellowSoulCatcherswhonevermadeitback.Imean,if

theCouncilthinksIcanhandleit,well,whoknows,maybeIcan.MaybetheyknowsomethingIdon’t.

Ipushedmybangsfrommyface,tookonelastlookatmydogstillgnawingthatshoe,thenpushedoff

theledge.HopingmorethananythingthattheCouncilwasright,thatIreallywascapableofmorethanI
thought.

ButalreadybettingagainstitasImademywaydown.

2

ThefirstthingInoticedwhenIlandedintheluduswasthenoise.Itwasloud.Insanely,annoyinglyloud.
SoloudIwasunabletosiftthroughit,unabletodeterminewhichworlditbelongedto—thephysical,the
unearthly,orboth.

ThesecondthingInoticedwasthesmell.JustbecauseIwasdead—justbecauseInolongerbreathed

—didn’tmeanIcouldn’tsmell.Andthatparticularsmell,well,itwasawful—unbearable,revolting,and
putrid in the very worst way. Like all the worst smells in the universe had been blended together and
pumpedintotheveryspotwhereIstood.

Imoved,hopingtofindsomeplacequiet,desperatetogetawhiffofsomethingalittlemorepleasant.

Myshoesalternatelyslip-sloppingthroughthemudandskiddingoverlargepatchesofweedsstilldamp
fromthemorningrain,asItriedtogetabetterlookatthesamecrumblingruinsI’dseenfromabove.But
all I could make out was soggy earth, crumbling walls, and … well … that’s about it. There were no
people, no ghosts, no wild animals—neither living nor dead, and absolutely no reason whatsoever for
whyitshouldsmellsohorriblyfoul.

IglancedbacktowardBodhi,halfexpectingtofindhimandButtercupperchedatatable,enjoyingtheir

own elegant five-course meal, having totally forgotten about me—and relieved to find Bodhi still
balancing on the railing right where I’d left him. Smiling and waving and urging me on, sending me a
telepathicmessagethatquicklywounditswaytomyhead.

Don’t worry. The reassuring sound of his voice swirled deep within me. You can do this. Just ask

yourself:What’stheonethingmostghostsshareincommon?

Ipaused,hookedmythumbsintomybluedenimbeltloops,andthoughtlongandhard.Crackingasmile

when I replied: Terrible fashion sense? Remembering some of the truly horrendous ensembles some
ghostschosetowear,despitethefactthattheywereperfectlycapableofmanifestingjustaboutanything
else.

Bodhilaughed.Iwashopinghewould.Itbrokeupthetensionandhelpedmerelax.Well,yeah,thereis

that,hereplied.Butwhatdoesthathorriblefashionsenseprove?

Ittookmelessthanasecondtogetit,and,unfortunatelyforBodhi,myanswermust’vesoundedlikea

shoutinhishead:Itprovesthatthey’restuck!Itprovesthatthey’restuckinthetimethattheydiedin
andrefusetomoveon!

Exactly,heconfirmed,addinga

togoalongwithit—atelepathicemoticonthatmademesmiletoo.

They’restuck,andTheocolesisnodifferent.Hedoesn’texperiencetheludusinthesamewayasyou.
Sofar,you’veonlyskimmedthesurface.Inordertoseewhathesees,youhavetogodeeper.Youhave
toseeitasitusedtobe.ThoughI’mafraidmyguidanceendshere,I’mnotallowedtotellyouhowto
dothat.

Ifrowned,wonderingifitwastheCouncilwhoforbadehimfromhelpingme,orifhecameupwith

thatallonhisown.BodhiwasnevermuchforgivingawaythetricksoftheSoulCatchertrade,orany
otherkindofhelpfulhintsoradvicethatmightactuallyhelpmedomyjob.EverythingI’dlearnedsofar,
I’dlearnedonmyown,thehardway—throughtrialanderrorandhands-onexperience.Andwhilehestill
hadn’ttoldmeanythingIdidn’talreadyknow,maybethat’sexactlywhatagoodguidedoes—reinforces
theknowledgeyou’vealreadylearned.

Ifroze,shockedbythewordsthatreplayedinmyhead.
I’dreferredtoBodhiasagoodguide.
Practicallyfromthemomentwe’dmetI’dbeenpetitioningforhisreplacement.Allweeverseemedto

dowasfightandbickerandargue—onlyagreeingtoworktogetherwhenwewereknee-deepintrouble
andalloutofoptions.

WhichiswhyIcouldn’tfathommysuddenchangeofheart.Wherehaditcomefrom?Atwhatpointhad

Istoppedseeinghimasmynumberoneenemy?

And then I remembered. Remembered the day I’d seen him with his new girlfriend Jasmine.

Rememberedhowstrangeitmademefeeltowatchhimreadpoetrytoher,pausingamomenttomanifesta
flower—ajasmineforJasmine—thathegentlyweavedintoherbraids.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the thought. I had a big, bad gladiator ghost to deal with, and

wastingtimethinkingaboutmyever-evolvingrelationshipwithBodhiwasn’tgoingtochangethat.SoI
returnedmyattentiontotheludus,knowingIhadtofindawaytoseeitinthesamewayTheocolesdidifI
had any chance of meeting him. Problem was, I had no idea how those crumbling old walls might’ve
lookedinhisday.I’ddiedwellbeforemyhistoryclassgotaroundtostudyingtheRomanEmpire.

Icontinuedtopace,tryingtoseeitinthewayitoncestood.Manifestingaroof,replacingthebedof

weedswithadry,dirtfloor—butsadlythat’saboutthebestIcoulddo.Imean,excusemeforsayingso,
butIdiedinthetwenty-firstcentury—achildofthenewmillennium—averifiedmemberofGeneration
MiniMall.Recreatinganancientgladiatorschoolwasalittleoutofmyleague.

Igrittedmyteeth,pushedmyscragglybangsoffmyface,andvowedtotryagain.Noticingasmallpile

ofrocksthatshonelikebonesinthemoonlight,Ibenttoexaminethem—tracingmyfingersovertheirdeep
crags and crevices, I closed my eyes and thought: What am I missing? Please show me—show me
everythingthereistosee!AndwhenIopenedmyeyesandlookedallaround,Icouldn’thelpbutgaspin
surprise.

Theuniversehadansweredmywish.
But instead of finding myself face-to-face with Theocoles, I found myself surrounded by hundreds of

angry,raginggladiatorghosts.

3

Icoweredinthedirt,myarmscirclingprotectivelyasIloweredmyheadtomyknees,attemptingtomake
myselfsmaller,lessofatarget,doingmybesttoavoidtherampageofangryghosts.Punchingtheairwith
their fists, they shouted and roared a long list of threats at some unseen enemy—the words spoken in a
languagethat,muchlikethem,haddiedcenturiesbefore,thoughthemessagerangclear.Everylastoneof
themwassoconsumedbytheirmemories,theywereblindtoeveryoneelse.

Spyinganopeninginthecrowd,Ijumpedtomyfeet,onlytobeknockeddownagainbyahuge,hulking

monster of a ghost who thundered right past me. Not even bothering to stop or slow down when his
shoulderplowedsmackintomyjaw.

“Hey—watchit!”Iyelled,rollingmyeyesandshakingmyheadasIstruggledtomyfeetonceagain.“I

mean,Igetthatyou’relikeagazilliontimesbiggerthanme,butdoyoureallyhavetobesorude?”

Iscowled,thrustmyhandsonmyhips,andglaredathisretreatingback.Willinghimtoturnandgive

metheapologyhemostcertainlyowedme,buthejustkeptgoing,asoblivioustomypresenceashewas
tothenoisethatblaredallaround.Anoisethatwasnotonlyloudandunpleasant,butalso,oratleastin
thebeginninganyway,impossibletomakeout.Thoughitwasn’tlongbeforeIwasabletobreakitinto
moremanageablechunks.Instantlyrecognizingitasthesoundofhungerandpainanduncontrollablerage
—inotherwords,thesoundofenslavement.I’dhearditbefore.

Itwascontinuous.Unceasing.Theonlyreliefcominginaquickburstoflaughterthatendedassoonas

it started. Though I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worth laughing about in that horrible
undergroundprisonofsorts.

Brushingthedirtfrommyjeans,Isetoff.HavingseenjustenoughoftheludustoknowIdidn’twantto

lingeranylongerthanIhadto,Iwasmoredeterminedthanevertogetdowntothebusinessoffinding
TheocolessoIcouldcrosshimrightoverandgettheheckout.

ThoughfindingthechampiongladiatorwasnotnearlyaseasyasI’dthought,mostlybecauseIdidn’t

havemuchofadescriptiontogoon.WhatlittleBodhihadtoldme—big,strong,tough,scary,intense—
amountedtonomorethanagenericstreamofwordsthatcouldbeeasilyappliedtoanyoneoftheghosts
thathauntedtheplace.

At first glance, they all looked the same. A bunch of overly muscled, filthy, dirty, greasy-haired men

who’d been sliced apart and sewn back together so many times their skin resembled a cheap leather
purse. Each of them bearing a pair of hands that were so big and meaty and brutal looking, they could
easilykillwithaflickofawrist.

It was like a never-ending parade of warriors, one fearless fighter after another. And just when I’d

startedtoseparatethemasindividuals,onewouldshift,I’dquicklylosetrack,andthey’dallblurtogether
again.

IguessI’dbeensofocusedondealingwithTheocolesthatitneveroccurredtomethere’dbesomany

other lost souls lingering in the ludus as well. Though I should’ve known since most ancient sites that
played host to horrendous acts of violence and repression were known to be haunted by angry spirits
demandingjusticebeforethey’dmoveon.

Islunkaroundtheplace,atfirstkeepingclosetothewalls,doingmybesttostayinconspicuous,stay

outoftheway,assuringmyselfthatifIcouldjuststeerclearofthejabbingelbowsandswingingfists,it
would all be okay. Making my way down the corridor, I poked my head into a series of small, narrow
roomsIguessedtobethegladiators’bedrooms.Thoughunlikemyownrecentlyredecoratedroombackin
theHere&Now,whichconsistedofeverymoderncomfortandconvenienceIcoulddreamof(andImean

thatliterallysinceImanifestedeverythinginit)—thesewereprettymuchtheopposite—prettymuchthe
definitionofbleak.Consistingofdirtfloors,severewoodenbedframesthatwereshovedagainsteither
wall,and,well,notmuchelse.Though,notsurprisingly,theroomswereallempty.

That’s the thing with ghosts—they don’t really sleep, and they pretty much always refuse to rest.

They’rewaytoocaughtupinrelivingtheirpaststomaketimeforanysortofleisureactivitylikethat,and
these ghosts were no different. Prowling the halls, yelling and screaming—it seemed like the more I
looked, the more their numbers grew, leaving me to wonder if I’d ever locate Theocoles among the
restlessswarm.

KnowingIhadtostartsomewhere,Ibegantuggingontunicsandpokingatelbows,eachtimeaskingthe

exactsamequestion:DoyouknowwhereIcanfindTheocoles,theonetheycallthePillarofDoom?

Andeachtimegettingtheexactsamereply:ablank-eyedstare,whichonlyconfirmedwhatIalready

knew—Iwasprettymuchinvisibleasfarastheywereconcerned.

I turned a corner, made my way down a series of short corridors, and had just began trudging down

anotherwhenIfrozeinmytracks.GaspinginhorrorwhenIfoundmyselfstandinginthedoorwayofa
roomsogrislyIhadtoclampahandovermymouthjusttokeepfromscreaming.

I peered into the dark, my eyes moving from the rough, bloodstained walls to the heap of severely

wounded gladiators who lay on old, splintered planks. Their bodies thrashing against the thick, iron
shacklesthatimprisonedtheiranklesandwrists—moaningandgrumblingandhowlinginpain—achorus
ofagonysoawful,Icouldn’thelpbutshiverinfear.

Itwasatorturechamber—anancienthouseofhorrors—ofthatIwassure.Thoughitwasn’tlongbefore

myeyesadjustedandIsawI’dmisreadthewholething—itwasn’tthatatall.

Itwasahospital,aninfirmary,anancientsanatoriumrunbyatiny,darkmanIguessedtobethedoctor,

ormedic,orwhatevertheycalledthembackintheday.AndIcouldn’thelpbutcringeasIwatchedhim
tendtothegladiator’swoundswithabizarrearrayofpastesandsalvesandothergrotesqueconcoctions
thatsmelledevenworsethantheinfectionsthatoozedoutofthem.

Still, even though he did his best to heal them, to my eyes it remained a scene lifted straight from a

horror movie—a scene I was desperate to flee. Bolting as fast as I could, I tackled the stairs two at a
time, pushing my legs beyond all reasonable limits, wishing there was a way to outrun the shocking
imagesthatblazedinmymind.

Finallyreachingthelanding,Ipausedagainstasturdystonecolumnthatfrontedanopen,shade-covered

room that, judging by the number of gladiators sitting on long wooden benches, hunched over shallow
wooden bowls, greedily slurping some kind of horrible, lumpy, gray porridge, I guessed it to be a
cafeteria.Andwhileunlikethehospital,therewasnobloodandgore,itwasstillprettygruesomeinits
ownway,leavingmetowonder,yetagain,atthelogicofsomeoftheseghosts.Icouldn’tevenbeginto
fathomwhyanyonewouldeverwillinglychoosetostayinsuchagawd-awfulplace.

Spying the practice arena just a few feet beyond, I made my way toward it. My hand pressed to my

forehead,shieldingmyselffromthesuddenrushofheatandglare,Itookagoodlookaround,notinghow
justlikethebarracks,thehospital,andthecafeteriabeforeit,itwasalsocrowdedwithspooks.

Theirlong,woodenpracticeswordsslicedthroughtheair,astheirroundwoodenshieldsjabbedand

punched at some unknown opponent before them. My eyes darting furiously, searching for Theocoles
among them, figuring if he was to be found anywhere in this ludus it would be here. As the undefeated
champion,itjustseemedtomakesense.

Problemwas,Iwassocluelessastohowitallworked,itwasimpossibletotellwhowasthebestone

amongthem—theonegoodenoughtobechampion—theoneworthyofbeingcalledthePillarofDoom—
whentheyalllookedsodetermined,sofearless,soeagertodestroywhateverunluckyopponentstoodin
their way. All of them sharing that same ruthless eagerness to kill, to slaughter, to shred and destroy—
burninglikeaflameintheireyes.

Iwasjustabouttogiveup,justabouttoheadovertotheColosseumandtrymyluckthere,whenIsaw

somethingsounexpected,Iforcedmyselftoblinkafewtimestomakesureitwasn’tamirageofsome
sort—makesureIhadn’tsomehowdreameditallup.

Itwasagirl.
Abeautifuldark-hairedgirlstandingonabalconythatoverlookedthearena.
Theonlyothergirlintheplacebesidesme.
Thoughunlikeme,shewasdressedinawaythatwasfarmoreappropriatetothetime.WhileIwasin

jeans, a (super-cute) tee, and my favorite ballet flats, she wore a gorgeous silk gown that draped and
swirledandtrailedovertheground.

Istudiedherclosely,takinginhersmootholiveskin,hersweepoflong,glossy,darkhair—thefrontof

which was fastened at the crown by a shiny jeweled clasp, while the rest was left to tumble over her
shouldersanddowntoherwaistinariotofwaves.

Runninga hand downthe front ofher elaborate red gown,she focused hardon the gladiators below.

Herlong,slimfingerspickingattheembroideredgoldsashatherwaist,lookingsoelegant,sobeautiful,
so graceful and refined, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she might be doing in such a sad, filthy
place.

Or at least that’s what I thought until I looked a little closer and noticed how she focused on one

gladiatorinparticular.Theintensityofhergazetellingmehewassomeonespecial,notjusttoher,butto
thearenaingeneral.

Ifollowedthelengthofherflashingbrowngaze,myeyeslightingonagladiatorwhoroseaboveallthe

rest.Hewastaller,stronger,hismovementsbothbrutalandgraceful.

He was a savage fighter. There was no doubt in my mind. But unlike the others who grunted, and

punched,andkickedupgreatcloudsofdust,thisgladiatorwasdifferent.

Thisonehadthepoise,andpresence,andarrogancethatcouldonlybelongtoachampion.
AndIknewinthatinstant,I’djustfoundTheocoles.

4

WhileI’dbeentoldmorethanoncethatIpossessedallthedelicacyandfinesseofabullinachinashop,
asfarasTheocoleswasconcerned,Iwasdeterminedtotakeanentirelydifferentapproach.

WhichistosaythatIdidn’tapproachhimatall.
InsteadIapproachedthegirlI’dseenwatchinghim.
Or at least I tried to approach her. Though the truth is I didn’t get very far. The moment she saw me

grinning and waving from the space just below where she stood, she vanished. Just poof and she was
gone.ButnotbeforeIcaughtthelookofpureshockdisplayedonherface.

Unliketheothers,she’dseenme.Andatthatpoint,withnotmuchelsetogoon,itfeltlikeprogress.It

feltlikeastart.

I wound my way past the gladiators, ducking and dodging around their fiercely punching swords—

stoppingbesidetheonethegirlhadbeenwatching,wonderingwhyI’dfailedtonoticehimbefore.

FromthisanglehewaseventallerthanI’dfirstthought.Hetoweredagoodfootabovetherest,which

isprobablywhyhedidn’tlooknearlyasbulky.Thoughthat’snottosayhewasn’tstrong,becausehewas.
Thecircumferenceofjustonebicepaloneappearedwiderthanbothmylegsputtogether.Andwhilehis
skinboreitsfairshareofbattlescars,itwasnothingexcessive,oratleastnotcomparedtowhatI’dseen
onhisfellowfighters.

Hedroppedhisswordtothegroundandwipedahandacrosshisbrow,clearingitoftheheavysheen

ofsweatthatshoneonhisforehead,whilesweepingasidethetangleoflongdarkcurlsthatfellintohis
eyes.Revealingafacethat,asidefromanosethathadclearlybeenbrokenonceortwice,wasdarkand
smoothandsurprisinglyunblemishedforsomeoneinhislineofwork.AndIcouldn’thelpbutthinkthatin
another time and place—a more modern time and place—he would’ve been splashed across magazine
coversandmoviescreens.ButinancientRome,hisfamewasduesolelytothegrislyactshe’dcommitted
withhissword.

SensingIhadonlysecondstosparebeforehereturnedtohisdrills,Iwasjustabouttospeakwhenhe

turnedtomewitheyesthecolorofdeepgleamingtopaz,causingthespeechI’dpreparedtosputterand
spurtintoanembarrassinggarbled-upmessthatwentsomethinglike:“Um,hi.Excusemeforbothering
you.” I waved my hand back and forth in a lame attempt at friendliness. “But would you happen to be
Theocoles…uh,youknow…theonetheycallthePillarofDoom?”

Hegrunted,clearedhisthroat,andhadtheaudacitytohockabigfatloogiedirectlyatme.
AbigfatloogiethatlandedintheexactsamespotwhereI’dstoodjustsecondsbeforeIgaspedand

jumpedoutoftheway.

Iglaredbetweenhimandthepuddleofick,shouting,“Howdareyou!”Ishookmyhead,feltmycheeks

growred.“Imean,seriously!WhileIgetthatyou’refromanother,farmorebarbaric time in history—
whileIgetthatbecauseofthatwemaynotbeonthesamepagewheremannersareconcerned—still,you
cannottellmethatyoutrulydon’trealizejusthowincrediblyrudethatwas!”

He stooped toward the ground, scooped a mound of dirt into his hands, and rubbed it into his palms

beforeretrievinghisswordandwipingthehandleaswell.Actinglikehedidn’tseeme.Actinglikehe
hadn’tjusttotallyinsultedmeintheveryworstway.

Iwasjustabouttoreallylethimhaveit,whenasoftvoicedriftedfrombehindmeandsaid,“I’mafraid

hecannothearyou.”

Iturnedtofindthegirlfromthebalcony.
“Neithercanheseeyou.Soplease,donottakeoffense.”Sheglancedbetweenthegladiatorandme.

“Theocolesseesonlywhathechoosestosee.YouandIareinvisibletohim.”

I frowned. Scowled. Slewed my gaze first his way then hers, saying, “From what I can tell, I’m

invisibletoeveryonebutyou.Whatgives?”

Ifoldedmyarmsacrossmychestandgaveherathoroughonce-over,unabletokeepfromnoticinghow

hernearnessonlyseemedtomagnifyjusthowdifferentwewere.AndthoughItriednottofeelsmall,and
insignificant,andcompletelyoutclassedbyherpresence,itwasnouse.

Shewastall—Iwaspuny.
Shewaspretty—Iwasforcedtosettleforcute.
Shewascurvyandgirly—Iwasskinny,scrawny,andasshrimpyasitgets.
Andeventhoughherclotheswerecompletelyoutdated,therewasnodenyinghergorgeousredgown

definitelyworkedinherfavor.

Therewasnogettingaroundit—shecompletelyandtotallyeclipsedmeineveryconceivableway.She

wasabright,shiningstar,whileIwasaplanetsosmallandinsignificantithadneverbeennamed.

Mythoughtswereinterruptedbytheliltofhervoicesaying,“Unfortunately,thoseyouseehereareas

enslaved in their afterlives as they were in their physical lives.” She paused, her perfect pink mouth
pullingintoafrown.“Theyrefusetoletgoandmoveon.”

Iquirkedabrowinresponse,it’snotlikeshe’djustrevealedsomethingnew.Ifanything,itwasjustthe

sameolesameole—definitelyascenarioIwasalltoofamiliarwith.AlloftheghostsI’dmetsofarhad
beenenslavedbytheirlivesandunwillingtoletgooftheirpasts—andbelieveme,theyallclaimedto
haveaverygoodlistofreasonsforchoosingtolinger.NotunlikemebackwhenIwashauntingtheearth
plane.

“Andyou?”Iasked,refusingtoletheroffquitesoeasily.“Whyareyoustillhere?Whyhaven’tyou

moved on?” I paused, waited for her to reply. But instead of answering, she bit down on her lip and
quickly looked away. “I mean, I’m assuming you know about the bridge that leads to the other side,
right?”Icockedmyheadtotheside,whichcausedmyhairtofallintomyeyes.ButthelongerIwaited
forhertospeakup,themoresilenceIgot.“Imean,it’snotlikeI’mgoingtotakeyouthereoranything.
It’snotlikethat’sanyofmybusiness.I’mjustcurious.That’sall.”

Ishovedmybangsbackoffmyfaceandcastananxiousglanceallaround.TheCouncilwasprivyto

everysinglethingthatwentdown,leavingmetohopethey’datleastcaughtontothefactthatI’dfinally
learned my lesson. That I had no further interest in making up my own assignments, much less catching
soulsthatweren’tminetocatch.Theocoleswasmyoneandonlyconcern,theonlyoneI’dbecrossing
overonthisparticularvisittoRome.

Still,Ifigureditcouldn’thurttoatleastmentionthebridge.Justincaseshedidn’tyetknowaboutit…

orsomething.

Sheturned,herdarkeyesnarrowingassheregardedmeclosely.Herhandcaughtinherhair,twirlinga

tendril around the very tip of her finger. She said, “I’m surprised they sent you.” She continued to
scrutinizeme.“YouappearmuchyoungerthanallofthepreviousSoulCatchers.Muchyounger,infact.”

If she was trying to insult me, well, it didn’t work. I just shrugged it right off, or at least that’s the

impressionIstruggledtogive.

“Thelastonetheysentwasmucholder.Muchbiggertoo,forthatmatter—blendedrightinwiththerest

ofthem.Maybealittletoowellcometothinkofit,seeingasheneverdidfindhiswayout…”Herlip
curledasshetiltedherheadtowardthecrowdofgrunting,lunginggladiators.Herstreamofdarkcurls
swingingoverhershoulderassheadded,“He’sstillhere.Somewhere.EverynowandthenIrunintohim.
OrshouldIsaythem.Makenomistake,it’snotlikehe’stheonlyonewholosthisway…”

Shewasdoingherbesttointimidateme,andIneededhertoknowrightfromthestartthatwhileImay

look young, and scrawny, and pretty much completely incapable of dealing with any ghost, much less a
gladiator ghost—for whatever unfathomable reason, the Council saw fit to assign me. Which clearly

meantthatdespitealloutwardappearances,IhadmyselfsomemajorSoulCatchingmojoworkinginmy
favor.

“Iknowabouttheothers,”Isaid,crossingmyarmsbeforeme.
“Do you?” She looked me over, the words spoken so softly I could just barely hear them. Her voice

gaininginpitchwhensheadded,“Well,inthatcase,I’lljustsaythatyouaretheveryfirstgirlthatthey’ve
senttotheseparts—ever.WhichissomethingIfindveryinteresting,don’tyou?”

Ilookedherover,screwedmymouthtotheside,actingasthoughIfounditonlymildlyinteresting,if

that.

Watchingashercheekswidened,bloomingintoasuddensmileasshesaid,“Though,whoknows?It’s

so very odd it might actually work!” Her face radiant, beaming, but only briefly—the illusion quickly
fadingwhensheadded,“Thoughit’sreallyquitedoubtful,tobesure.”

I’d heard enough. I mean, it’s not like I’d traveled all that way to win her vote. My confidence was

shakyenough,thelastthingIneededwassomesparklyprincessinafancyreddresstogrindawaywhat
littleIhadleft.

Ishookmyhead,narrowedmygaze,andwasjustabouttofireoffsomewell-worncliché,like:Yeah,

well,don’tjudgeabookbyitscover!

Or:Goodthingscomeinsmallpackages!
Or:Youain’tseennothingyet—preparetobeamazed!
ButbeforeIcouldgetthere,shemovedtowardme.Bridgingthesmallgapbetweenus,sheofferedher

hand,andsaid,“Still,thereisonlyonewaytoknowforsure.”

Igulpeddownamouthfulofhot,dustyairandstaredatherwaiting,outstretchedhand.Alltooaware

thatI’djustreachedthepartthatusually,ifnotalways,woundupdraggingmeheadfirstintoawholeheap
oftrouble.

Andyet,thatstilldidn’tstopmefromsmilingasItookitinmine.
I mean, it was just like she said, there was only one way to know for sure, and I had to start

somewhere.

5

WhileI’mnotexactlysurewhatIexpectedtohappen—Ididexpectsomethingtohappen.Inthepast,that
sortofhand-to-handcontactalwaysledtomefindingmyselftrappedinsomesuperscaryworldthatIhad
tofightlikehecktobustmywayoutof.WhichiswhyIwasalittlemorethansurprisedtofindusstill
standingthere,handsstillclaspedtogetherasthegirlsmiledandsaid,“YoumaycallmeMessalina.”

Inodded,continuingtobraceforthebig,dramaticthing.Butwhenitdidn’thappen,whenitturnedout

tobejustyourstandard,everydaykindofhandshake,Ifreedmyselffromhergraspandsaid,“I’mRiley.
RileyBloom.Andwhileit’sbeenreallygreattalkingtoyou,thethingis,Ihaveajobtodo.Ireallyneed
tofindawaytogetthroughtoTheocoles.So,ifyouhaveanyhelpfulhints,anysortofinsiderinfo,I’d
love to hear it. But if not …” I shrugged, figuring there was no need to mince words. “Well, then we
shouldprobablysayourgood-byessinceIreallyneedtomovethisthingalong.”

I’d just barely finished, when she did the most unexpected thing: Instead of getting mad, or huffy, or

completelyoffended—shelaughedatme.

Shestoodrighttherebeforemeandlaughedinthisgorgeous,girlywayIwouldneverbecapableofno

matterhowhardImighttry.

When I laughed, my cheeks spread too wide, my eyes went all squinty and watery, my nose turned

brightred,andifitwassomethingreallyfunny,well,thishorriblesound—acrossbetweenasnortanda
honk—wouldfind its wayout, which usuallyjust got me goingagain. In short,there was nothing pretty
aboutit.

ButwhenMessalinalaughed,itwasreminiscentofwindchimestinklinginalightsummerbreeze.Her

shouldersliftedinawaythatmadeherlongglossycurlsbounceandsway,ashercheeksflushedthecolor
ofrosebuds,andhereyessparkledindelight.

Itwasalmosttoomuch.
Almostenoughtomakemedislikeherrightthereonthespot.
Bringingherheavilyjeweledfingerstohermouth,shefinallyquieteddownenoughtosay,“Areyou

alwaysinsuchabighurry?”

Itookamomenttoconsider,thensaid,“Yes.Prettymuchalways.”Unabletoseewhatwassofunny.
Butwhenhereyesmetminetheweirdestthinghappened—alltheannoyancethatjustamomentbefore

threatenedtoconsumeme,justmeltedaway.Thefeelofhergazesocomforting,itwaslikeslippingintoa
warm,invitingbath.

“Well,that’stoobad,”shesaid.“Thatjustwon’tdoaroundhere.Everhearthesaying:WheninRome,

doastheRomansdo?”

Ishrugged,staredatmyfeet,notwantingtoletonthatIhadn’t.Notwantingtolookcompletelystupid

inhereyes.

“You can’t just rush in, Riley. If you want to reach Theocoles, you must first understand Theocoles.

Youhavetobecomefamiliarwithhisworld,thetimethathelivedin,thereasonhechoosestolingerin
thewaythathedoes.And,asitjustsohappens,Icanhelpyouwiththat.”

Sheextendedherhandonceagain,hergazeserene,hersmilegentle,butunlikethelasttime,Ididn’t

acceptit.Ijuststoodthereandstaredatthewayherhandhoveredbeforeme,actingasthoughshehadall
thetimeintheworldformetomakeupmymind.

I glanced between her and Theocoles who was kicking up a thick cloud of dust as he put himself

throughaseriesofjumpsandkicksthatweresoonfollowedbycrouchesandrollsbeforehereturnedto
thejumpingandkickingagain.Totallyobliviousofher,ofme,ofeverythingaroundhim—tunedinonlyto

thevisionthatplayedinhishead—leavingmewithnodoubtthatmyoptionswerefew.

Iwasinforeignterritoryinmorewaysthanone.Sowhatcouldithurttotakeherhandonceagain—to

acceptherofferofhelp?It’snotlikeIhesitatedthefirsttimearound,sowhywasIsuddenlysofilledwith
doubt?

Becauseitcouldhurtplenty!Thethoughtlodgeditselfinmyhead.Youcouldgetstuckandneverfind

yourwayout—justlikealltheSoulCatchersthatweresentherebeforeyou!

Still,asmuchasIknewthattobetrue,itwasn’tenoughtostopmefrommashingmylips,meetingher

gaze,andsaying,“Ononecondition,andoneconditiononly.”Knowingitwasalittleweirdformetobe
theonemakingtheultimatumwhenIwasdependentonher.

She nodded, her face appearing so beautiful, so kind, so trusting, so open, I almost felt bad for

continuing.

Almost,butnotquite.
Iclearedmythroat,keptmyhandsfirmlybymysides,andadded,“Theconditionbeingthatyouwill

nottrapme,terrorizeme,tauntme,or…oranythingevenremotelyresemblingthat.Youwillhelpmeto
understand Theocoles, his world, his motivations, and whatever else I need to know so that I can get
throughtohimandconvincehimthatit’stimetomoveon.Andwhenit’stimeformetoleave—Ileave.
I’mnotliketheotherSoulCatchersyou’vemet.Imean,nooffenseoranything,butI’mnotallthatfondof
thisplace.I’veyettoseeonegoodreasontostay.WhichmeansIwillfindmywayback.There’snoway
youcankeepmehereanylongerthanIwant.Nomatterhowhardyoutry.”

Shepaused.Herbottomlippushedintoaridiculouslyprettypout,herexpressionrearrangingitselfinto

oneofdeepcontemplationasherbrowneyesmetmineandshesaid,“AndwhatmakesyouthinkthatI’m
responsibleforthefateofthosepreviousSoulCatchers?”

Inarrowedmygaze,notmissingabeatwhenIanswered,“Mygut.”Ikeptmyvoicestern,businesslike,

wantinghertoknowI’dmeantwhatI’dsaid.“Myguttellsmeyou’renotallthatyouseem.And,justso
youknow,mygutisrarely,ifever,wrongaboutthesethings.”

Sheduckedherhead,allowingabird’s-eyeviewofthebeautifulrubypinnedinherhair.Thenliftingit

again,shesmiledasthoughshereallydidmeanitwhenshesaid,“Youhaveadeal,MissRileyBloom.”
Her eyes glittered with excitement. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to travel even deeper into
Theocoles’world?”

She thrust her hand before me, palm open, fingers beckoning, and just like the first time, I didn’t

hesitate.Ijustgrittedmyteeth,closedmyeyes,andonceagain,tookherhandinmine.

6

ThesecondbeforeIopenedmyeyes,Icringed.Myjawclenched,myshoulderspulledin,myentirebeing
onhighalert,bracingforthesceneIwassureIwouldfindmyselfin:me,coweringinsidetheColosseum,
caughtsmackdabinthemiddleofsomegrisly,blood-soakedbattlefoughttothedeath—onethatinvolved
pitchforks,swords,horse-drivenchariots,and,justmyluck,agangofferocious,ravenouslions.

Soimaginemysurprisewheninsteadoffindingmyselfimmersedinsomegruesomesceneofslaughter,

surroundedbyacheering,bloodthirstycrowd,Ifoundmyselfstandinginthemostluxuriousdressingroom
I’veeverseen.

“Wow,”Imurmured,notwantingtoappearoverlyimpressed,butstill,Icouldn’tkeepthewordfrom

sneakingout.I’dneverseenanythingevenremotelylikeit,exceptformaybeonmoviesorTV,butnever
inreallife,andcertainlyneverintheafterlife.“Wherearewe?”IturnedtowardMessalina,wondering
whyshesawfittobringmehere—notthatIwascomplaining,butstill,itdidn’tseemtomakeanysense.

Messalinalaughed—thatlovely,tinklingsoundbouncingofftheelaboratelycarvedmarblecolumnsand

walls,echoingallaround.“Thisismyhome,”shetoldme,clearlyamusedbymyreaction.

“You live here?” My eyes grew wide as I strained to take it all in—the chaise longue strewn with

colorfulsilkthrowsandpilesofelaboratelyembroideredpillows—thejumbleofcombsandjewelsand
scented oils and crèmes that littered a nearby table—the shiny, sparkly heaps of what could only be
describedas“girly-type-things”thatdrapedovereveryavailablesurfaceandspilledoutofanassortment
ofornatelypaintedtrunks.

“Andisthat—isthatanindoorswimmingpool?”Igesturedtowardashallow,mosaictiledpool,offin

itsown separate room—thewater strewn withlovely pink rose petalsthat floated alongthe top, as the
flickeringtorchesglitteredbrightlyagainstthewhitemarblewalls.

I couldn’t keep from gaping. Couldn’t keep from wondering why I’d never thought to manifest

something like that for myself. Vowing to remedy that as soon as I returned to my home in the Here &
Now.

“Thisismyroom,andthatismybath.”Messalinacrackedaslow,carefulsmile.“ThoughIwouldn’t

exactlysaythatIlivehere.ThisistheplacewhereIwasraised,Riley.ItisalsowhereImetmydeath,
many,many,manyyearsago.”

Mygazestrayedfromhertoherthings;therewassomuchtolookat,itwashardtotakeitallin.“Well,

IguessIcanseewhyyoustay.”Ishrugged.“Unlikethosegladiatorsdowninthebarracks,thisisapretty
chichiplaceyougotyourselfhere.”

“Itisnice,andcomfortable,tobesure.”Sheshotmeasternlookassheadded,“Butmakenomistake

—itisnotwhyIstay.Notevenclose.”

Iturnedtowardher,myattentionclaimedbytheunmistakableedgeinhervoice.“Sowhydoyoustay?”

Iasked,knowingitwastimetogetdowntobusiness.Timetobealittlelessimpressedbymyluxurious
surroundings,andalittlemorefocusedonthereasonI’dtakenherhandandfollowedherhere.

ButMessalinahadherownagenda,andinsteadofanswering,shejustshotmeanothersternlookand

said,“Stilltryingtorushthisalong,areyou?”Sheshookherhead,broughtherhandtohertemplewhere
shesoughttotamearenegadecurlbytuckingitbackbehindherear.“Youwilllearneverything,Riley,all
ingoodtime,Igiveyoumyword.Butfirst,ifyouwanttolearnaboutTheocoles’world,youwillhaveto
makesomeadjustmentstofitintothatworld.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice pitched high with suspicion, watching as she pressed a

long,delicatefingertothetipofherchinashereyesnarrowedinstudy—rapidlytravelingthelengthof

me, up and down, back and forth, over and over again, stopping only when she’d reached some sort of
conclusion.

“Well,for starters, wemust do somethingabout your clothes.” Shewagged her fingerat my outfit as

thoughshefounditbothsadandoffensive.“I’msorrytohavetosayit,butthissortofattirejustwillnot
do.”

Iwasoutraged.Stunnedspeechless.Imean,seriously,ifshefoundmyoutfitoffensive,thatwasnothing

comparedtotheoffenseItooktothesneersheworeonherface.

“Uh,foryourinformation,”Isaid,doingmybesttokeepmyvoicesteadyandmyemotionsincheck,

despitehowannoyedIwasgetting.“This—”Ijabbedmythumbtowardthecenterofmychest.“Thisjust
sohappenstobealltheragebackontheearthplane.I’llhaveyouknowthatMileyCyrusworethisexact
sameT-shirt when shestepped out fora latte and thepaparazzi stalked herwith a supersized telephoto
lensjustsotheycouldgetareallyclearpictureofher.AndwhileIgetthatyou’vebeendeadforlikea
gazillionyears,andprobablydon’tevenknowwhoMileyCyrusis,letmejuststatethat,fortherecord
—”

“Riley,please—”Shecutin,herhandraised,herpalmflashingbetweenus.“IknowwhoMileyCyrus

is.IcanmovequiteeasilybetweenancientRomeandmodernRome,youknow.Thoughadmittedly,Ido
choosetospendmostofmytimehere.AndwhileI’msorrytohaveoffendedyou,Ionlymeanttosuggest
thatyourmodernclothinghasnoplaceinthisworld.Ifyouwanttoblendinthenyou’llhavetofirstdress
thepart.Andlater,you’llhavetolearntoplaythepartaswell.”

“So,whatthen?”Iasked,unwillingtogiveinsoeasily.Ilikedmylook,myclotheswerebrandnew,

recentlymanifested,andinordertochangethem,Iwasgoingtoneedalittlemoreconvincingthanshe’d
givensofar.“YougoingtoputmeinsomefilthygladiatortunicinhopesthatI’llsomehowfindawayto
miraculously blend in among all those vicious killers? ’Cause, sorry for saying so, but I highly doubt
that’llwork.IhighlydoubtI’llfitin.”

Ishookmyhead,startedtomumbleafewadditionalwordsnotreallymeantforherears,butdidn’tget

veryfarbeforeIwassurprisedintosilencewhensheplacedherhandsonherhips,leanedtowardme,
andsaid,“Firstofall—they’renotallviciouskillers.”Shepaused,allowingenoughtimeforherwords
tosinkinandtakeroot,hereyesglintingwhensheadded,“Icanseehowonthesurfaceyoumightthink
that—but if you want to complete your mission here, then you must never group them so carelessly
together.Youmustneverforgetthatthere’smuchmoretotheirstorythanthatwhichyou’vewitnessedso
far.Eachandeveryoneofthemhastheirownuniquereasonfordoingwhattheydo.Ithinkyou’llbevery
surprisedtolearnwhattheyare.Andsecond—youhaveaverydifficulttimetrustingpeople,don’tyou?”
Shelookedmeover,hergazeclearlysaddenedbythethought,thoughIwasquicktocorrecther.

“No,notpeople.Justghosts,”Isnapped,mimickingherbodylanguagebyplacingmyownhandsonmy

hipsandleaningtowardheruntilournosesnearlytouched.“Andbelieveme,I’vegotmyreasons.I’ve
beenburnedmorethanonce.AndIdon’tplantoeverletthathappenagain.”

Inoddedtoconfirmit,makingitclearthatIwasnotonetobemessedwith,butMessalinaturnedaway.

Busyingherselfwithatrunkfullofshiny,silky,beautifulthingsshebegansortingthrough.

“Wellthen,allowmetosaythatitismysincerestwishthatyouwilllearntorelaxandtrustme.”She

flashedmeasmilefromoverhershoulder.“Itrulyhopethatwecanbefriends.It’sbeensuchalongtime
sinceI’veenjoyedthecompanionshipofagirlmyownage.”

Ishovedmyhandsdeepintomyfrontpocketsandshotheraquizzicallook.It’dbeenawhilesinceI’d

hadafriendtoo,anditwassomethingIwasreallystartingtomiss,butsurelyshedidn’tthinkwewere
thesameage?Surelysherealizedtherewereahandfulofbirthdaysbetweenus?

“But, until then,” she continued, deflecting my look with a wave of her hand. “What do you say we

exchangeyourbluejeansandMileyCyrusteeforthis?”

My gaze shifted, and I watched in wonder as she pulled a stream of soft, silky, blue fabric from the

trunkanddangleditfromthetipsofherfingers—theflamefromthetorches,alongwiththesoftslantof
light that spilled in from the windows, bathing it in the most astonishing, incandescent glow that left it
shimmeringbeforeme.

It was my all-time favorite shade of blue—a deep and vibrant aquamarine. A color that instantly

conjuredupimagesoflazydaysspentfloatingonabeautifultropicalsea.NotthatI’deverspentalazy
daylikethat,butstill,that’sexactlywhatitmademethinkof.AndasIwatchedhermovetowardme,the
fabric swishing and rippling between us, I knew I couldn’t, wouldn’t resist. It was far too tempting to
miss.

Shepressedthefabrictomyfrontandfussedabitwiththeshouldersandwaist,herlipspressedtightly

togetherassheyankedandtuggedandtriedtogaugethefit.

“Whatdoyouthink?”sheasked,asIpeereddownatmyself.“Doyoulikeit?Ithinkitreallybringsout

theblueofyoureyes.”

“It really is beautiful,” I admitted. Though I also had to admit to myself that it would look a lot less

beautiful once I was actually wearing it. Now that she held it against me, there was no denying it just
wouldn’twork.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really into clothes and stuff, and I like to think I’ve got pretty good

taste despite what Messalina might think. But the kind of stuff I wear is usually a bit sportier than the
dressshewasfoistingonme—adressthatwaslong,andflowy,andformal,andreallykindofimportant
looking.

ThekindofdressyoumightwearifyouwereevernominatedforanOscar,oraGrammy,orsomething.
Thekindofdressthatrequiredabodythatcouldactuallyfillupthefabric—thekindofbodyI’dlong

beendenied.

Seriously, all you had to do was take one quick look to know that we were both headed for a major

disappointment.ThesecondIslippedonthatdressitwouldceasetorippleandflowinthatmagicalway.
Insteaditwouldsaganddrooplikeanovercookednoodle.

“Um,doyouhavesomethingelse?”IpusheditawayasthoughIfounditoffensive.“Somethingalittle

bettersuitedto…well…someonelikeme?”

Messalinalookedmeover,herheadcocked,browsdrawntogether.“Thisissuitedforsomeonelike

you. Someone exactly like you, to be sure. C’mon, Riley, why not take a chance and try it on? I think
you’llfindyourselfquitesurprisedbytheresult.”

Hereyescoaxed,hervoiceborderedoninsistent,butastemptingasitwastotakeherwordforit,I

knewbetter.

Ijustwasn’tupforthatkindofhumiliation.
Ijustwasn’tupforconfirmingwhatIalreadyknew.
But despite my protest, Messalina remained persistent—she would not give in easily. “Don’t forget,

you’veleftyourworldfarbehind.You’reinmyworldnow.Soplease,whydon’tyoujusttrytotrustme?
Whydon’tyoujusttakeachance,tryonthedress,andseeforyourself?”

WhileIhadnoideawhyitwassodangimportanttoher,Ididknowtherewasnouseinfightingher.

From what I could tell, we were equally matched in the stubborn department, which meant the longer I
fought, the longer it would take me to get down to business, finish the job, and get the heck out—
somethingIdesperatelywantedtodo.

Iheavedaloudsigh—leavingnodoubtastojusthowreluctantIwastocooperate—thenIsurrendered

tothedress,allowinghertoslipthatfilmy,bluefabricrightovermyhead.

Her fingers moved deftly, quickly, as she tucked, and draped, and tied, and pinched, and pulled, and

fussed—allthewhilemakingsoft,littlecluckingsoundsashertonguerepeatedlyhittheroofofhermouth.
AndeventhoughIwastemptedtopeek,she’dgivenstrictordersthatIwastoeitherclosemyeyes,or
starestraightahead.Iwasn’tallowedtolookatthefinalresult,untilshegavetheOK.

The moment the dress was in place, she started messing with the rest of me as well. Twisting and

pullingatmyhair,pinningitinplacewithallmannerofshinyjeweledornamentsshe’dpluckedfromthe
tablebesideher.Then,afterattachingsomeearringstomyears,andclaspingaheavy,jewelednecklace
behind my neck, she told me to close my eyes—well, it was actually more like a demand—and since I
wasalreadyinthemodeofobeying,Idid.

“And keep ’em closed,” she said, as soon as I’d done as she asked. “No peeking until I say when.

Promise?”Isighedinreply,fullyconvincedshewassettingmeupforwhatwouldonlyamounttoamajor
failonbothourparts.

Her feet padding softly against the floor as she moved to wrestle with something in a corner—her

suddenreturnannouncedbythehumofhermurmuringvoiceatmyear,saying,“Now,Iwantyoutothink
veryhard.Iwantyoutoconcentratenotontheimageyou’reconvincedthatyou’llsee,butratheronthe
oneyoudesiretosee.”

“Youmean,like…manifesing?”Myentirebeingdroopedinfrustration,sureitwouldneverwork.
WhileIwaswellusedtomanifesting—wellusedtoimaginingwhateveritisthatIwanted—thingslike

clothes,andbooks,andiPods,andnewfurnitureformyroom—andthenseeingitappearrightbeforeme
likethemagicitwas—Iknewforafactthatitwouldneverworkonmyself.Imean,it’snotlikeIhadn’t
alreadythoughtofthat—it’snotlikeIhadn’talreadytried.

But,forwhateverreason,Messalinawasconvinced,andshewasmorethandeterminedtoconvinceme

aswell.“Yes,it’sexactlylikemanifesting,”shesaid.“Andinorderforittowork,Ineedyoutoclear
yourmindofanylingeringdoubt.RememberRiley,you’reinmyworldnow.”

Tobehonest,Ifeltalittlesillystandingtherewithmybodyswallowedwholebythatbaggybluedress,

andmyeyesallsquinchedshutasItriedtoenvisionaversionofmethatwouldnever,everbe.

Andyet,partofmefigured,whattheheck?It’snotlikeIhadmuchtolose.Imean,hadn’tBodhitold

methatifIwantedtobeateenthenIhadtoseemyselfasateen?ThatIhadtolearnhowtoactasifI
alreadyhadit?Ifitworked,well,thenI’dfinallyrealizemydream—andthethoughtofthatalonemadeit
wellworththeriskoflookinganydumberthanIalreadydid.

Isqueezedmylidstighter,temptedtoreallydivein,goallout,andimaginemyselflookinglikeamovie

star, a supermodel, or maybe even a hybrid of both. But before the image could begin to take shape, I
quicklyeraseditandstartedagain.Figuringitwouldbefarmoreinterestingtoseeaversionofmethat
trulyliveduptomyfull(andfarmoreprobable)potential,asopposedtoanimagemyownmomwouldn’t
recognize.

“Canyouseeher?”Messalina’svoicewastingedwithexcitement.“Canyouseethenewyoublossom

likeaflowerinyourmind?”

ShebrushedacoolfingeracrossmybrowasIcontinuedtoconcentrateashardasIcould.Focusingon

aversionofmethatwasn’tsoentirelydifferentfromhowIactuallywas—onlybetter—taller.Onewhere
the baby fat that once padded my face had made way for a nice pair of cheekbones that somehow,
miraculously,mademysemi-stubbynoseappear…well…notquitesosemi-stubby.

Oh,andofcourseIgavemyselfhairthatwasthicker,andwavier,andawholelotglossiertoo—the

kindofhairyouseeinshampooads.Andwhenitcametimeforimaginingsbelowtheneck,well,let’s
justsaythatIwasquicktotransformmystickfigureintoonewithjusttherightamountofswoopsand
curvesthatwouldservethedresswell.

Withtheimagefirmlyfixedinmymind,IgaveaquicknodsoMessalinawouldknowitwasdone.And

whensheclappedherhandstogetherandsaid,“Look!”—Idid.

Gazingintothefull-lengthmirrorshe’dproppedupbeforeme,Igaspedindelightatavisionofmethat

lookedalotlikemybeautiful,oldersisterEver,whilealsomanagingtostaytruetome—albeit,amuch
better,prettier,morematureversionofme.

IlookedexactlyliketheimageI’dconjuredinmyhead.

“So,whatdoyouthink?Doyoulikewhatyousee?Iwasrightaboutthedress,wasn’tI?”Messalina’s

voicewasasanxiousastheexpressionsheworeonherface.

My fingers grazed first over the mirror, and then over myself—hardly able to grasp the enormous

change that had just taken place. My face broke into a smile as I glanced her way, my eyes shiny, my
cheeksbeaming,myvoicegonehoarsebutstillbearingthefullextentofmygratitudewhenIsaid,“Oh
yes,Ilikeitverymuch.Ilookatleast…”Iturnedbacktowardmyimage,scrutinizeditclosely.Starting
to say: I look thirteen—the age I’ve always wanted to be!—but soon realizing I’d managed to pass
thirteenrightby.

Maybeevenfourteenaswell.
Andquitepossiblyfifteentoo.
“Howoldareyou?” I asked, looking her over again, hoping to gauge my own progress against hers,

sinceshestillappearedolderthanme.

ButMessalinajustshrugged.Hershouldersrisingandfallinginthatgraceful,delicatewaythatshehad.

“Idon’tknow,”shesaid.“Iguessnooneeverthoughttokeeptrack.”

My eyes bugged in a way that wasn’t one bit pretty, but I couldn’t help it. I’d never heard of such a

thing.Itwassooutrageous,sounthinkable,Iimmediatelysuspectedheroflying.

“MyparentsdiedwhenIwasquiteyoung,”shecontinued,hervoicesteady,thewordsmatteroffact,

with no hint of the emotion she might’ve felt at that long-ago time. “I lived with a series of reluctant
relativesuntilIlandedhere.Theludusbelongedtomyuncle,myauntwasunabletoconceiveandfound
herselfsodesperateforachild,shesettledforme.AndwhileI’vespentmanyyearsinthisplace,Ican’t
sayexactlyhowmany.AllIknowisIwasachildwhenIarrived,andwhenIdied,Ilookedlikethis.”
Sheranahanddownherside.

“So you never had a birthday party?” I tried my best to quash my surprise, but still, it really was

unthinkable, an outrage for sure. I couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Birthdays had always been
extremelyimportanttome.

Shesquinted,tiltedherheadtotheside,actingasthoughmyreactionwascompletelyunfathomable,as

thoughshecouldn’tunderstandwhyI’dplacesuchimportanceonsomethingthattoherwasjustaseasily
forgotten,ifnotignored.

Her reaction prompting me to wave it away, end it right there. We were products of different times,

differentcultures—therewasnopointingettingsidetrackedbythingsthatcouldn’tpossiblyhelpmewith
thejobIcametodo.

Returningtomyownglorioustransformation,thenewlygrown-upversionofme,Imovedclosertothe

mirror,ranahandovermyshiny,springycurlsthatcascadedallthewaydowntomywaist,takinginthe
pale green shimmer that glowed all around me—remembering how it used to glow a little bit darker, a
littlebitdeeper,untilthingsdidn’tgosowellonmylastunassignedSoulCatchandallofmyprogress
faded away. Pretty much the opposite of Bodhi’s glow, which continued to shine brighter—the green
edgedoutbyblueuntilitbecameabeautiful,vibrantaqua—thesameshadeasthedressIwaswearing.

Myguidehadleftmeinthedust.EffortlesslymovingontofifteenwhileIwasstuckattwelve.Andyet,

ifhecouldseehowquicklyI’djustprogressed,Iwassurehe’dbeasawestruckasIwas.Theonlything
thatmarredthetransformationwasthatstupid,barelythereglimmerofmine.

“Iseverythingokay?”Messalinapeeredatme,herfacecloudedwithconcern.“Areyounothappywith

thenewyou?”

Iglancedbetweenourreflections,unabletoseemydismalgreenglowasanythingotherthanwhatit

trulywas—aconstantreminderofwhatI’ddonewrong.ApainfulmemoryofwhatI’dalreadylearned.
Andit’snotlikeluggingitaroundwasdoingmetheleastbitofgood.

Messalinadidn’tglow.NeitherdidanyoftheotherghostsI’dseenaroundtheludus.Andifthegoal

wasformetofindawaytofitinasbestasIcould,well,thenitwasclearthatmyglow-onneededto

moveon.

Iloweredmylids,imaginingthewayI’dlookwithoutthatannoying,greenish-tingedglow—andwhenI

lifted them again, it was gone. Easy-peasy—simple as that. Leaving me with a perfected version of the
newlyimproved,gloriousme.

Messalinastared,hereyesbrightandanxious,playingattheringssheworeonherhands,eagerforme

toreactinsomeway,letherknowhowIfeltaboutmysuddentransformation,andIwasquicktorelieve
her.

“ThisiseverythingI’vedreamedofforsolong!”Iranmyhandsovermydressasmyfacecurvedinto

agrin.“Ifeellikeabutterflythatjustburstfreeofitscocoon.”Myeyesmethers,wonderingiftherewas
anywaytoexpressthefulldepthofmygratitude.“ItrulyhavenoideahowI’llevergoaboutthanking
you,”Isaid,meaningeverylastword.

Messalinasmiledandreachedtowardme.Capturingmyhandbetweenhers,sheledmeawayfromthe

room.“Noneedtoworryaboutthatrightnow,”shesaid.“We’llhaveplentyoftimeforthatlater,tobe
sure.Butfornow,justafewfinaltouches.”Shestoppedbeforeabeautifultraywhereshescoopedupa
pile of glimmering, golden rings, taking careful consideration of the offerings before selecting two she
then handed to me. “They’re exact replicas of the ones I wear.” She smiled, holding her hand up and
wigglingherfingersformetosee.“Ihopeyou’llconsiderthisasasealofourfriendship.”Shewatched
asIslippedtheringsontomyfingers,hergringrowingwiderwhenthetaskwascomplete.“Actually,we
arecloserthanfriendsnow,wearemorelikesisters,wouldn’tyouagree?”

Ifrowned,alltooreadytodisagree.Beingfriendswasonething,pretendingtobesisterswasanother

thingentirely.Ialreadyhadasister—onewhoIloved,andadmired,andgreatlymissed—onewhocould
never,everbereplaced.

IwasjustabouttotellMessalinaasmuch,whensheranalightfingeracrossthewidthofmyforehead

and the strangest sensation swept over me. A swarm of kindness, and acceptance that made all of my
former loneliness disappear, until I couldn’t help but think: What the heck? What could it hurt to
pretend?

AndthenextthingIknew,Iwassmilingandgiggling,readytofollowwhereversheled.Crookingmy

armaroundhersasshesaid,“Sonow,sister,wemusthurry—wehaveourselvesaveryglamorousparty
toattend!”

7

Iknowitsoundsvain.Iknowitsoundscompletelyself-centeredandmorethanalittleobnoxious—butI
couldn’thelpit—Ijustcouldn’tstopstaringatmyself.

EveryreflectivesurfaceIpassedbecameanotheropportunityformetogawk,andgape,andmarvel,

andbasicallyjustoutrightoglemyshiny,newself.

Itwasthemakeovertoendallmakeovers,andIjustcouldn’tgetenoughofit.
“Youarequitebeautiful,Iassureyou,”Messalinawhispered,hervoicefarmoreamusedthanannoyed,

herhandpressedfirmlytothesmallofmybackassheguidedmedownthelengthofaverylargeroom.
“Thismustberatherexcitingforyou,no?”

A servant strolled by balancing a long silver platter that my eyes eagerly chased. Dismissing the tall

pileoffruitthatsprawledalongitstop,Iwentstraightfortheedges,mygazedrawntotheplacewhere
my image beamed back, broken and distorted for sure—but still far more pleasing to look at than ever
before.

“So,wherearewe?”Iasked,assoonastheservantmovedon.Itwastimetogetovermyselfandfocus

onthebusinessathand.Butwithallthesurroundingexcitementandsplendor,itwasgettingharderand
hardertodo.

Therewassomuchflamboyance,somuchopulenceandwealth,somuchsparklyglitzandglamour—

myheadpracticallyspunonmyneckinanefforttotakeitallin.

Everysurfacegleamed.Everytablesaggedundermountainsofsweetsandtreatsandtoweringheapsof

delicaciesthataparadeofservantsconstantlyreplenished.Theroomdottedwithpetal-strewnfountains,
the floors covered by intricate mosaic designs, and yet despite the glorious décor, it was the other
partygoerswhoreallystolemyattention.

Thefemalesalldrippingwiththefinestarrayofsatinsandsilks,sportingbright,shinyjewelsthesize

of small fists—and the males were no different, dressed in elaborate tunics with glittering braided bits
thatswoopedaroundthenecklinesandhems,whilethickgoldenchainsswungfromtheirnecks.

Itwasthekindoflifeonecouldeasilygetusedto—easilygetlostin.Afterjustashorttimethere,I

couldalreadyseewhysomeofthoseotherSoulCatchershadchosentostay.Itwastheoppositeofthe
worldIfirststumbledupon—asdifferentfromtheludusasyoucouldpossiblyget.

“The games begin tomorrow.” Messalina’s gaze moved among the assorted guests before finding her

waybacktome.“Andthoughthegamesthemselvesareconsideredtobethebestpartofthecelebration,
thinkofthisasasortof…kickoffparty.”Shesmiledinawaythatdidn’tquitereachhereyes.“Aparty
intendedtocommemoratethestartofthegames.”

Thegames,right.Gladiators.Theocoles.Therealreasonyou’rehere.Stayfocused,Riley—sheesh!
“Sothepartyisforthegames?”Iasked,knowingitwasredundant,butdeterminedtogetbackontrack.
“Indeed.”Shenodded.“Thesegamesareinhonoroftheemperor’sdeath.Theyarefuneralgames,as

most games are. Meant to honor powerful men whose time has come, and the longer the games run, the
moreimportanttheman—orsoitisthought.Andbelieveme,theseparticulargamesaremeanttoprovide
the biggest, splashiest spectacle yet. No expense has been spared, as you will soon see.” She gazed
aroundtheroomagain,asthoughsearchingforsomeone,hergazefarawaywhenshesaid,“Hundredsof
gladiatorsarescheduledtocompete,andthousandsofwildbeastshavebeenbroughtfromasfarawayas
Africajusttotakepart.”

I struggled to imagine such an endeavor. Having to remind myself that I was caught in a time that

existed long before cars, planes, trams, or trains, all of which made such a journey seem completely

incomprehensible.

“Theytraveledonaseriesofboatsandraftsandthenwereloadedontohorse-drawncaravans,justso

they can die a spectacular death before bloodthirsty crowds that demand nothing less.” She sighed and
shookherhead,hergloriouscurlsswingingbackandforth.“Whichisnotsodifferentfromthewaythe
gladiatorswilldie,someofwhommadethetripalongsidethem.”

“It sounds awful,” I said, my voice turned suddenly serious, my mood suddenly sobered, no longer

drunkonmyshinynewself.

“Itis,tobesure.”Shenodded.“Though,ImustconfessIwasoncenobetterthantherestofthem.”She

gestured toward the glittering crowd. “Panem et circenses.” She pronounced the words easily, with a
beautiful lilt I never could’ve managed. “Which translates to bread and circus. The bread being that
whichtheythrowtothecrowdduringthecourseofthegamesinordertokeepthemfedthroughoutalong
day,andthecircusbeingthegamesthemselves.‘Keepthelowerclassesappeasedbybreadandcircus,
and they will be yours’—or so it was said. But make no mistake, the upper classes were just as
enthralled.Ionceconsideredthegamesandallofthosehorribledeathsasthehighestformofamusement.
But then, one day, one of those deaths touched me personally, and from that moment on, everything
changed…”

Istayedsilent,clingingfasttoherwords.Realizingshe’djustrevealedsomethingdeeplypersonal,and

wondering if the hint was intentional. Everything about her seemed calculated—there was nothing
carelessabouther.

Was she referring to Theocoles? I’d seen the way she’d gazed down at him from her perch on the

balcony. Clearly she’d known him, but how? Had they been close? The idea of it seemed impossible.
Theywerefromtwodifferentworlds—twodifferentworldsthatsometimesoverlapped,butstill.

“Weren’tallofthegladiatorsslaves?”Iasked,tryingtokeepmytonecasual,figuringshe’dcutmeoff

thesecondshesensedIwasprying.Shehadanagenda—ofthatIwassure—oneshecontrolledastightly
asshecontrolledherownworld.

“Yes,”shesaid.“Thoughwhileitistruethatthemajorityofthemwereslaves,makenomistake—they

wereamongthestrongest,bravest,mostfierceofall.Myunclehadaneyeforthesethings.Otherludus
owners watched him quite closely in the slave markets, trying their best to outbid him, but they rarely
succeeded.Myunclehadverydeeppockets,alongwithasortofsecondsight—agiftforthesethings—if
youcouldcallthatagift.”Shewavedadismissivehand,causingthesparklingringonherfingertocatch
and reflect the torchlight. “Though, that’s not to say that they all began as slaves. I know it may seem
strangetoyou,buttherewerealsothosewhovolunteered,thosewhosignedacontractwithmyuncle—
eagerlyexchangingtheirtimeandtalentsforthepossibilityofwinningsandglory.Beingagladiatorheld
its own unique brand of honor—they were both respected and feared. You must realize, Riley, that the
Colosseumeasilyhouseduptofiftythousandpeople,andmoreoftenthannot,itwasfilledtocapacity.I
guessyoucouldsaytheywereliketherockstarsoftheirtime—theyruledthearenalikegods.Boyswho
hailedfromsoftlivesandnobilitymimickedtheirmoves,whilecountlesswomenswoonedoverthem—
theiraffectionsdisplayedinthesmall,blood-dippedswordsthey’dpinintheirhair.”

She slewed her eyes to the side, her face taking on an expression I couldn’t quite read, and despite

hearingeverythingshe’djustsaid,therewasonepartinparticularthatIcouldn’tquitegrasp.

“Soyou’reserious—peopleactuallyvolunteeredtofightinthearena,andriskagrisly,violentdeath?”

Myeyesgrewwide.Icouldn’timaginesuchathing.FromwhatlittleIknew,thearenahadbeenasavage
andbrutallyterrifyingplace.

“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

reactionofawe,thethrillofbeingpartofitall,andnolongerabletoviewmysurroundingsinquitethe
samewayasbefore.

All of those bright, shiny people who seemed so glamorous just a few moments ago, now appeared

savageanddepraved,immoralandbloodthirstyintheveryworstway.Allofthoseservantsbearingthe
heapingplattersoffoodwerenottherebychoice—theywerejustasenslavedasthegladiators.Slavesto
thehouseinsteadofthearena,butstillslavesallthesame.

“Areallofthesepeopleghosts?”Iasked,directingtheconversationtoamoreneutralsubject,partly

because I was reluctant to annoy her again, and partly because I really was curious. “Are all of these
peoplechoosingtohauntthisplace?”

Igave the roomanother once-over, wonderingwhy so many slaveswould choose tolinger in such a

wretched,thanklessrole.Butthen,itwasjustlikeshe’dalreadytoldme—everyghosthadastory.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,tofocusonthelostsoulthathadbeenassignedtome,andnomore.

“Someareghosts,somearenot.”Messalinashrugged.“Myintentionwastore-createthecelebration

exactlyasIrememberit,sothatyoucanbetterunderstandtheworldthatTheocoleslivesin.”

“So,whereishe?”Iglancedaroundtheroomwithoutreallyexpectingtofindhim.Afterall,Theocoles

wasaslave,agladiator;Iseriouslydoubtedhehadanyrealpartinthisworld—oratleastnotthissideof
it—themoreglamoroussideofit.“Ishehere?Washeallowedtocometopartieslikethis?”

Messalinanodded,herfacecautious,guarded,herarmrising,fingerpointing,asshesaid,“Heisright

overthere.”

Ifollowedthegesturetowhereagroupofgladiatorsstoodatattention,theirarmsandlegsshackled,as

a crowd of partygoers stopped to inspect them. Pushing and prodding as though the fierce warriors
displayedbeforethemexistedfornootherreasonthantoquenchthecrowd’smorbidamusement.

I started to rush toward him, but didn’t get very far before I was stopped by the firm grasp of

Messalina’slongcoolfingersencirclingmywrist.“Notnow.”Shelookedatme,hersmiletight,forced,
not the least bit genuine. “You will meet him soon enough, I give you my word. But for now, we have
muchmorepressingmatterstoattend.Wemustfindanewnamewithwhichtocallyou.”

Ilookedherover,myfacedroppingintoafrown,notlikingthesoundofthat,notlikingitatall.Imean,

how could that possibly be more important than my meeting Theocoles? And besides, wasn’t it enough
thatI’dchangedmyappearance?Nowshehadtomesswithmynameaswell?

ButbeforeIcouldlodgeacomplaint,aslavebearingalargeclayjugbrushedupagainstme,bumping

meinawaythatsetmesooffbalance,gotmesospunaround,Ifoundmyselffacingtheoppositesideof
theroomwhereIsawsomethingsoincrediblystartling,allIcoulddowasfreezerightthereinplace.

Onlythistimeitwasn’tashiny,reflectivesurfacethatdistractedme.
Thistimeitwasaboy.
Aboywholookedatmeinawaythat…well,inawaythatI’dneverbeenlookedatbefore.
Withcuriosity.
Andintensity.
Alongwithahealthydoseofunmistakableinterest.
Thesamewayboysusedtolookatmysister,Ever—thewaytheylookedatMessalina—butnever,not

once,atme.

Oratleastnottheoldversionofme.
Myfacegrewhotwhilemyhandswentallshaky,andIcontinuedtostandthereallfrozenandstupid

andutterlyfoolish.

Ihadnoideawhattodo.Noideahowtoreact.IwasascluelesstothecustomsofthetimeasIwasto

beingstaredatbyboys.

I continued like that, a frozen, gaping mess until Messalina finally stepped in and saved me from my

ownawkwardself,whenshesaid,“It’slikeIsaidearlier,younotonlyneedtolookthepart—youalso
needtoplaythepart.C’mon,it’llbefun.”Shereachedtowardmyforehead,smilingassheranafinger
acrossthewidthofmybrow,pushingaloosecurltotheside—thefeelofhertouchstealingmyanxiety
andleavingcalminitsplace.“I’vedonethehardworkforyou—I’venarroweditdowntotwochoices,
either of which will do, either of which will suit you. So go ahead, you choose—which name do you
prefer:LauriciaorAurelia?”Hereyesflashedasbrightlyasthejewelsthatswungfromherears.“Hurry!
Wemustdecidequickly,”shewhispered,noddingtowardtheoppositesideoftheroom,hervoicebrisk
andimpatient,whensheadded,“Incaseyouhaven’tyetnoticed,you’vemanagedtocausequiteabitofa
stirwithoneguestinparticular.AndfromwhatIcantellit’sjustamatteroftimebeforehe’llbestanding
beforeus,demandingtoknowwhoyouare,andwe’llneedsomethingtotellhim,now,won’twe?”

Ipausedforamoment,actingasthoughIwasgivingseriousconsiderationtoeachname,whenthetruth

isI’dalreadychosenAurelia.I’dclaimeditthemomentIheardit.Iffornootherreasonthanitreminded
me of Aurora—the most beautiful, serene, accomplished member of the Council, who, as it just so
happened,wasalsomyfavorite.Andyet,italsocontainedahintofmyownnameaswell,whichpretty
muchmadeittheperfectcombination.

But before I had a chance to inform Messalina, the boy from across the room was already standing

beforeus.HisgazedartingbetweenMessalinaandme,ashesaid,“Messalina,alwaysapleasure.”He
duckedhisheadlow,takingherhandinhissothathecouldbringhislipstoit.Thennoddingtowardme
headded,“Andwhoisthisyou’vebroughtwithyou?”Hisgazelockedonmine.

Messalina shot me an anxious look—unsure what to call me. Though it’s not like it mattered. At that

moment,itwasliketimewassuspended.

Asthoughtheentirepartywassetonpause.
Asthoughnothingelseexistedbuthisdarktousledhair,smootholiveskin,anddeeplybrown,almost

blackeyesthatmademyheadswirl.

“My name is Aurelia,” I said, my voice surprisingly sure, extending my hand with a strange rush of

calm.

Ihadnoideawhereitcamefrom.NoideahowI’dfoundmyselfslippingsoeasilyintotheroleofa

youngandsophisticatedRomanaristocrat.Andyet,thereIwas—mygazeloweredshyly,mylipscurving
flirtatiously,apuffofairroundingmycheeks,asIwaitedtofeelthebrushofhispalm,thebriefsweepof
hislipsonmyhand—thestandardgreetingofthetime.ItwasasthoughIreallywasAurelia,andatthat
moment,Ipreferredhertome.

“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.Dacianwasimportant,someoneIshouldatleastpretendtoknow.

“Strangewehavenotmetbefore,”Daciansaid,hisvoiceasperplexedashisface,asthoughhetruly

wasstrugglingtomakesenseofit.

Ishrugged,myshouldersrisingandfallingasIcastmygazetotheside,amazedbytheamountofcoolI

displayed, though it wasn’t long before it began ebbing away and I was cast out of the role Messalina
insistedIplay.

Iwasn’tusedtobeingaroundboysthatcute—andDaciandefinitelyfellintothecategoryofSeriously

Cute.Imean,I’dknownhimforlessthanaminuteandhe’dalreadyclaimedthetopspotonmy“Top5
CutestBoysEver”list—theonethatincludedlivingpeople,ghosts,andcelebrities(andthisdespitethe
factthathisoutfitprettymuchresembledadress).

Aureliashinedatthatsortofthing,Rileydidn’t.ButasmuchasIwantedtobeAureliaagain,shewas

drowned out by the warning that blared in my head, an annoyingly cautious voice shouting: Do not get
distracted!YournameisnotAurelia,andDacianisnotonyouragenda,nomatterhowcutehemaybe.

YouareheretofindTheocolesandcrosshimover—that’sit!

The voice was loud—a lot louder than I wanted it to be. And yet, it didn’t stand a chance against

Messalina’swhensheclaspedmyhandinhers,instantlysilencingmythoughtswhenshesaid,“Forgive
meAurelia,butImustattendtomyauntforamoment.Itrustyou’llbefineinDacian’scare?IthinkI’m
quitefittovouchforhisgoodandnoblecharacter.”ThenturningtoDacian,hervoicelightandflirtatious,
sheadded,“AndItrustyouwillnotmakemeregretthepraiseIjustheapeduponyou?Itrustyouwillbe
onyourbestbehaviorandactliketheperfectgentlemanIknowyoutobe—atleastwhileyou’reinthe
companyofAurelia?”

Iturnedtowardher,myeyesbegginghertostay.Mysuddenlycoy,calmdemeanorgivingwaytoafull-

blownpanicatthethoughtofbeingalonewithhim.Imayhavelookedolderthanmyyears,butthatwas
justsurface.InsideIwasstillme.Iwasstillskinny,scrawny,quakinginmyshoes,littleRileyBloom.
Therewasnogettingaroundit—Iwasinovermyhead.

ButifMessalinasawmypleadinglook,shechosetoignoreit.AndallIcoulddowaswatchinhorror

asshespunonherheelandmadefortheothersideoftheroom,headingtowardthespacewhere,justa
momentbefore,Theocolesstood.

Imumbledsomeflimsyexcuse—movedtofollowher—butIwastooslow,andshewastoofast,andin

theenditwasallIcoulddotokeepaneyeonherwhereabouts.

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,
“Pleasedon’tleave—notwhenwe’veonlyjustmet,andIhavesomuchstilltolearnaboutyou!Whereis
ityoucomefrom?WhyisitI’veneverseenorheardofyou?”

Mygazeonlyshiftedforasecond—lessthanasecond,Iswear—butthat’sallittookformetolose

sightofher.InwhatlittletimeittookformetoswitchmygazefromDacian’ssmilingfacetothespace
Messalinahadjustoccupied,shewasgone.Andtherewasnodoubtinmymindthatshe’dditchedmeon
purpose.

8

Dacian stared at me, waiting for a reply, but instead of answering, I ran. Leaving him to stand there,
gazingaftermyshiny,bluedressasIspedacrosstheroom,retracingthestepsMessalinahadtakenuntilI
reachedthespotwhereshe’dvanishedfromsight.

Isurveyedthearea,handsonmyhips,headswivelingfromsidetoside.Seekingoutallthepossible

routesshecould’vetaken,whilereplayingherwordsinmymind.

She’dsaidshe’dgonetocheckinwithheraunt,butIimmediatelydisregardedthat,itjustdidn’tring

true.ThishadsomethingtodowithTheocoles,ofthatIwassure.

ThoughIhadnoideawheretofindhim,noideawhichwaytogowhentheoptionswereendless.Every

opening of every room seemed to feed off into another, and another, and yet another, until Messalina’s
worldbegantoresembleacomplexlabyrinth.Acomplexlabyrinthintendedtotrickme,confuseme,as
I’msureitdidalltheotherSoulCatchersbeforeme.

Dacian called out my name, my new name, his voice cutting through the peals of laughter and party

noise,asheworkedhiswaythroughthecrowdinhotpursuitofme.Facestricken,gazeanxious,worried
he’dsomehowoffendedme.

Withonlysecondstosparebeforehecaughtup,Ishutmyeyestightlyandforcedeverythingintosilence

exceptmyowninnervoice,awareofitprodding:Thestairs—findthestairsthatleaddown!Wordsno
louderthanawhisper,yetpowerfulallthesame.

But before I could make a move, Dacian was standing before me. His voice as relieved as his face

whenhesaid,“Thereyouare,Aurelia!”Hebowedlow,allowingaglimpseofhistousledbrownhair,
before he faced me again and his dark eyes landed on mine. “I hope I have not offended you in some
way?”Hisfacebreakingintoahopefulgrinmadeevenmoreirresistiblebythedimplesthatsprangupat
eithersideofhischeeks.

And at that moment, he was so unbelievably cute I couldn’t come up with one good reason to leave.

Suddenly,forthefirsttimeinalongtime,everythingI’deverwantedwaswellwithinreach.

Iwasateen.
Abeautifulteenjustlikemysister.
Andalsolikemysister,cuteboyswerenowmakingtheirwayacrossrooms—willingtolooklikefools

justtobenearme.

Iwasthestarofmyveryownfairytale.
Itwastoogoodtoresist.
SoIdidn’t.
“Please,nottoworry—itisnothinglikethat,”Iassuredhim,mygazeshylymeetinghis.“Itisonlythat

I…”Iknottedmybrow,unsureofwhatfollowed.Myvoicesoundedodd,containingastrangesortoflilt
Ididn’tnormallyposses,nevermindthewordsI’djustused.

Daciancrinkledhisbrow,tookanotherstepforwarduntilhewasstandingsocloseIcouldeasilymake

outeachindividualgoldenfleckinhisdreamybrowneyes.Thesightofhisnearnesscausingmetochew
my lower lip, my fingers grasping the folds of my skirt, twisting and turning the fabric until it became
crumpled-upbunchesIheldinmyfists.Vaguelyawareofthevoiceinmyheadthatcontinuedtoprodme
toward…something,Iwasnolongersurewhatitcouldbe.

TheonlythingIknewforcertainwasthatDacianstoodbeforeme,hisgrinsweetandopen—hisgaze

charminglyhopeful—therestwasablur.

Heblinked,smiled,waitedformetofinishthethought,soIclearedmythroatanddovein,trustingthe

rightwordswouldfindtheirwayout.Myvoicelighter,girlier,milesawayfrommyusualrasp,sounding
just like Aurelia’s when I said, “It is only that I …” Dacian nodded, urging me to finish. “Well …” I
pressedmyjeweledfingerstomylips,holdingbackagigglethatdidn’tquitefeellikemine.“Eventhough
I’mabitembarrassedtoadmitit,ImustconfessthatI’mnotreallyaccustomedto…”boyslookingatme,
flirtingwithme,talkingtome…mymindspunwiththelonglistofpossibilities.“Well,thetruthis,I’m
not really accustomed to these sorts of parties,” I stammered, feeling a rush of heat rise to my cheeks,
knowingthatwhileitbarelycoveredmylonglistofthingsI’dyettoexperience,thatdidn’tmakeitany
lesstrue.

Dacianleanedtowardme,browrisinginsurprise.“Youmeantosaythisisyourfirsttimeatthegames,

then?”

I nodded, trying not to squirm under his scrutiny while I twisted the rings on my fingers, hoping he

wouldfindmyconfessiontobefarmorecharmingthanpathetic.

“Youdidseethegladiators,though?Beforetheyheadedbackdownthestairstotheludus?”
Thestairs.
Thewordsnudgedatme,proddedme.Assimpleastheyseemedonthesurface,Icouldn’thelpbutfeel

thattheysomehowwentdeeper,heldsignificantmeaning.

“I hope that at the very least you were able to view the champion, Theocoles, the one they call the

PillarofDoom?Althoughhe’sconsideredtobefavoredbythegods,onemustneverforgetthattheyall
fall eventually. Who knows, this may have been your last chance to view him. Though I suppose
tomorrow,we’llknowforsure.”

Theocoles.
ThePillarofDoom.
The words set off alarms in my head. Like the sound of hands clapping, fingers snapping, it was as

thoughI’dbeenawakenedfromaverydeepsleep.

Or,morelikeatrance.
Suddenlythemagnitudeofwhathadjusthappenedbecamealltooclear.
SuddenlyIwasalltooawareofwhat’dhappenedtoallofthosepoorSoulCatchersbeforeme.
Messalina’sworldwastempting,alluring,offeringtheimmediatepromiseofeverythingonecouldever

longforthatseemedjustoutofreach.She’denchantedme,justlikeshehadthem.She’dgivenmethelife
I’dalwaysdreamedof—andinturndistractedmefrommyownplans.

DespiteBodhi’swarning,despiteknowingtherisks,asitturnsout,Iwasnodifferentfromtherestof

myfellowSoulCatchers.I’dbarelyarrived,andI’dalreadycaved.

IfIhadanyhopeofsavingTheocoles—nottomentionsavingmyself—thenIhadtobemorecareful,

morevigilant.IhadtobeonmyguardwhereMessalina’sconcerned.Icouldnotaffordtoletherenchant
meagain.

I had to do whatever it took to get the job done, and get the heck out. Otherwise, I’d remain stuck

foreverasAurelia—agirlsodifferentfromme,I’dneverbefound.

Dacian may hold the number one spot on my “Cute” list, but I was there to do a job—and I was

determinedtoseeitthrough.

I flicked a hand through my curls, not wanting him to catch on to my sudden change in mood, not

wantinghimtoguessI’djustsprungfreeofthespell.“Oh,well,IguessImust’vemissedhim—whata
shame!”Isaid,rearrangingmyexpressiontoappearatinybitflustered.“ThoughIthinkI’lljustmakemy
waydownrealquicksoIcanhavealook.Doyoumindpointingmeintherightdirection?”

Daciangaped,lookedatmelikeIwasstark-ravingcrazy.“Theludus?”Hegasped.“Why,youcan’tgo

downthere—it’sdangerous!”Helookedfrommetothespacejustbehindme,thespacejusttotherightof
me.Withoutevenrealizingit,he’djustansweredmyquestion,toldmeexactlywhichwaytohead.

“Oh,Isupposeyou’reright.”Igiggledintomyhand,andwavedthethoughtawayasthoughI’dalready

dismissedit.“ThoughIdoneedtofindMessalina,sojustgivemeamoment,andI’llfindmywayback
—”Ilookedathim,lookedrightintohiseyes,adding,“Promiseyou’llwaitformehere?”Spinningon
myheelbeforehehadachancetoreplyandheadinginthedirectionhe’dunknowinglysentme.

Awareofhisvoicecallingoutfrombehindme,lettingmeknowhewasn’ttheleastbitfooledbymy

story. “You really shouldn’t go there, Aurelia,” he said. “And believe me, you will not find Messalina
thereeither.Sheisforbiddentogoanywhereneartheludus—herunclehasmadesureofthat!”

AwarningIwasquicktoignore,alreadymakingmywaydownthestairsasIthought:That’swhatyou

think,Dacian.That’swhatyouthink.

9

Itoredownthestairs,movingswiftly,quietly,hopingtogatherasmuchinformationasIpossiblycould,
knowing full well that Messalina couldn’t be trusted—whatever she chose to reveal was carefully
calculatedanddoledoutinbits.Shehadanagenda—ofthatIwassure.AndthoughIhadnoideawhat
thatagendamightbe,Ididknowthatshedidn’tjustcontrolherworld—shealsocontrolledeveryoneinit
—including,forawhileanyway,me.

Pausingforamomentwhenmyfeethitthelanding,Istareddownalongcorridorcrowdedwithbig,

hulking gladiator ghosts caught up in the same, lame routine as the last time I saw them. Their fists
swingingwildly,theirbodiesslammingintoeachother—Iswervedmywayaroundthem,clappedahand
overmynosetoblockoutthestench,andkeptgoing.

Myeyesdartingwildly,searchingforsignsofMessalinaorTheocoles—eitherwoulddo—convinced

thatwhicheveroneIfoundfirst,wouldleadmerighttotheother.Imovedamongtherowofcells,rising
uponmytoesinanefforttopeerintothesmallsquareopeningsmarkingthetop,thoughitwasn’tuntilI
reachedthesecondtolastonethatIsawthem.Messalinalookingsopristine,soperfectlyputtogetherand
groomed,sheremindedmeofasmall,delicate,porcelaindollthatsomehowwoundupinalandfill—asa
handsome, tunic-clad Theocoles stood just before her—their bodies a mere razor’s width apart as they
gazedlonginglyateachother.

I snapped my mouth shut before I could gasp, or squeal, or do anything that might alert them to my

presence,gapinginwonderatthevisionbeforeme—thesightofitgivingthisSoulCatchawholenew
meaning.

Despitetheirvastandvarieddifferencesinstatureandclass—despitetheirbelongingtotwodifferent

worlds—TheocolesandMessalinahadbeeninlove.AndfromwhatIcouldsee,theystillwere.

ButjustwhenIthoughtIhaditallfiguredout,Theocolesshiftedandrevealedsomethingnew.
Ileanedcloser,mycheekpressedhardagainsttherough,splinteredwood,asIwatchedTheocolesshift

tothesideandpositionhimself,beforespringingintotheair,hislegskicking,swordslashing,piercing
theairjustbesidewhereshestood.

And that’s when I realized the rest of it—that’s when I knew that while Messalina may have been

gazingathim,Theocoleshadnotreturnedthelook.He’dbeenstaringrightpasther,stilllostinhisworld.

But Messalina was not one to give up—she remained as stubborn as I knew her to be. And from the

small square opening at the top of the door, I followed her progress as she eased her way around his
thrustsandkicks,veeringaroundhiminacarefullychoreographeddance.

Shoutingasloudasshecould,shefoughttogetthechampiongladiatortotakenoticeofher.Hervoice

fading,facegrowingincreasinglyfrustrated,whenhecontinuedtoignoreherinfavorofhisowntireless
routine.

Thescenesohopeless,draggingonforsolong,Iwasjustabouttocutmylossesandfindmywayback,

when Messalina heaved a great sigh, found her way to the edge of his cot, where she sat, legs crossed
daintily, hands folded primly, as she said, “Theocoles, I wish you would heed my words and please
reconsider.Youdon’thavetodothis,youknow.Youdon’thavetogothroughwiththis.Iwillgladlygive
youthemoney,sothatallofthismadnesscanend.”

BarelygettingthewordsoutbeforeTheocolesstoppedandturned,hisgazefocusedonhers,lookingas

thoughthelighthadcomeon,thefoghadbeencleared.Hedroppedhishandstohissides,leanedtoward
her, and said, “Your offer insults me—demeans me!” He shook his head, raked his fingers through his
bangs,fixinghisdeeptopazeyesonhers.“Doyouthinkmenotworthy?DoyouthinkI’vecomethisfar,

slaughteredsomanyworthyopponents,onlytomakeaspectacleofmyowndefeat?”

Shelookedathim,herfacebearingsolittleexpression,thewordscomingsoquickly,soautomatically

Isuddenlyunderstoodwhatwashappening.

Itwasaperformance.
Theywerebothrunninglinesfromascenethey’dreenactedcountlesstimes.
Theocoles so immersed in the role it was clear that for him, it was no different than the fist time it

happened.ButforMessalina,thewordswerehalfhearted,weary,spokenwithnotraceofemotion,like
readingaloudfromatextbook.

She’dtriedtoinsertanewscene,triedtowakehimuptoamoremodernday,butTheocolesremained

stuckinapasthechosetoliveoverandoveragain.ForcingMessalinatoslipintotheroleshe’dlived
longagoinordertoenjoyhisattentions.

Ipressedcloser,strainedtoheartheirwords,knowingthatifitwasascenehechosetorelivethenit

wasdefinitelyasceneofgreatsignificance.Itwasnottobemissed.

“YouknowIdidn’tmeanitlikethat.I’mjustanxioustobeginourlivestogether,”Messalinasaid,her

voicesoftandtired.

“AsamI.”Hemovedtowardher,hisgazeintenseashekneltdownbeforeher.“EverythingIdoisin

anticipationofthatday.Areyounotawareofthat?”

She cocked her head to the side and shot him a dubious look. “Everything you do is for me?” She

pursedherlips,wrappedaloosecurlaroundherindexfinger.“Areyouquitesureofthat?Noneofitis
forLucius?”

Theocoles paused, looked away, his face saddened, reflective, as he said, “There cannot be one

withouttheother.”Hereturnedhisgazetohers.“I’mafraidourfatesareallboundtogether.”Hereached
towardher,brushedhisfingeracrossherbrow,alongthecurveofhercheek,pressingthesoftunderside
ofherchin.Heliftedherfaceuntilhergazelockedonhis.“Nowcome,itistimewebidourgood-byesin
favorofrest.”Herosetohisfeetasshedidthesame.“Myhopeisthatyouwillcarrythesweetpromise
ofourfuturestraightintoyourdreams—andtomorrow,lessthantwenty-fourhoursfromnow,theworld
willbeours.”

Messalina smiled bravely, swiped a quick hand across her cheek, halting the renegade tear that sped

downherfacebeforeTheocolescouldseeit.Herexpressionstoic,resigned,shetookasteptowardhim
andgraspedhishandinhers,asIpushedawayfromthedoorandracedbackdownthecorridorasfastas
Icould.

10

Despitehavingretracedmysamesteps—thesecondIreachedthelandingIsawthatmydestinationwas
notquitetheoneIexpected.

Notevenclose.
Instead of the glamorous party I’d left, I found myself outside, squinting into a harsh, glaring sun,

surroundedbyhundreds—no,scratchthat—makethattensofthousandsoftoga-cladRomans,allofthem
pushingandshovingandfightingforsomeplacetosit.

“Aurelia!”Afamiliarvoicerangoutfrombehindme,asIgazedallaroundinconfusion.“Aurelia,what

onearthareyoudoingouthereamongthecommonmasses?”

Ifeltatugonthebackofmydress,andturnedtofindMessalinasmilingbeforeme,herfaceradiant,

hercheeksflushedthesamelightpinkasthegorgeousnewgownthatshewore.

“Ifyou’redoneacquaintingyourselfwiththelowerclasses,perhapswecanmoveontomyuncle’sbox

where it’s far less crowded, and far more welcoming with its abundance of food and drink and more
importantlyinthisheat—shade!”Sherolledhereyesandlaughed,retrievingagold-and-pinkfanfromthe
foldsofherdress.Shewaveditundermychininanefforttocoolme.“Oh,andyoumightalsoliketo
knowthatDacianhasbeenmakinghimselfquitecrazy,wonderingifyou’llmakeanappearance—worried
hemightnevergettoseeyouagain.Ihearyou’vebeenquitenaughty,playinghardtoget.”Sheshotmea
slylook,beforeshewenton.“Truly,theboyisinaverysorrystate.Hejustwon’tletup!Keepsinsisting
Itellhimwhetherornothecanexpectyou.ThoughImustsayit’sbeensuchgreatfunwatchingthepoor
boysuffer,Irefusetodivulgemuchofanything.”Sheliftedherfantoherface,hidingallbuthereyes.“It
seemshe’squitesmittenwithyou,now,isn’the?Thequestionis,whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?Are
yousmittenaswell?C’mon,youcantellme,Aurelia—doyoufeelthesamewayashe?”

Shelookedatme,eyesshining,facebeaming,waitingforananswerthatneverreallycame.Iwastoo

busytrying to figureout what hadjust happened—how the nighthad turned soswiftly to day—how I’d
foundmywaytotheColosseumwithoutevenrealizingit.

Though Messalina didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by my silence, she just smiled brightly,

crookedherarminoffering,andbeckonedformetofollowalongsideher.

Hersmileplasteredtoherface,refusingtofadeevenafterIsaid,“No.”Icrossedmyarmsbeforeme

andshookmyheadforemphasis,causingmythickblondcurlstobrushagainstmycheeks.“Ineedtofind
Theocoles—asyouwellknow.”Istaredatherinchallenge,notingthewayherbrowshothalfwayupher
foreheadasherlipsquirkedtotheside.

“Well,ofcourseyou’llseeTheocoles,”shesaid,hervoicelightbutforced,hereyesmovingoverme

slowly, conducting a very thorough inventory. “Don’t be silly, Aurelia—he’s the main attraction, is he
not?” She shook her head and tsked, her tongue tapping the roof of her mouth. “Everyone will see him
today, to be sure. After all, he is the reason we’re all here. Though I’m afraid you may have a bit of a
wait;he’snotscheduledtofightuntillaterintheday.Socomenow,enoughofthisnonsense.”Shetilted
herheadtothesideandofferedherhand,fingersbeckoningasshesaid,“Whydon’tyoujoinme?”But
whenIdidn’t,whenIdidn’tmakeamoveeitherway,sheleanedcloser,hervoiceloweredtoawhisper.
“Oh,you’reright.Beforewegettoallthatwereallymustattendtoyourdress.Perhapsyouneedalittle
fresheningup,no?Afterall,Dacianisinquiteastir,andwedon’twanttodisappointhim,now,dowe?”

Igazeddownthefrontofmydress,notingthat,yeah,itwasalittlewrinkled,abitdust-coveredfrom

mytimespentintheludus,alittlebitworseforthewear,butstillnowherenearastragicassheseemed
tothink.ButjustasIstartedtoprotestthatIwasjustfine,thatIwasn’tabouttofollowheranywhereuntil

sheexplainedafewthings,shelookedatmewiththosewarmbrowneyes,liftedacoolhandtomybrow
and brushed a finger lightly against it, and the next thing I knew I was agreeing to it all. The dress, the
hair,thejewels,theluxuriousboxthatheruncleowned,whichalso,accordingtoMessalina,wasthebest,
mostimportant,mostcomfortable,mostsought-afterspotforviewingthegames.

“Youshouldconsideryourselfquiteluckytositthere,”shesaid.
And the thing is, I did feel lucky. I felt really, really incredibly lucky, in more ways than one. Every

singlethingthathadoncebeenmissingfrommyafterlifewasnowinmygrasp.

I’d been longing for a good friend, a friend so close we were like sisters—and I’d found it in

Messalina.

I’d been longing for a chance at a bit of fun and romance, and because of Messalina, I’d found it in

Dacian.

Iwasoneoftheprivilegedfew.Iwaslucky,lucky,lucky.Mylifewaswonderfullygood.Anditwas

allbecauseofher.

Themomentweenteredthebox,Messalinaletgoofmyarmandhungback.Watchingwithanamused

smileasDacianrushedtowardme,wentaboutthewholebowing/hand-kissingritual,beforeleadingme
totheseatbesidehis,whereIpretendedtolistenashechattedonandonabouttheday’sprogram.

Therewerewild-gamehuntsintheworks,agroupofprisonerstobeexecuted,andbippidyblahblah,

on and on he went. Having no idea that I was well beyond caring—immersed in a land where the only
thingsthatinterestedmewerehowamazingIlookedinmynewlavenderdress—andhowamazingIfelt
wheneverDacian’seyesflittedtowardmine.

“Andthenofcourseoncethat’sallsaidanddonethenit’stimeforthegreatTheocoles,who’ssetto

defendhistitleasthePillarofDoom.AsImentionedlastnight,thismaywellturnouttobehisverylast
fight. I suspect that’s why the Colosseum is filled to capacity—he’s a very big draw. Many of the
spectatorshavealreadyplacedtheirbetsonhisfate,andImustadmit,youcancountmeamongthem.In
fact…”

Hiswordsfaded,edgedoutbytheonethatcontinuedtoplayinmyhead:Theocoles.
Whydidthenameholdsuchimportance?
Why should I even care about the fate of some gladiator slave who could very well be facing his

finalday?

Ileanedbackinmyseat,confusedbythewaythenamemademefeel.
“Did you say it was his … last fight?” I turned toward Dacian, aware of a vague yet insistent nudge

comingfromsomeplacedeepwithinme,eggingmeon.

Daciannodded.“Theocoleshasmorethanjusthisliferidingonthisfight—andnomattertheoutcome,

it promises to be quite a spectacle, indeed.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, caught up in the
excitementofbeingthefirsttoinformme.“He’sgarneredhimselfquitethefanclub,asyouwillsoonsee.
Andit’snotjustbecausethestakesaresohigh,butbecauseheknowshowtoputonashow.Injustashort
amountoftimehe’slearnedhowtowinoverthecrowd.Theocolesdiscoveredearlyonthatanimportant
partofagladiator’ssurvivalisnotjustskillwithaswordandadrivetoconquerandwin—butalsoto
ensurethatthecrowdstaysentertained.It’snotenoughjusttoslayyouropponent—thecrowdwilltireof
thatratherquickly.Bloodandgore—bloodandgore…”Hemadeaboredface.“Asyouwillsee,bythe
timealltheravagedcarcassesaredraggedfromthearena,thecrowdwillhavealreadywitnessedseveral
hoursofslaughter,andafterawhile,onegrislybattlecanbegintofadeintothenext.Arealgladiator,a
championgladiatorsuchasTheocoles,remainswellawareofthisfact,andthereforetheytakeitamong
themselvestochoreographtheirbattlestoprovidemaximumentertainment,toensurethecrowd’sattention
staysrivetedonthem.”

Ihungonhiseveryword,committingittomemoryasIstruggledtotakeitallin.Theintenselookinmy

eyecausingDaciantosay,“Ohno.”Heshookhisheadinmockhorror.“IcanseeI’vesaidtoomuch.I

can see it in the gleam in your eyes, your heart is already captured, and now it’s just a matter of time
beforeI’llbeforcedtothrowmyselfintothearenainordertowinyouraffections!”

He laughed when he said it, but somehow the joke washed right over me. For some strange reason I

chosetotakehiswordsseriously.“What?No!”Ishookmyhead,caughtoffguardby—well,byjustabout
everything.“Please,youmustnotdosoonmyaccount,”Iadded,thewordsawkward,stumblingrightout
ofmymouth.

“Don’t do what on your account?” Messalina crept up from behind me, her movement fluid, catlike,

grinninginawaythatleftmewonderingjusthowlongshemight’vebeenlisteningasshedrapedherself
overthebackofmychair.

“It seems, I’ve made the mistake of getting Aurelia a little too well-versed in the games. She’s

obsessed, I can tell. He has yet to appear in the arena, and already I have lost her to the legend that is
Theocoles.”

“Aw, the Pillar of Doom.” Messalina laughed, though the sound was not light, and her eyes failed to

shine.

“You said he was set to go free?” I leaned toward Dacian. “Does this have something to do with

Lucius?”

Dacianlookedconfused,thoughhewasnowherenearasconfusedasIfelt.Wherehadthenamecome

from?WhatwasIeventalkingabout?

Just as the memory began to resurface—a fleeting glimpse of the conversation I witnessed between

MessalinaandTheocolesinhiscellwhenI’dfirstheardthename—Messalinatappedmelightlyonthe
shoulderandsaid,“IfTheocolesshallbecrownedtoday’svictor,hiswinningswillbeenoughtocover
thegamblingdebtsLuciusowes,whichinturnwillsecureLucius’freedom,ashecurrentlyworksinthe
quarries,ahorriblefatetobesure.”Sherubbedherarms,gavealittleshiver,thoughhereyesneverleft
mine.“ItwillalsoconcludethecontractTheocolesholdswithmyuncle,whichinturnwillfreehimas
well.Itisaveryimportantdayforbothofthem,indeed.”

“So that means Theocoles volunteered?” My eyes met Messalina’s as a new understanding began to

takeshape.“Andthat’swhyyou…”

“That’s why I what?” she said, and the moment her eyes met mine, I was no longer sure. What was

crystalclearamomentbeforehadvanishedjustasquickly.

Dacian’svoicecuttingintomycloudy,vaguethoughtswhenhesaid,“Hisbrothergotinabitoverhis

head.”Hescoffed,madeaface,leavingnodoubtastohowhefeltaboutthat.

His actions causing Messalina to stiffen beside me, as I remained parked between them, aware of

somethingstirringinsideme,poking,prodding,fightingtogetmyattention,andyetmyheadfeltsofoggy,
allIcoulddowasrunmyhandsoverthedeeplavenderfoldsofmydressandlosemyselfinadmiringit.

“Theocoles has shown nothing but the greatest honor and bravery,” Messalina said, her voice laced

with an edge that was impossible to miss. “His brother Lucius means everything to him, and what
Theocoles has been able to accomplish on his brother’s behalf is nothing short of greatness. And I, for
one,believeheshouldbecommendedforthat.Nomatterhowthisdayends,heshallnotbeforgotten,for
surelythatwouldbeconsiderednolessthanacrime.”

“Tell you what—if he lives, I’ll be the first to commend him,” Dacian said, paying no mind to

Messalina’s tone, much less the stricken expression his words left on her face. “And if not …” He
grinned,glancingbetweenthetwoofusasheslidafingercleanacrossthewidthofhisneck.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t we?” Messalina’s eyes darted between us, her

responseelicitingasarcasticchucklefromDacian,andsilencefromme.

Iwasgone.
LostinafogIcouldn’tevenbegintoworkmywaythrough.
Feelingtorn,pulledintwodifferentdirections,asthoughcaughtinthemiddleofsomecrazy,invisible

tug-of-war,withnowayofknowingwhopulledatmystrings,muchlesswhichsideIshouldfavor.

“Aurelia?Youokay?”Messalinaleanedtowardme,herfaceamaskofconcern.
Aurelia.Thatwasme.That’swhateveryonecalledme.
Orwasit?Iwasnolongersure.
Messalinaplacedafingerundermychinandliftedittowardhersasshegazeddirectlyintomyeyes.

Fussingatmyhair,pretendingtorearrangeastraycurl,shebrushedacoolfingeracrossthewidthofmy
brow—the feel of her touch instantly lifting the fog, allowing the sun to break through, as everything
sprangbackintoview.

“Areyouokay?”sherepeated,hergazefixedonmine.
Igazedallaround,takingintheenormityofthearena,thetensofthousandsofcheeringspectators—

surethateachandeveryoneofthemwoulddoanythingtotradeplaceswithme.Surethateachandevery
oneofthemlongedtoclaimaplaceamongsuchluxuryandcomfort—surroundedbymountainsoffood,an
endless supply of drink, keeping company with rich and entitled Roman nobility—not to mention the
insanelycuteboywhosatrightbesideme.

Ireturnedmygazetohers,myvoicefilledwiththeextentofmygratitudewhenIsaid,“Everything’s

great.Everything’sjustabsolutelyperfect.AndIhaveyoutothank.”

11

Iwatchedtheprocessionthatmarkedthestartofthegamesinconfusion.Surprisedbythewaythecrowd
remained strangely quiet, almost solemn, until Dacian explained how that would soon change. It was
merely the official portion of the day, he told me. The time when weapons were inspected, a dead
emperorwasremembered,andthegladiatorswereallintroduced—allowingthecrowdachancetotake
themallin,knowingfullwellthatbytheday’sendmorethanhalfofthemwouldneverstandagain.

Whenitwasover,thegatesdraggedopenoncemore,settingapackofferociousjunglecatslooseinthe

arena.Atfirstroaringinfear,unsurewhattomakeoftheirnewsurroundings,itwasn’tlongbeforethey
adapted, their instincts kicked in, and they busied themselves with stalking their prey—devouring one
poor,unfortunateprisonerafteranother.

Thecrowdcheeredinresponse,stompingandclappingingleeastheywatchedasuccessionofpeople

getshreddedandguttedandrippedintosmall,bloodiedbits—pittedinafighttheycouldnever,everwin.

That same cheering failing to cease when those very same cats were later hunted and killed by

gladiatorswhospecializedinsuchskills.

Until finally—after hours of unrelenting blood and gore—after hours of watching unfathomable death

andviolence—itwastimeforthegladiatorstotakecenterstage.AndIfoundmyselfsodesensitizedby
thatpoint,socompletelyunshakable,itwasn’tlongbeforeIbecameasentrancedasanyotherspectator—
cheeringandjeeringrightalongwiththem.

Givingthumbsupwheneverabattlewastied,andIfoundbothpartiesworthyofliving—givingthumbs

downwhenIwasn’tentertainedquiteenough,whenIdemandedsomeonebeheldaccountableforthelack
ofamusement—todieagrislydeathtoatoneformyboredom.

Sometimes shouting, “Live!” other times shouting, “Kill!” depending on my mood. I was consumed

with the power I held. Aware that I was only one among many, that in the end, it was the emperor’s
decisiontograntlifeordeath,andyet,washenotboundtothewhimsofhissubjects?Washenotswayed
bytheirneedtobeappeasedfromthedrudgeryoftheirliveswithashowofbreadandcircus?

Ireveledinbeingpartofthatdecision,inknowingmyvotehelpedtodecidejustwhowasallowedto

liveanotherday—andjustwhowassentencedtodie.

And when the heavy iron gates swung wide once again, and Theocoles thundered into the arena, it

quicklybecameclearwhyhewassofavored.

Theocolesdidn’twalk,neitherdidherun,butratherhestrutted,sauntered—armsraisedhighabovehis

head,hisswordandshieldwavinginacknowledgmentofhisfiftythousandmostadmiringfans,leaving
nodoubtthathelovedthem,justasmuchastheylovedhim.

The stadium practically shaking with the rumble of stomping feet and clapping hands, I watched as

Theocoles turned, acknowledging every section of the stadium, circling the wave of praise much as the
earthcirclesthewarmthofthesun.

Theapplausesignificantlydimmingwhenhisopponent,Urbicus,enteredtoachorusofhissesandboos

—andthoughheappearedequallystrong,equallyfierce,equallydeterminedtoholduphisend—itwas
clearfromthestartthathelackedtheinnatefireandcharismaofthechampiongladiator,andbecauseof
it,thecrowdwouldneverbeswayedtohisside.Hejustcouldn’tcompetewithTheocoles’uniquebrand
ofmagnetism—hisdeadlycombinationofbravery,skill,showmanship,andundeniablemoviestarappeal.

Muchlikeeveryonearoundme,Islidtotheedgeofmyseat,watchinginfascination,captivatedasthe

battle began. Urbicus put up a very good fight, though not good enough—he spent most of his energy
deflecting Theocoles’ well-aimed blows that left him so bloodied and battered, his strength quickly

seeped out of him, while Theocoles waged on, his own wounds appearing shallow and superficial at
most.

Despitehisrival’sweakeningstate—despiteTheocoles’numerouschancestoleadUrbicustohisfinal

rest—the battle waged on, and on, and on—with Theocoles refusing to end it, determined to give the
crowdwhat they camefor, and more.He continued to pounce,and leap, andinflict wound after gaping
wounduponhisvictimuntilUrbicus’skinresembledafringeofblood-soakedribbons.

I watched in a combination of amazement and revulsion, wondering at which point Theocoles would

decidetoenditsohecouldcollecthiswinnings,therebyfreeinghisbrother,himself.YetIwassocaught
upinthespectacle,Idreadedthemomentitwouldend.

IleanedintoDacian,soovercomewithexcitementandnerves,toobusywatchingTheocolesslicehis

opponenttoshreds,itwasamomentbeforeInoticedourshoulderswerepressedsnuglytogether.

“Whydoesn’thejustkillhimalreadyandgetitoverwith,sohecanclaimhisvictory?”Iasked.
My gaze darting between Dacian and the arena, suddenly aware that he’d taken my hand, laced his

fingers with mine as he said, “Worried about Theocoles, are you?” His voice teased at my ear as he
leaned even closer. “Not to worry—he’s just doing what he does best. He’s playing the crowd. He’s
givingustheshowthathe’sknownfor,andithasn’tfailedhimyet.”Hemotionedtowardthearena,where
Theocoles, having removed his studded steel helmet and tossed it aside, shook his long, shaggy hair in
acknowledgmentofhistensofthousandsofroaringfans.“He’saddictedtotheapplause.Needsitasmuch
as a flower needs rain. He knows this is it. He’s all too aware that after today he’ll never again claim
centerstage.They’lltalkabouthimforawhile,recounteachmoveofhisvictory,butsoonenoughtheir
attentionswillbegintowane,justliketheyalwaysdo.And,oncethathappens,itwon’tbelonguntilthe
memoryofTheocolesfadesintooblivion,asanotherchampionrisesupinhisplace.And,despitewhat
Messalina prefers to think, one day the great champion, the Pillar of Doom, will be reduced to nothing
more than a ghost of a memory, with no lasting proof that he ever existed. I’m sure on some level,
Theocoles is all too aware of that, and so, it’s for that very reason that he’s determined to milk it—to
gleanallfromthismomentthathepossiblycan.”

“Milkit?”IpeeredatDacian,strugglingtodecidewhyIwassostruckbythephrase,especiallywith

alltheotherthingsthatwerehappening.Aboywasholdingmyhand!Therewasmajorbloodshedinthe
arena!Still,hiswordsnudgedatme,theyjustdidn’tblend,didn’tquitemeshwiththekindsofwordshe
usuallyused.

Dacianlookedatme.AssumingIdidn’tunderstanditsmeaning,hesaid,“Imeanhewantstoseizethe

moment—hewantstosqueezeitforallthatit’sworth.Muchasonemightsqueezeagoat’sudderforits
milk—”

“Gotit,”Isaid,stealingachancetoremovemyhandfromhis.Iwassuddenlyjumpy,testy,something

nudgingattheedgeofmymemory,thoughIhadnoideawhatitcouldbe,noideawhyIwasfeelingthat
way.

The crowd roared, dragging my attention back to the arena, eager to catch up on all that I’d missed.

WatchingasTheocoleslopedarounditsperimeter,swordandshieldoutstretchedtoeitherside—proving
that,onceagain,Dacianwasright.Theocoleslovedtheadulation.ThrivedonitfromwhatIcouldsee.He
wasdefinitelymilkingit,tobesure.Hewouldn’tgoeasily.

I glanced around the box, noting how, just like me, everyone else was on the edge of their seats,

includingtheemperorwho’dpushedasidehisheapingplatterofwineandgrapesinordertodirecthis
full attention to the games, while Messalina’s uncle, the owner of the ludus, the owner of Theocoles,
stoodofftohisside,mumblingalongstreamofwordsunderhisbreaththatIcouldn’tquitehear.

ThoughwhenIlookedatMessalina,Icouldn’thelpbutnoticehowherreactiondifferedfromtherest.

Whileeveryoneelsewasinfull-onnail-bitingmode,she’dalreadyturnedaway,refusingtolook.Despite
thefactthatasidefromLuciusandTheocoles,shehadthemostridingontheoutcome.

ThoughamomentlaterwhenDacianreachedformyhand,thethoughtslippedaway.TheonlythingI

wasconsciousofwasthetentativewayhisfingerslacedwithmineashisfaceveeredclose,thencloser
stillashesaid,“He’sgettingready.It’salmostover.Andtrustme,youwillnotwanttomissthis.”

Werosetoourfeet,everyonedid.Acrowdofpeopleallpushingforward,strainingtogetabetterlook

asTheocolesfinallyturnedhisbackonthecrowdandapproachedhisseverelywoundedopponent,who,
despitethegraveconditionhewasin,despitethefactthathecouldbarelygatherenoughstrengthtostand,
refusedtofall.Alltooawarethatimminentdeathwaswellonitsway,hewasdeterminedtodienobly,
bravely,adeathworthyofagladiator.Hewouldnotgiveinwithoutonefinalfight.

“Kill!”Iyelled,followingtheleadofthecrowd,mythumbpointingdownasdidDacian’sbesideme.

The word shouted over and over again in one long, rhythmic chant—the soundtrack of a bloodthirsty
crowd.

Theocolesturned,lettingusknowhe’dacknowledgedtheword,andthatheplannedtoobligeusatthe

firstsignoftheemperor’sbidding.

ButwhileTheocoleswasfacingus,hisopponenthadtakentheopportunitytoregroup,tomakeonelast

stabatvictory,oratleastdietrying.

Stumblingforward,heusedwhateverremainingstrengthhehadtotakeonelast,wildswingwithhis

blade.Itssharp,pointededgeclippingTheocolesatthebackofhiskneeswhereitslicedwideanddeep.
Causing him to stagger, to sag toward the sand, his sword and shield having slipped from his fingers,
abandonedathisside.

His hands grasped at the air as he tilted erratically, body swaying, face bearing an expression of

unmistakable shock when he found himself falling, collapsing, his once celebrated form no more than a
bloody,lameheap.

Thecrowdhushedintoastrange,eeriesilence,needingamomenttoadapttosuchanunexpectedturn

of events, as I did the same. My hand clamped over my mouth, unable to believe what I saw unfolding
beforeme,vaguelyawareofDacianslidingacomfortingarmaroundmywaist.

We moved forward, rushed to the edge of the box, as did everyone around us—Rome’s finest all

bunched up together, eyes bulging, necks craning, eager to see what terrible, unexpected thing might
happennext.

Theocoles struggled to rise, but his wounds were too deep, his muscles now sliced in half were no

longerworking.Hefellontohisback,staringincompletedisbeliefashisbatteredandbloodiedopponent
toweredoverhimwithhisswordraisedhigh,ready,willing,waitingforthatonesimplewordthatwould
allowhimtoclaimcertainvictorybyplungingitdeepintoTheocoles’throat.

Not expecting Theocoles to turn, to use whatever strength he had left to roll onto his side—his eyes

franticallysearchingforMessalina’s—longingtoapologize,tosayafinalgood-bye.

Thatonesinglelookcontainingsomuchlonging,somuchmeaning,somuchregret,Icouldn’tstopthe

crystallinetearsthatrolleddownmycheeks.

ButthecrowdfailedtoseewhatIsaw.
Theymisreadthewholething.
KnowingonlythatTheocoleshadturnedhisbackonhisopponent,theymistookhisfinalgood-byefor

anactofcowardice.

Furioustolearnthatthemantheyonceheldastheirherowasneithernobleenough,norbraveenough,

tofacehisowndeath(anactthatcouldnot,wouldnotbetolerated—anactthatwentagainsteverythinga
gladiatorstoodfor),theywerequicktoturnagainsthim.

Tens of thousands of mouths that just a moment ago had hung silent in shock, were now fueled with

revenge,shoutingtheverdictof:“Kill!”overandoveragain.

Thedemandsooverwhelming,soallconsuming,theemperorwasquicktonodhisconsent.
The crowd pressed tighter, causing my head to grow foggy as I gasped for each breath. Swallowing

mouthfulsofaironlytorealizeIdidn’texhale.

Ihadnoneedofit—noneedtobreathe.
A vague awareness of something tugging at the edge of my memory—something about me—about

Theocoles—thoughIhadnoideawhatitcouldbe.

WhilemyfellowRomanswereabsorbedwiththearena,eagertoseethemightyTheocoles,thePillar

ofDoom,meethisend,IturnedtowardMessalina,lookingforguidance,hopingshemightbeabletotell
mewhyIwasnolongerdependentonair.

ButMessalinawasgone.AndasIstaredhardatthespacewhereshestood,thefogcleared,andIwas

sprungfrommytrance.

12

IslippedawayfromDacian,pushedpasttheRomannoblesstandingbeforeme,andleapedashighasI
could.ImmunetothesoundofDacian’sfranticvoicecallingoutfrombehindme,Igrippedthesidesofmy
gown,buncheditupinmyhands,andhurtledrightovertheedgeofthebox.Landingontheshouldersofa
startled,andnotsohappytoga-cladman,Ievadedhisangry,outstretchedhands,andfoundmywaytothe
ground.WindingmywaytothecenterofthearenawhereIglancedbetweenaheadlessTheocoleslying
proneonthesand,andthecompletelyintact,somewhatfilmierversionthatstoodalongsidehim,staring
downathisformerbodyinamixtureoflossandconfusion.

“Theocoles.” I tugged hard on his hand, knowing I had to move fast. I had no idea where Messalina

might’vegone,butIcouldonlyassumeshewouldn’tstaygonefortoolong.“Theocoles,please,you’ve
gottolistentome.You’vegottorealizethatyou’redead.It’sover.Thebattlewaslostandthereisno
goingback.AndwhileI’mtrulysorryforwhathappenedtoyou,whileI’mtrulysorrythatyouhadtogo
insuchatotallygruesome,violentway,it’stimeforyoutoputallofthatbehindyouandmoveon.There’s
abetterplaceforyou—amuchbetterplace,whereyoutrulybelong.Andifyou’lljustallowmeto—”

He turned toward me, his deep topaz eyes staring hard into mine, as though he really did see me, as

thoughhereallydidhearme—andwhilemyfacebeamedwithvictory,Idecidedtosavethecelebration
forlater.First,Ihadtoseethisthingthrough.

“Whoisthat?”heasked,hisvoicelikeawhisperashegazeddownathispoormangledbody.
“It’syou,”Itoldhim,myvoiceequallysoft,sympathetic,knowingfirsthandjusthowshockingitcanbe

to see such a thing, to make the transition between life and death. “That’s what happened to your body.
AndwhileI’mtrulysorryforthat,asyoucansee,themostessentialpartofyoucontinuestoexist.It’snot
overforyou,Theocoles,notevenclose.”

Hemovedtowardhiscorpse,kneelingbesideitasIdidthesame.Thoughunlikehim,Ididmybestnot

tolookatit,andIdefinitelydidn’ttouchitlikehedid—itwaswaytoogruesometoevenconsider.Imay
havebeenenthralledwithallthebloodandgorewhenIwasAurelia,butreturnedtomyself,Iwasnot
onlygrossedout,butdeeplyashamedbythewayI’dgottensoeasilysuckedin—thewayI’dsoeagerly
shouted “Live!” and “Kill!” along with the rest of them. I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen
again.

Imean,seriously,itwasprettymuchthekindofthingyouseeinhorrormovies—thekindofmovies

that,whenIwasaliveanyway,Iwasforbiddentowatch.MyparentsassuringmethatIwastooyoung,
thatI’dbehauntedbynightmares,andyet,sincethemomentIbecameaSoulCatcherI’dbeenforcedto
witnessallmannerofgrisly,gorygruesomeness—thekindofstuffthatpushedmygagreflexbeyondall
reasonablelimits.

That’sit,Ithought.AssoonasthisbusinesswithTheocolesisover,I’mschedulinganice,longtalk

withtheCouncilaboutmoreage-appropriateassignments!

ThoughitwasonlyasecondlaterwhenIrememberedhowIfoundmyselfthere—Iwastheonewho

practicallybeggedformoredifficultSoulCatches.

“Be careful what you wish for,” my mom used to say. And when I gazed down at the disgusting,

headlessbodybeforemeIknewitwastrue.

Theocoles turned away from his corpse and gazed after his opponent. Watching as Urbicus was

practically dragged from the arena, left in such a sorry state I couldn’t help but think he was moments
awayfrommeetinghisownafterlife.

“Andwhatbecomesofhim?”Theocolesmumbled,almostasthoughspeakingtohimself.

I glanced between the two of them, shrugging as I said, “He’ll succumb to his own death eventually.

Andfromthelooksofit,I’dguesssoonerratherthanlater.Intheend,nomatterhowhardwemaytryto
avoidit,allofusgo.Thebodyistemporary,butthesoulneverdies.”

I sat back in surprise, realizing that for probably the first time ever, my words didn’t contain even a

traceofthegrudgeIonceusedtoholdovermyownearlydemise.IwasjuststatingthefactsasIknew
them, without any of my usual animosity. I’d finally reached the point where I no longer took my death
personally.

“Wherearetheroses?”heasked,browsmerginginconfusionasheglancedfromthecrowdtothesand

that,insteadoftheflowershewasusedto,wasscatteredwithchunksofskinandblood,andgawdknows
whatelse.“Theyalwaysthrowroses.Thecrowdlovesmeandthat’showtheyshowtheirloveforme.
Theyshowermewithrosepetals,thousandsandthousandsofredrosepetalsthatIcollectinmyhands
and crush into my palms, so that I can carry the scent back into the barracks with me and relive the
memory.”

“Sorry,”Isaid.“Iguesstheyforgot.”WonderingifIshouldtrytomanifestsomerosepetalsrealquick

soIcouldspreadthemaboutandmakehimfeelbetter,thenquicklydecidedagainstit.

Itwasbetternottocoddlehim.Betterforhimtofacethefacts,nomatterhowbrutal.Facingthetruth

wasanimportantpartoftheprocess.Itwouldhelphimmoveon,somethinghedesperatelyneededtodo
—soonerratherthanlaterifIhadanysayinit.

“Theyhaveturnedagainstme.”Hiseyesgrewwide,frantic,astherealityofhissituationsankin.“I

havelosttheiradoration—theirfavor!”Hegazedaroundwildlyasthoughsearchingforawaytoremedy
it.“Iamtheirchampion—theirPillarofDoom—howdaretheyforgetthat?”

Hisvoicecrackedashejumpedtohisfeet.Retrievinghishelmethewaveditatthecrowdinaneffort

togettheirattention,beforehejammeditbackontohishead.

“Iwillwinthemback!Iwillregaintheirfavor!IfitisthelastthingIdo,Iwillheartheroaroftheir

approval—Iwillbaskinthethunderoftheirapplauseonceagain!”

Ohboy.
Igottomyfeetandstoodalongsidehim,saying,“Uh,Theocoles,seriously,youreallyneedtorethink

this.”Ireachedtowardhim,myhandgrasping,reaching,onlytowatchinastonishmentashemovedright
past me, kicked a cloud of sand right into my face as he reached for his sword, and slumped into a
crouchingposition.

“Okay,youknowwhat?”Iscowled,clearingmyfaceanddressofdisgusting,bloody,squishychunksof

I-don’t-want-to-know-what.“That’senough!Imeanit.Idon’tcarewhoyouthinkyouare—Idon’tcareif
you’rethechampionofthisarena—Idon’tcareifyou’rethechampionofthewholeentireworld—you
cannotspitatme!Youcannotkickchunked-upsandinmyface!Really,Iamsonotjoking.Idon’tcare
what time you come from, I don’t care that you’re used to living like a barbarian, it is absolutely,
positively, not okay to disregard me like that! Do you hear me?” I placed my hands on my hips, and
waitedforareply.DirectingthequestionathimonceagainwhenIshouted,“Isaid:Do.You.Hear.Me?”

Hiseyesmetmine,andinthatmomentIknewI’dconnected.IknewI’dfinallybrokenthroughtohim.
Theocoleshadheardme.
He’dseenme.
I’djustaccomplishedwhatnootherSoulCatcherbeforemewasabletodo.
I’dbrokenhimfreeofhistrance.
Imovedtowardhim,mypalmopeninoffering,reachingforhis.Knowingitwasjustamatteroftime

beforeImadethatglisteninggoldenveilthatwouldleadhimtothebridge,towherehebelonged.

Myvoicechokedwiththethrillofvictory,Igazedintohiseyesandsaid,“Theocoles,come.Itistime

foryoutomoveon.”

13

Theocolesleanedforward,hisfingersflexing,straining,movingtoward…hissword.

Firsthegrabbedhissword.
Thenhereachedforhisshield.
Istoodthere,gapinginamixtureofconfusedoutragedindignationwhenMessalinaappeared.
“We’vebeenoverthis,Riley.Theocoleshearsonlywhathechoosestohear.And,justsoyouknow,

whenhefinallydoesbreakoutofhisspell,itwon’tbebecauseofyou.Itwillbebecauseofme.”

Shemovedtowardme,avisioninpinkwithaferalsmilethatwidenedhercheeks,asasavagegleam

shoneinhereye.

AndallIcouldthinkwas:Run!Resist!Donotlethertouchyou!Donotletherenchantyouagain!
Butitwasnouse.
WellbeforeIcouldmove,wellbeforeIcouldgetmybodyincahootswithmyhead,sheleanedtoward

me,herlong,coolfingerssweepingthespacejustnorthofmybrow,onceagainpretendingtotameastray
curlthathadfallenoutofplace.

AndthenextthingIknewIwasstandinginthemiddleofaloudandcrowdedroom.Mycheeksflushed,

mygazeshylyavoidingthatofaverycuteboywhograspedholdofmyhand.

AboywhointroducedhimselfasDacian.
AboywhoseemedtothinkmynamewasAurelia.
Andmaybeitwas.Icouldn’tbesure,whentherewasnoonearoundtodisputeit.
“WhyhaveInotseenyoubefore?”heasked,hiseyesshiningwithunrestrainedinterest.
Iduckedmyhead,gazedupathimthroughmytangleoflashes,myvoicebearingthefullextentofmy

confusionwhenIsaid,“Butyouhave.”OnlytowatchhimshakehisheadandimmediatelydiscardwhatI
said.

“Trustme,Iwouldnothaveforgottensuchathing.Thereisnowaysuchabeautyasyourswouldever

escapeme.”

Me?Abeauty?
Igazeddownatmyself,smoothedmypalmsdownthefrontofmygown,shockedtoseeIpossessedthe

kindofbodythatIonceonlydreamedof.Andiftheheftandweightoftheblondcurlsthatbouncedonmy
shoulderswasanythingtogoby,thenchanceswereIjustmightbeasbeautifulandradiantasthelavender
dressthatIwore.

Ileanedover,peeringintotheelaborate,tieredfountainbesideme,greedilysearchingforatraceofmy

own reflection, and relaxing when I found my face beaming back in a series of ripples. The image
unsteady,wavering,butstillconfirmingDacian’swordstobetrue.

And yet, if what Dacian said was true—if my name really was Aurelia—if I really was a beautiful,

teenagedgirl—thenwhydiditallfeelsostrange?

Whydiditallseemsounreal,likesomekindofdream?Theboy—thebody—theface—thedress—the

strange-sounding name which he called me—it all seemed as unstable as the image I’d seen in the
fountain.

Itmustbetheparty.Itmustbethelargecrowdofpeopleandallofthenoisethatwentwithit.Iwasn’t

usedtosuchthings.Iwasn’tusedtofeelingsocramped,andhemmedin.Ineededair,neededthenight
sky,alongwiththestars,andthemoon,andallthatwentwithit.

“ItrustIcanleaveyouinDacian’scare?”Messalinasmiled,hergazedancingbetweenus.
Iblinked.Wonderingwhereshehadcomefrom.Ididn’trememberseeingherarrive.Itwasasthough

she’dappearedoutofnowhere.

“ItrustthatIcancountonDaciantobeonhisverybestbehaviorwhenIleavemydearestfriendinhis

care?”

Messalina and I were friends. Right. It was all becoming clear. We were good friends. Best friends.

Shelentmethedress,alongwiththejewelryIwore.Sheevenfixedmyhair,pinneditwithjewels—the
twoofussuchclosefriendswewerealmostlikesisters.

“Don’tgo!”Isaid.OratleastItriedtosayit,butthewordsrefusedtocooperate,andwereinstantly

replaced with, “I assure you I will be fine. If Dacian dares to get the slightest bit out of hand, I will
summononeofthegladiatorstotakecareofhim.”Ismiledflirtatiously,myeyesshiningwithlaughterasI
glancedbetweenthem.“Infact”—Imadeapointofpoutingprettily—“Iwilldoonebetterthanthat.Iwill
choose that giant, hulking gladiator right over there.” I pointed toward the opposite side of the room,
wherethetallest,mostfierce,mosthandsomegladiatorstoodwithhishandsandlegsshackledtothose
whostoodalongsidehim,ensuringtheywouldn’tdoanythingreckless,ensuringthepartygoers,thefinest
ofRomannobility,didnotexperiencearepeatofthelegendaryrevoltthatwasonceledbySpartacus.“I
willelicitthehelpoftheonetheycallthePillarofDoom.IthinkthethreataloneislikelytokeepDacian
subdued,no?”Ishothimaninvitingsmile,eagertohearhisreply.

“YouwouldsicTheocolesonme?”Daciansaid,hisfaceamaskofmockhorrorasMessalinagiggled

besidehim.

Theocoles.
Whatwasitaboutthatnamethatmademefeelsooddinside?
IglancedatMessalina,myfriend,mydearestfriend,thenshakingmyhead,Iridmyselfofanylingering

doubtsasIgraspedherhandinmineandsaid,“Go!Gocheckinwithyouraunt,please.Iamsurethat
withthethreatofTheocoleshangingoverhim—”Ipausedonthename,hadtoforcemyselftomoveon.
“Well,I’msureDaciancanbecountedontobehavenow,can’the?”

Dacian laughed in a way that made his eyes shine, as Messalina leaned between us, trailing a finger

first along Dacian’s brow and then mine. “Actually,” she said, her face gone suddenly serious. “I’m
countingonbothofyoutobeonyourbestbehavior,andI’msureyouwillnotdisappointme.”Thenshe
turnedonherheel,andleftusalone

14

“Shallwe?”Daciangesturedtowardalargeplatterofsweetsaservantwasoffering.

ButIjustshookmyhead.Iwasinnomoodforsweets.NotwhenIlongedforfreshair,nightsky,and

escape.

“IthinkI’drathergooutsideforabit,”Isaid,myvoicelightandgirlishbutseriousallthesame.“I

thinkI’dlikesomefreshair.”

Daciannodded,offeredhisarm,andwhenIcrookedmyownaroundit,heledmethroughaseriesof

crowded rooms until we found ourselves standing on a balcony that overlooked the arena where the
gladiatorstrainedduringtheday.

“Look at all the stars!” I leaned my head back, my complicated arrangement of curls and twists

cascadingtomywaistasItookinthemagnificentexpanseofblacksky.

“Doyouknowtheconstellations?”Dacianasked.
Ismiled,admittingthatwhileIdidindeedknowmostofthem,Istillwantedhimtoshowme.
“Well, let’s see then …” He squinted into the dark. “Right there is Cassiopeia.” He pointed, then

movinghisfingerhesaid,“AndthatoverthereisDraco,ofcourse.And,ifI’mnotmistaken,thatoneright
therewouldbeAureliaMajor.”Heturnedtome,hishairfallingoveroneeye.

“AureliaMajor?”Ishookmyheadandlaughed.“Andjustwhenexactlywasthatonediscovered?It’s

thefirstI’veheardofit.”

“Oh,it’squitereal,Iassureyou.”Hesmiled,exposingteethsowhite,dimplessodeep,andafaceso

cute,Ifeltasthoughabubbleofbutterflieshadjustburstinmychest.“HowshallIproveit?”

Thequestionhungbetweenus,aflirtatiouschallengethatIhadnoideahowtorespondto.AllIknewis

that if I didn’t do something, if I didn’t speak up, if I didn’t look away, perhaps even move away, then
Dacianwouldsoonkissme.

AndwhileIwasn’tentirelysurethatIwantedhimtokissme—Ialsowasn’tentirelysurethatIwas

willingtomissoutonwhatmaybemyoneandonlychanceathimkissingme.

He rubbed his lips together, steadied his shaky fingers on my arm, then closed his eyes and leaned

towardme,asIstoodtherebeforehim,bodyrigid,mindbusilytakingnoteofeverytinydetail,knowing
thatlater,I’dwanttoreviewthem.

Noting the distant sounds of laughter drifting behind us—the swishy sound of my dress when Dacian

moved his hand from my arm to my waist and pulled me closer to him. And then, before I could note
anything further, his lips had found mine—pressing briefly—once—twice—and then he pulled away
again.

Daciangrinned,slidhisarmaroundme,andreturnedtostargazing—thesilenceunfoldingbetweenus

until it felt as wide as the sky. But instead of rushing to fill it, I let it unfurl. Words would be said
eventually,butforthemoment,Iwasdeterminedtosavorthequietforaslongasitstood.

“Look!” Dacian’s voice was edged with excitement as his finger pointed toward the sky. “There’s

AureliaMinor!Rightthere—rightnexttoAureliaMajor!Nowdoyoubelieveme?”Hisgazemetmine,
andIsawinhiseyesthesamethingthatIfeltdeepinside.

Welikedeachother.Therewasnowaytohideit.
Iavertedmygaze,suddenlyovercomebyshyness,havingnocluewhattosay.WonderingifIshould

maybeteasehimaboutfailingtoactonhisbestbehavior—thatthebriefkisswesharedwasmorethan
enough to make good on my threat to summon a gladiator. Though I quickly decided against it, worried
thathemighttakemeseriously—thatitmightgivehimreasonnottokissmeagain—somethingIwasnot

willingtorisk.

“Areyoucold?”Hesmoothedahandovermybarearminanefforttowarmme.
“Alittle.”Ishrugged,unawarethatI’dshivereduntilhe’djustmentionedit.
He looked at me, his gaze gone all fuzzy like he might try to kiss me again. But just as he started, I

glimpsedsomethingshiny,somethingdazzling,somethingspectacularandfleeting,shootingclearacross
thesky.

AndasIturnedmyheadtogetabetterlook,Dacianmovedinforthekiss,resultingintwonosesthat

smackedhardtogetherasIsaid,“Look,ashooting…star…”

We stepped away from each other, gasping in shock and embarrassment that soon gave way to an

uncontrollablefitofgiggles.Thetwoofusfallingallovereachother,fallingalloverourselves,hands
carefully cupped to our faces, checking for damage, the sight of which only fueled a whole new set of
gigglesthatcompletelyconsumedus.

Ourlaughterhaltedbythesoundofsomeonesaying,“Hi.Uh,sorrytobotheryou,butIwaswondering

ifyoumightbeabletohelpme?”

Iturned,myhandinstantlydroppingfrommynosetomysideasItookinthestrangerbeforeme.My

eyes grazing over his longish flop of brown hair that swooped over his brow before falling into a
remarkablepairofgreeneyesframedbyathicksetoflashes.Workingmywayallthewaydownasetof
verystrange,entirelyunfamiliarclothesthatclearlymarkedhimasaforeigner—includingapairofshoes
thatwerebigandclumsyandmilesawayfromthestrappyleathersandalsalltheothermaleswore.And
whenIworkedmywaybackup,Isawthathechewedsomesortofoddgreenobjectlodgedinthesideof
his mouth, which just made him look even more strange than he already did. Everything about him was
weird—andyet,somehowIfoundthatIcouldn’tturnawaynomatterhowhardItried.

Dacianmovedbeforeme,asthoughtoprotectme—amoveIfoundrathersweet,ifnotalsoatadbit

unnecessary. “And just what is it you need help with?” He gave the stranger a once-over almost as
thoroughasmine.

“I’m trying to locate a … friend.” The stranger’s voice was cautious, careful. “I’m afraid I’m

responsibleforher,andI’mwonderingifeitherofyoumight’veseenher.She’sblond,blue-eyed,andat
twelveyearsoldshe’sabitonthesmallside.Goesbythenameof—”

I slipped back to Dacian’s side, my eyes meeting the stranger’s, unsure what to make of the

unmistakablewayhewaslookingatme.

Withshock.
Anddisbelief.
As though he wasn’t just looking at me, but also through me, beyond me—and while I had no idea

whathesaw,therewasnodenyinghisinterestwaspiqued.

“Riley?” His voice croaked as the straw fell from his mouth and landed at his feet. He stepped

forward, his gait tentative, a bit shaky, stopping when Dacian raised a hand between them, flashing his
palminwarning.

“I’m going to have to stop you right there,” Dacian said, the threat implied in his tone. “Clearly you

havethewrongparty,soit’sbestyoumoveon.”

Ifthestrangerheard,hechosetoignoreit.Andthoughhemadenofurthermoveinmydirection,that

didn’tstophimfromstaringincompleteandutterfascinationwhenhesaid,“Riley?RileyBloom?Tell
me,doesthatnamemeananythingtoyou?”

Heatrosetomycheeks,asafamiliarfeelingblossomedinsideme—andthoughIknewIshouldlook

away,Ijustcouldn’t,Iwasfrozeninplace

“It’s like I said.” Dacian took another step toward him. “You have the wrong party. There is no …

RileyBloomhere.”Hestumbledoverthename.“It’stimeforyoutomoveon.”

Thestrangerglancedbetweenus,hisgazelandingonmine,holdingthelookforsolongIcouldn’thelp

butsquirmundertheweightofit.

AwareofDacian’sbodytensing,hisfingerscurlingintofists,refusingtorelaxevenafterthestranger

said,“Noworries,I’mleaving.”Heturned,steppedaway,glancingoverhisshouldertoadd,“Atleastfor
nowanyway.”

15

MessalinaandIstayeduplateintothenight,pickingatatrayofleftoversweets,braidingeachother’s
hair,andswappingtalesthatwesworeintothestrictestconfidence,requiringasolemnvowofsecrecy
before they were told. And after I’d listened to her gush on and on about her top secret romance with
Theocoles,itwasmyturntorelateeverylastdetailofthemomentDaciankissedme.

“Hedidnot!”Messalinaploppedasweetintohermouthandleanedtowardmeashereyesgrewwide

withsurprise.

“Hedid,indeed.”Ismiledatthememory.“Notmuchofagentlemantobesure,butstill,Idecidednot

tocallhimonit.Infact,Ievenlethimdoitagain!”

“No!”Messalinalaughedandshookherhead,loungingonalargepileofpillowsshe’darrangedather

back.

“Ohyes.”Inodded.“Though,tobehonest,itdidn’tquitegoasplanned.Ratherthanactuallykissing,

wehadalittleaccidentandendedupsmackingnosesinstead!”Icoveredmyfacewithmyhands,seeing
the embarrassing moment so clearly it was as though it was happening all over again. “And before we
couldgiveitanothertry,astrangerinterruptedus…and…well,themomentwaslost.”Ishrugged.“But
thenlater,bythefountain,he—”

“Stranger? What stranger?” Messalina bolted upright, her voice so edgy, face so alarmed, I

immediatelyregrettedhavingmentionedit.

“It’snothing,”Itoldher,quicktowaveitaway,wantingtogetbacktomystory—thesecondbriefkiss

Dacianhadgivenme.“Heleftfairlyquickly,itisnothingforyoutoworryabout.”

“But he must’ve wanted something—won’t you tell me what that is?” She leaned toward me, her

fingersreachingformybrow,pushingmyhairawayfrommyface.

“HewaslookingforsomeonenamedRiley.”Mygazelockedonhers.“RileyBloom,Ithinkhesaid.”
“Andwhatdidyoutellhim?”Sheleanedcloser,staringintently.
Isighed,longingtomovepastit,butonelookatherfacemadeitclearthatwasnotgoingtohappen

unlesswefinishedthisfirst.“Ididn’tsayanything.”Mygazeheldfasttoherssoshe’dknowitwastrue.
“Daciantoldhimtherewasnoonearoundbythatname,thathehadthewrongparty,andshouldbeonhis
way.”

“Andhedid?Heleft?”Messalinaasked,clearlyonedge.
“He’sgone.Nottoworry,Idoubthe’llreturn.”
Ilookedaway,bitdownonmylip,strugglingwiththeurgetotakeitallback,confesstomyfib,tellher

thatheactuallysaidjusttheopposite,leavingmetobelievethathewouldreturnatsomepoint.Thewar
between the truth and the lie waging within me, until I saw the way her face softened, her shoulders
slumpedandrelaxed,asshepluckedanespeciallyripe-lookingdatefromthetrayandtosseditmyway.

I plopped the squishy, puckered fruit into my mouth, closing my eyes to better savor its wonderful

sweetness.Thestranger’simagebloominginmymind,unabletomakesenseofwhyIliedtomyfriend,
whyIclungtohispromiseofreturn—IonlyknowthatIdid.

“So,whatwasthekisslike?”Messalinaasked,returningtomyfavoritetopic.“Youaregoingtotell

me,right?Iwanttoheareverylastdetail!”Sheheldapillowtoherchest,wrappedherarmsaroundit
andleanedtowardme,urging,“Sogoahead—whatwasitlike?Wasitasromanticasyouhopeditwould
be?Imean,afterall,itwasyourfirstkiss,right?”

Ireachedformyownpillow,tookalongtimefussingwithit,gettingitjustright.Thoughthatwasall

pretense—buying the time that I needed in order to erase the memory of the green-eyed stranger and

replace it with an image of Dacian. Then, once that was set, I was free to concentrate solely on the
questionsshe’dasked.

Isnuckasmileontomyface,pluckedanotherdatefromthetray,andsaid,“Theskywassprinkledwith

stars—itcouldn’thavebeenmoreromantic.”Iclosedmyeyes,desperatetoseeitagain.“Therewaseven
ashootingstar—I’msosorryyoumissedit.”

“Didyoumakeawish?”Hervoicesourgentmyeyessnappedopenjustintimetoseetheseriouslook

thatcrossedherface.“Youshouldhave,”shesaid,noddingassheadded,“youreally,reallyshouldhave.
Mostpeoplewishforthemomenttoneverend—oratleastforthefeelingtoneverend—andthewishis
alwaysgranted,itneverfails.Theygettorelivetheexperienceagainandagain.Beautiful,isn’tit?”She
sighedandlookedatme,andallIcoulddowasnodinagreement.

16

Thenextmorning,Messalinawokemebyjigglingmyarmandgigglinginmyearasshesaid,“Wakeup
sleepyhead—we’vegotabigdayahead!”

I ran a hand through my tangled mass of curls, lifted myself from the massive pile of pillows, and

joinedheratthetrunkfilledwithwhatseemedtobeaninfiniteamountofgorgeous,silkythingssheurged
metochoosefrom.

“Goahead!Picksomethingpretty!”Shesmiledbrightlyasshewatchedmerifflethroughit.Liftinga

glossystreamofpinksilkwovenwithintricategoldbits,onlytohavehersnatchitaway,andsay,“Not
thatone.”Shefoughtforcontrolofherface,triedtosoftentheedge,tonotlookasangryashervoicehad
alreadybetrayedhertobe.“Ishould’vetoldyou,I’vealreadydecidedtowearpinktoday.AndsinceI’m
sureyou’dprefertostandoutinfrontofDacian,you’llneedtochooseanothercolor.”

Igazedlonginglyatthepink.Nowthatitwasforbidden,Iwanteditmorethanever.Hopingtoswayher

whenIsaid,“Butwearelikesisters,right?”Igazedatherfromundermylashes.“Well,ifwebothwear
pinkthenwecanbeevencloser—almostliketwins!”

The argument was a good one, sure to win her over, but Messalina wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t even

pausetoconsider.Shequicklydismisseditwithanimpatientwaveofherhand,andreachedforadress
thatgleamedwiththedeepestshadeofcobaltwithtracesofgreenwovenin.

“This—thisistheone,thereisnodoubtinmymind.”Sheheldthedressbeforeme,urgingmetoagree,

butmyexcitementwasnomatchforhers,Iwasstillmourningthelossofthepink.“Withsomesapphire
jewelry,ormaybeevenlapis…”Shepressedafingertoherchinasthoughseriouslydecidingbetween
the two. “Well, either way, this one will serve you well, of that I’ve no doubt. It’ll bring out your
gorgeousblueeyes,tobesure.Dacianwon’tknowwhattodowithhimselfwhenheseesyou!”

Dacian.
Theboywhokissedme.
TheboyIwasreallybeginningtolike—wasn’tI?Messalinaseemedtothinkthatwasthecase.
Ifoughttokeepthefactsstraight—andyet,everytimeItriedtoretrieveamemoryofhim,allIcould

seewereswoopybrownbangs,oddclothes,brightgreeneyes,andafacesocomfortingyetunfamiliarI
couldn’tplaceitnomatterhowhardItried.

Ishookmyhead,desperatetoridmyselfofthethought.Messalinawasstaring,sensingachangeinmy

mood,andnotwantingtoexplaintoherwhatIcouldbarelyexplaintomyself,Ireachedforthecobalt
blue dress and slipped it right over my head. And once the complicated array of sashes and ties and
jewelryandhairpinswereallfinallyinplace—oncewewerebothshiny,andgorgeous,andelaborately
dressed—Messalinalinkedherarmwithmine,andsaid,“Andnow,letthegamesbegin!”



TheColosseumwasamazing,likenothingI’deverseenbefore.Myheadforcedtoswivelfromsideto
side in an effort to take it all in. Following Messalina into a private, shady box where all of Roman
nobilitysat,Iturnedtoherandsaid,“Wow,lookatallofthesepeople!Isitalwaysthiscrowded?”

“ItiswhenTheocolesappears.”Shestudiedmecarefully.
Inodded,vaguelyfamiliarwiththename.Hewasachampion.Wentbysomecrazynickname.ThoughI

was quick to dismiss it, hardly interested in those particular details. I was more interested in finding
Dacian.

“IhearDacian’sbeenaskingaboutyouallmorning.”Messalinasmiledasthoughshe’djustreadmy

mind.“Ihearhearrivedearlyinanticipationofseeingyouagain.”Sheleanedcloser,giggledsoftlyinto
myear.“Solet’snotdisappointhim,let’smakesureeverythingisinplace,shallwe?”Shestoodbefore
me,heldmeatarm’slengthashergazemovedoverme.Checkingtomakesureallwasinplaceasshe
brushedafingerovermybrow,saying,“Perfect.Youarejustperfect!Ihopeyouenjoytheshow,Aurelia
—andbelievemewhenIsaythatoneneverforgetstheirfirsttimeatthegames!”

She pushed me toward Dacian who reached for my hand and guided me to our seats where he

immediatelybeganchatteringabouttheday’sprogram.

Theprocessioncamefirst,quicklyfollowedbygamesthatwereeverybitasviolentandgruesomeasI

assumedtheywouldbe.Andyet,itwasn’tlongbeforeIfoundmyselfslidingtowardtheedgeofmyseat,
caughtupinthesameexcitementaseveryonearoundme.Cheering,andclapping,andstompingmyfeet—
fullyengrossedinthespectacleofhorrific,unimaginabledeath,asoneafteranother,thecarcasses—both
animalandhuman—begantopileup.

AndwhenTheocolestookcenterstage,itbecameimmediatelyclearwhyhewassorevered.Hewas

charismatic, magnetic, a bright and shining star in a sea of charmless brutes. The type of warrior one
couldeasilypinalloftheirfantasieson.

The battle began, and I rooted along with the rest of them—greedy for more carnage, more slaying,

more wounding, more bloodshed—consumed by an insatiable appetite for destruction that the previous
battleshadmerelywhetted.TornbetweenaneagernesstoseeUrbicusfall—torntosmall,bloodiedbits
—andaneagernessfortheshowtogoon,andon,andonsoIcouldalwaysfeelsoengaged.

Mygazedrivetedtothearena,eagerlyfollowingeveryblow,everyleap,everyswingofTheocoles’

sword—untilsomeonemovedintothespacerightbeforemeandblockeditfromview.

“Excuseme!”Itappedhimhardontheshoulder,wishingDacianwouldstepinandhandlethisforme,

buthisviewwasclearandhiseyesweregluedtothearena,notmissingathing.“Doyoumind?I’mtrying
towatchthebattle,muchasyouare,butunlikeyou,Ican’tseeathing,youarecompletelyblockingme!”

Thestrangerturned,pushedhisflopofhairawayfromhispiercinggreeneyes,revealinghimselftobe

theonefromlastnight,onlydressedfarmoreappropriatelyinablue-and-whitetogathatfelltohisknees.

My mouth grew dry, my throat went all hot and tight, as my head swirled in a way I couldn’t quite

identify.

Imean,yes,hewascute.
Seriouslycute.
Incrediblycute.
ButnocuterthanDacian.
NocuterthanmynewboyfriendDacian.
SowhydidIcare?WhywasIfeelingthisway?Itjustdidn’tmakeanysense.
“Ididn’trealizeyouweresuchafanofthegames,Riley.Usuallyyougetcompletelygrossedoutby

thatmuchbloodandgore.Usuallyyouhavealotmorerespectforhumanlife.IguessImisjudgedyou.”

“Mynameisn’tRiley,”Isnapped.ItwastheonlythingIwassureof.
“Isn’tit?”Helookedatme,regardingmeclosely.“Wellforgivemethen,youremindmeanawfullotof

someoneIonceknew.SomeoneI’mveryworriedabout.SomeoneI’vebeensearchingfor.”

“MynameisAurelia,”Isaid,unabletobreakmygazefromhis.
“Ah.”Henodded.“AndIamBodhi.”Hereachedformyhand,thoughastemptedasIwastotakeit,I

heldback.Dacianmaybeengagedinthegames,toobusytonotice,butIstillwasn’tsureifIshouldgo
throughwithit.

“Youtwotogether?”Bodhiasked,hiseyesdartingbetweenDacianandme.
Inodded,rubbedmylipstogether,andthennoddedagain.
“Iwon’tkeepyouthen,”Bodhisaid.“Still,I’mverypleasedtomeetyou.Idon’tknowmanypeoplein

theseparts,soit’snicetoseeafamiliarface.”

“Familiar?”Iquirkedmybrow,unsureifhesaidthatonpurpose,orifitwasanhonestmistake.
Buthewasquicktodismissit,laughingeasilyashesaid,“IsthatwhatIsaid?See,Iguessyoureally

doremindmeofmyfriend,RileyBloom.Imeanttosayfriendly.It’snicetoseeafriendlyfacearound
here.Thiscanbeatoughcrowd,incaseyouhaven’tnoticed.Thoughyou’veseemedtofitinquiteeasily,
haven’tyou?”Hiseyessquintedwhenhesmiled,andheofferedhishandonceagain.

IpeeredatDacian,seeinghewasstillengrossedinthegames.Ireachedforwardandplacedmyhand

inBodhi’s.Watchingasheloweredhishead,brushedhislipsagainstthetopofmyhand,thenliftedhis
eyestomeetmine,shootingmeasaddenedlookthatwassooninterruptedbytheroarofthecrowd.

Theocoleshadgonedown,andthenextthingIknew,thestranger,Bodhi,wasracingtowardthearena,

racingtowardTheocoles,asIturnedtoDacianandsaid,“Whatisgoingon?Whatishedoing?”

“He’sfallen,”Daciansaid,shakinghisheadinpity.“ThePillarofDoomhasfallen.”
IglancedfromDaciantothearena,saying,“No,Imeanthatguy,thestrangerfromlastnight—whatis

hedoingdownthere?”

Daciansquinted,hisbrowcreasinginconfusionwhenhesaid,“Ihavenoidea.”
I jumped to my feet, pushed my way to the edge of the box where I watched as Bodhi knelt beside

Theocoles,speakingurgentlyintohisear.

“Idon’tunderstand,”Isaid,turningtoDacianwho’dmadehiswaytome.“Whataretheydoingdown

there?What’sgoingonaroundhere?”

Myeyesdartedwildly,wonderingwhynooneelsewasbotheredbywhatIcouldsoclearlysee.
“Ithinktheheatandspectaclehasgottentous.”Dacianlaughed,grabbingmyhandasheledmeaway.

“It’satragicturnofevents,completelyunexpected,tobesure.Whatdoyousaywefindsomeplacequiet
tosit,someplacewherewecancooldown.Nightwillfallsoon,andonceitdoes,wecansearchforour
favoriteconstellationsagain.”Helookedatmewithafacesoopenandhopefulitseemedimpossibleto
resist.

Andyet,Imanagedtopullaway,managedtopushmywaybacktothefrontoftheboxsoIcouldpeer

intothearena.SurprisedtofindMessalinadownthere,followingTheocoles,whofollowedhisowndead
body as it was dragged out of the arena and back behind those heavy iron gates. As Bodhi remained
standinginthemiddle,hisgazelockedonmine,tellingmesomethingIcouldn’tquitereadnomatterhow
hardItried.

OurgazebrokenwhenIheardarushoflaughterandnoise,feltalighttouchfirstonmyarm,andthen

onmyforehead,asIturnedtofindmyselfinthemiddleofapartywithMessalinagigglingbesideme,as
sheintroducedmetoasupercuteboywhowentbythenameofDacian.

17

Ineededair.Neededabreakfromthecrowdandthenoise.And,ascuteasDacianwas,Ineededabreak
fromhimtoo.

“Waitformehere?”Ismiled,slippingahandintomyhair,makingitfuller,poofier,knowingjustfrom

lookingthathewassobesottedwithme,he’ddojustaboutanythingthatIaskedatthatpoint.

“I’llcomewithyou,”hesaid,movingtofollow.
Haltedbythefinalityofmyfirmlystated,“No.”
Hesteppedback.Shotmeaninjuredlook.
“Please,”Isaid,resentingtheneedtolightenmytonebutknowingitwasnecessary.Hewasnice,he

wascute,therewasnoneedtoupsethim.“Ijustneedamomentalone.I’llbebackbeforeyouknowit,I
promise.”

He nodded reluctantly, but it was enough to release me. And though I was tempted to run, I forced

myselftowalkasIwoundmywaythroughthemazeofpartyguestsandfoundmywayoutthedoor.

I leaned against the balcony, leaned my head back, and lost myself in the night, hoping the cool air

mightworkabitofmagicbyfindingawaytocuremyconfusion—allthestrangefeelingsnagginginside.

Ihadeverythingagirlcouldwant,andyet,somethingfeltlacking,missing,thoughIhadnoideawhat.
I gazed up at the sky, my eyes searching for constellations, easily finding Cassiopeia, Draco, but

stumblingwhenitcametoAndromeda.

“Andromedaisrightthere.”
Istiffened,expectingtofindDacian,andsurprisedtofindastrangerinstead.
“How’d you know I was looking for Andromeda?” My eyes moved over him, taking in a swoop of

brownhair,brightgreeneyes,andanoddgreenobjectheclenchedinhisteeth.

“BecauseAndromedaisyourfavorite.”Hesmiled,takinganothersteptowardme.
“Andhowwouldyouknowthat?”Iasked,myvoicemorethanalittlebittesty.
“Goodquestion.”Henodded,pretendingtothink.“HowwouldIknowthat?”Hemoveduntilhestood

rightbesideme,whispering,“Think,Riley.Justcloseyoureyes,blockallthisout,andthinkashardas
youcan.HowwouldIknowthat?Trytorememberifyoucan.”

“I—Idon’tknow…”Ilookedallaround,suddenlyregrettingmydecisiontobeoutonmyown.“And

whydoyoucallmeRiley?”

“Becausethat’syourname.”
“MynameisAurelia,”Isaid,thoughtherewasnomistakingthedoubtcreepingintomyvoice.
“Isit?”Hecockedhishead,slippedthegreenobjectacrosshisfrontteeth,andstaredatmeintently.
“Listen,Idon’tknowwhatyou…”Thewordsdiedonmytongueasabeautiful,yellow-hairedanimal

ran up beside me, wagging a fluffy tail with excitement, and happily licking my fingers. “What is it?” I
said,unsureifIshouldbeflatteredbythebeast’sattention,ordisgustedbythewayitslobberedallover
me.

“That’sButtercup.He’syourdog,andhe’sveryhappytoseeyou.You’vebeengonealongtime,Riley.

Toolong.We’vebothbeenveryworriedaboutyou.”

“Worried?Aboutme?Whywouldyoubeworriedaboutme?”
“BecauseI…”Thestrangerpaused,forcedhimselftolookawayforamomentbeforeheretunedtome

andstartedagain.“Becauseit’smyjobtoworryaboutyou.”

“Yourjob?Whatareyou,likemyguardianangelorsomething?”Ilaughedatthethought.
“I’myourguide.Notquitethesamething,thoughtheydosharecertainsimilarities.”

“Doyouhaveanyideahowcrazythissounds?”Ishookmyhead,tellingmyselfIshouldleave,findmy

waybackintotheparty,andtodoitquickly.

ButsomehowIcouldn’t.
SomehowIjustremainedrightthereinplace.
“Justbecausesomethingsoundscrazydoesn’tmakeitanylesstrue.”Heduckedhishead,gazedupat

methroughathickrowoflashes.“Sometimesyoujusthavetotakealeapoffaith,tuneoutwhatyousee
beforeyou,whatotherpeopletellyou,andfocusonwhatyouknowdeepdowninsideyourownheart.”

Igazedbetweenthestrangerandthebeast,thenstartedtoturnaway,stoppedbythesoundofhisvoice

whenhesaid,“You’requiteavision,Riley.Truly.”

Mybreathhitched,aschillsranovermyflesh.
“Icanseewhyyou’vechosentostay.ThefirstmomentIsawyoulikethis,youtookmybreathaway.”

Heshookhishead,rananervoushandoverhischin.“AndnowthatI’vesaidthat,Icanonlyhopethat
whenIfindawaytobreakyououtofhere,youwillnotrememberit.”

Itwistedtheringsonmyhands,unabletoremovemygazefromhis.Carefullycommittinghiswordsto

memory,sensingtheywerefarmoremeaningfulthantheyfirstseemed—surethatI’doncelongedtohear
them—thoughIhadnoideawhohewas.

OrdidI?
Icouldnolongerbesure.
“You know it’s not real, right?” His voice was gentle, his eyes filled with kindness. “You know you

havetoacceptthat—youhavetofindyourwayout.Youcanhaveallthisandmore.Infact,youarewell
onyourway.Youjusthavetobepatient,Riley.Itwillcome.Ipromiseyouthat.Youcanhaveeverything
youwantintheHere&Now—youdon’thavetobehere.”

That tingly feeling his words had brought, vanished just as quickly. He was wrong. I did need to be

here.EverythingIwasdependedonit.Hehadnoideawhathewastalkingabout.

“Listen,”Isaid,mygazeleveledonhis,myvoicefullofvenom,“Idon’tknowwhoyouthinkyouare,

but—”

“MynameisBodhi.”Henodded.Thenpointingatthebeasthesaid,“Iamyourguide,Buttercupisyour

dog,andyouarenotAurelia,youareRiley.Atwelve-year-oldSoulCatcherwhoresidesintheHere&
Now. You are visiting Rome on assignment. You are meant to find a gladiator named Theocoles and
convincehimtocrossover.Youarenotfromthistime.Thisisnotyourhome.Thesepeoplearenotyour
friends.And,thatisnothowyoulookinreallife.Youaredead.Andit’stimeyoufindyourwayoutof
hereandgetonwithyourafterlife.”

Dead?
Dead!
Ishutmyeyestightly,foughtbackthesurgeofcrystallinetearsthatthreatenedtopourdownmycheeks.

Gathering my skirts and shaking my head, I looked at him once more and said, “No! No.” Though my
voicesoundedtired,broken,bearingnotasingletraceofconviction.“Noway.Youneedtoleave.You
needtoleavenow—andyouneedtotakeyour…”Iswallowed,regrettingthewordsbeforetheywere
out. But I had no choice. I was desperate to hang onto Aurelia, and the longer they stayed, the more
impossiblethatwouldbe.“YouneedtotakeyoursmellybeastwithyoubeforeIscreamforhelpandhave
youbothdraggedaway.”

Thebeastlookedatme,itseyesslanting,tailsinkinglowbetweenhislegs,themomentheheardme

callhimsmelly.Andthoughthesightsaddenedme,Ididn’tapologize.Ineededtoberidofthem,findmy
waybackinside,mynewlifeasAureliadependedonit.

“Riley,please—”
Bodhi,thestrangerwhoclaimedtobemyguide,reachedforme,touchedme,hisfingerscirclingmy

wrist,invitingmetofollow—andIalmostcaved—Ialmostdid,untilMessalinaappearedoutofnowhere,

withDacianstandingbesideher.

“Isthereaproblem?”Hergazenarrowedinanger.
IyankedfreeofBodhi’sgrip,wipedthewarmplaceonmyarmwherehisfingershadbeenasthoughI

couldn’twaittoeraseeverylasttraceofhim.

“Everything’sfine,”Isaid,steppingforwardtotakeDacian’sside.“He’sfoundhiswaytothewrong

party,mistakenmeforsomeoneelse,butnowthatheknowsthetruth,nowthatheknowsI’mnotthegirl
he’ssearchingfor,heandhisbeastwillmoveon.Won’tyou?”

InarrowedmygazeonBodhi’s,holdingitforaslongasIcould.Myheartplummeting,asickfeeling

invadingme,fightingtheurgetorunafterthem,whenheturnedandleft,draggingthedogalongwithhim.

Messalina,satisfiedwiththeirdeparture,leftmeinDacian’scarethemomenttheyweregone.Thetwo

ofusgazingintothevastnightsky,pointingtoourfavoriteconstellations—includingtheonehe’dnamed
justforme.Anditwasn’tlongafterthat,whenheclosedhiseyes,leanedforward,andkissedme.

18

WhenTheocolesfell,theentireColosseumwentsilent.

IglancedatDacian,seeinghisfacegoslack,hismouthhangwide,thenIglancedatMessalinabehind

me,notinghowshewastheonlyoneamongusunabletowatch.

WhenTheocolesrolledoverandhiseyessearchedforMessalina’s,thecrowdwasquicktorecover—

quicktoturnonhimandchant,“Kill!”

AndwhenUrbicusliftedhissword,waitingfortheemperor’sconsent—whenMessalinahadalready

fled, unable to watch her lover’s slaughter yet again—when a stranger moved before me and fought to
meetmygaze—IdroppedDacian’shandandleaped,jumped,andfoughtmywaytothecenterofthearena
—overcomebyadriveandastrengthIdidn’tknowIpossessed.

“Theocoles!”Icalled,knowingIhadtomovefastastherewasnotimeforsubtlety,notimetowaste.

“Theocoles—stop!”

Idroppedtomyknees,kneltrightbesidehim,registeringtheshockedlookonhisfaceashetookinthe

gruesomestateofhissad,headlesscorpse.

RepeatingallthesamewordsI’dsaidbefore—butjustlikebeforeIwasunabletogetthroughtohim—

heresistedmeateveryturn.

“Iwillwintheirfavor—theywillworshipmeoncemore!”Heshouted,risingtohisfeet,reachingfor

the helmet he sunk onto his head. “I will not be forgotten! I will be remembered! I will gain their
admirationagain!”

He retrieved his sword, picked up his shield, and I was just about to address him again, when

Messalinasprangupbehindmeandsaid,“You’remuchtougherthanyoulook.”Hergazeburnedonmine
asshemadeherapproach.“You’resurprisinglyresilientforayounggirlyourage.”Shestoodbeforeme,
herwordspointed,chosencarefully,andIknewwithoutlookingthatthemagicwasgone.

Iwasnolongergorgeous,teenagedAurelia—Iwasbacktobeingskinny,scrawny,littleRileyBloom.

Drowning in a pool of silky blue fabric that hung in unflattering droops, as Messalina shook her head,
tskinginpityashertongueclickedtheroofofhermouth.

“WhatwouldDaciansay?”shewonderedaloud.
Dacian.
I sighed, sure that he wouldn’t say much of anything if he saw me like this. Heck, he wouldn’t even

recognize me in my current state—definitely wouldn’t cross rooms just to meet me—much less name
constellationsafterme—nevermindattempttoholdmyhandandkissme.

Butthenanewthoughtoccurred.SomethingsohorrifyingIhesitatedtovoiceit.
ForcingthewordsfrommymouthwhenIsaid,“Idon’tknowMessalina,whatwouldDaciansay?”I

broughtmyfingertomychin,screwedmylipstothesideasthoughdeeplycontemplating.“Myguessishe
wouldsaywhateveryoumakehimsay,since,afterall,heisyourcreation,isn’the?Assoullessasthe
guestsatyournever-endingparty,assoullessastheRomannobleswhocrowdyouruncle’sbox.”Istared
hardather,wantinghertoknowthatwhileitmayhurttorealizemyboyfriendhadbeenfake,Irefusedto
bedevastated.“Assoullessaseveryonehere,butyou,andme,andofcourse,Theocoles.”

“Isthatwhatyouthink?”sheasked,hervoicelowandsoft.
Ishrugged.Imean,Iwasn’tabsolutelysureofit,Ihadnorealproof,butitseemedlikeaprettygood

theory.

“Imissourfriendship,”shesaid,movingrightpastthat,refusingtoeitherconfirmordeny.“YouandI

weresuchgreatfriends,weren’twe?”Shesmiledslowlyasthoughlostinthememory.“Believemewhen

IsaythatitwastrulythemostfunI’vehadinaverylongtime.Thereisnothingyoucansaythatwillmake
methinkotherwise.”

“Youenchantedme!”Ishookmyhead,hardlybelievingwhatshe’djustsaid.“Youhadmeunderyour

spell.AndeverytimeI’dstarttofindmywayout—youbrushedyourhandacrossmyforeheadandputme
underagain!”

“Yeah?So?”Sheshrugged.“Doyoumeantotellmeyoudidn’tenjoyyourself?”
I mashed my lips together, buried my hands in the folds of my skirt, knowing that I had. I’d enjoyed

myselffarmorethanIcaredtoadmit.Enjoyedmyselfsomuch,I’dchosentostay,topretend,evenafter
BodhiandButtercuphadmanagedtowakeme.

Messalina’sworldwasalluring,tempting—itallowedmetolivemyownfairytale—thekindoflife

I’dalwaysdreamedofwithfancyparties,prettydresses,andareallycuteprincebymyside.IfI’dstayed
underherspell,I’dbehappyforaverylongtime,perhapseveneternity.I’dlivethesamedayoverand
overagain,sure,butit’snotlikeI’dknowthedifference.

Butwhileherworldwassoftandcomfortable,offeringeverythingIcouldeverwant,itallcametoo

easy.Therewassomethingtobesaidforpatienceandhardwork.

Therewassomethingtobesaidforrealizingyourdreamtheold-fashionedway,byactuallyearningit.
“It doesn’t have to end, you know?” She smiled, lifted her hand. “You’re the little sister I always

wanted,wecanreturntothateasily,justsaythewordandit’sdone.”

Mybangslaylimpagainstmyforehead,whilethebodiceofmydresssaggedinthemostembarrassing

way—providingtwoverygoodreasonstogivemyconsent,alongwithawholeheapofothersthatlined
upbehindit.AllIhadtodowasallowhertobrushherfingeracrossmybrowandIcoulddissolveinto
bliss.Thoughastemptingasitwas,stillIsaid,“No.”Myfacestern,eyesnarrowed,soshe’dknowthatI
meantit.“Besides,Ialreadyhaveasister,andsomeday,we’llbetogetheragain.Butfornow,I’mcontent
withthememories.”MemoriesandoccasionalvisitstotheViewingRoom,nottomentionDreamland.I
noddedtowardTheocoles,thenreturnedmygazetohers.“YouknowIhaveajobtodo.YouknowI’m
heretogetthroughtohim—tohelphimmoveon.”

“AndyouknowthatIcan’tletyoudothat,”shesaid,herfacesincerewithregret.
“Thenitseemswe’vereachedastalemate,”Isaid,watchingassheturnedawayfrommeinfavorof

him.

Returningtoascenethathadfirsttakenplacehandfulsofcenturiesearlier.TheonewhereTheocoles

staredinbewildermentwhenhefollowedhisowndeadbodyasitwasdraggedfromthearena.

MyvoicecallingafterherasIsaid,“Itdoesn’tendhere!IwillnotgiveupuntilI’vefinishedwhatI

camefor!”

Thewordsfallingondeafearsasthegladiatorandhisgirlfrienddisappearedbehindthebigirongates.

19

“Riley!”Bodhicalledouttome,reachedforme,butIjustkeptgoing,swervingrightpasthim,rightpast
poorwhiningButtercupasIfoundmywayoutoftheColosseumandontothestreet.

“Youweregreatbackthere,”Bodhisaid,runningtokeepupwithme.“Really,asyourguideIhaveto

sayIwastrulyimpressed.”

I slumped down onto a big stone slab and buried my face in my hands, mumbling, “Yeah? Well, you

shouldn’tbe.Thewholething’sbeennothingbutabig,fat,colossalfailsincethemomentIgothere.”

“How do you figure?” Bodhi sat beside me, as Buttercup tried to sniff and lick at my fingers but I

pushedhimaway.

“Howdoyou figure?” I asked, knowing I was acting like a brat, but unable to voice the real reason

behindit.

ItwasthewayBodhihadlookedatmewhenIwasAurelia—versusthewayhelookedatmenow.The

two were polar opposites, worlds apart, as different as me and, well, as different as me and Aurelia
were.

“Youfoundyourwayout,”Bodhisaid.“You’rethefirstSoulCatchertoaccomplishsuchathing.”
“Ididn’t accomplish anything,”I told him.“I found my wayout because ofyou, and Buttercup. Your

showingupwhileIwasoutonthebalconytriggeredsomethinginme,thoughIdidmybesttofightitsoI
could continue to live as Aurelia.” I lifted my head, and searched for his eyes. “And, for the record, I
heardeverythingyousaid.Irememberallofit.”Ishothimapointedlook,wonderingifheunderstood
whatIwasreferringto—thebitwhenheconfessedthatI,orrathermemasqueradingasAurelia,tookhis
breathaway.Ishookmyheadandgroaned,wavedmyhandbeforeme,wishingIcoulderasewhatI’djust
said.Therewasnopointingoingonaboutit.“TheonlyreasonIdidn’tletonisbecauseIdidn’texactly
wanttobeout.BeforeIagreedtoenterherworld,Imadeherpromisenottotrapme.But,onceshedid,I
didn’t fight too hard to get out. Messalina gave me everything I ever wanted and more. And, at that
momentanyway,theHere&Nowjustcouldn’tcompetewiththefairy-talelifeshe’dcreatedforme.”

“So,whatchangedyourmind?”heasked,hisvoicegentlebutcurious.
Istartedtosay,“You.”
Startedtosaythatthethoughtofbeingaroundhim,evenstuckaslittleRileyBloom,thegirlhe’dnever

takeseriously,waswhatdidit—butIjustcouldn’tgettothewords.

So instead, I swallowed hard and said, “Buttercup.” I patted my lap, invited my big lug of a dog to

jump up. Grasping him tightly to a chest that was once again sunken, I said, “I missed Buttercup.” And
then I buried my face in his fur, mumbling my apologies into his ear. “I’m sorry for calling you smelly,
becauseyou’renot—oratleastnotinabadway,notinthewayoftheludus.Yousmelllikefreshairand
sunshineand…”Iscrunchedmynosedeepintohisneck.“Andstrawberries!Haveyoubeenrollingina
fieldofstrawberries?”Ipeeredintohisbigbrowneyes,hopingtofindahintofforgiveness.Andwhen
hebarkedinexcitement,whenhelickedmyfaceandleftapoolofslobberallovermycheeks,Iknewwe
weregoodonceagain.

“So what now?” Bodhi asked, his question so broad I wasn’t sure if he meant: What now after the

weirdthingweexperienced?

Ormorelike:Whatdowedonow—what’sthestrategyforgettingwhatwecamefor?
Choosing to stick with the least uncomfortable of the two, I gazed down at my dress, tightened the

braidedgoldsasharoundmywaist,andsaid,“Well,I’mprettysurewecanfindMessalinaandTheocoles
ineitheroneoftwoplaces—attheparty,orthegames.FromwhatIcantell,theyjustrelivethesametwo

experiencesoverandoveragain.”

20

Iwasreallyhopingwe’dfindthematthegamessinceI’dhadenoughofthatwholepartyscene.And,in
allhonesty,IwashopingtoavoidDacianaswell.

Partlyduetovanity—Icouldn’tbearthethoughtofhimseeingmeasmyself—myrealselfasopposed

tomyfutureself.AndpartlybecauseIwasprettysurehewasn’trealanyway.Iwasprettysurehewas
nothingmorethanamanifestationMessalinahadmadetobetterdistractme.Thefactthatsherefusedto
eitherconfirmordenyit,thefactthatshejustslidaroundthequestion,onlyprovedit.

But,asluckwouldhaveit,whenwearrivedthepartywasinfullswing,Messalinawasalreadydown

intheludus,andtherewasnosignofDacian,whichonlyconfirmedmysuspicion.Dacianwasafake.
Otherwise, he would’ve been there, caught up in the same, lame routine. But since I was no longer a
participant, Messalina was free to delete him from the guest list. And yet, even though I already
suspected,I’mnotgonnalie,itstillhurtlikeheck.

Hurtinawaythatsurprisedme.
Myfairy-taleromancewasnotonlycompletelysuperficial—notonlybasedonalie—but,inactuality,

itdidn’tevenexist.

My first real kiss wasn’t real at all—it had come from a soulless aberration disguised as Prince

Charming.AndI’dwantedsobadlytobelieveitwastruethatIboughtrightintotheillusionMessalina
hadmade.

How’sthatforpathetic?
Wemadeourwaydownthestairs,pushingthroughthecrowdofraginggladiatorghosts,untilwecame

tothesecond-to-lastcell,andImotionedforBodhitopeekthroughthesmallsquareopeningatthetop,to
takeinthesceneIknewalltoowell.

“Wow,hereallyisstuck,”Bodhiwhispered,turningawayfromthedoorandglancingatme.
Istaredathim,suddenlystruckbysomethingIhadn’tnoticedbefore.
“What?”Bodhi’sbrowsdrewtogetherasButtercuptiltedhisheadandstaredatmeinquisitively.
“Sayitagain,”Iurged.“Repeatexactlywhatyoujustsaid,intheexactsametoneofvoice.”
He looked at me like I’d lost it, though he was quick to go along, whispering, “Wow, he really is

stuck.”Thenstaringatme,waitingforthebigreveal.

“That’sit!”Ipulledhimawayfromthedoor,andmotionedforButtercuptorunalongsideme,glancing

over my shoulder to say, “Listen, when we get to the top of the stairs we’ll find ourselves in the
Colosseum.Idon’tknowhowithappens,Ijustknowthatit’salwayshappenedthatwayinthepast,so
I’msureit’llhappenagain.Sojustfollowmylead,okay?”

Bodhi nodded, his trust in me complete. And as I tore up the stairs and found my way to the landing

that’swhenIlearnedthatIreallywasinMessalina’sworld—andtherulesofthegamecouldchangeinan
instant.

21

I stared in confusion, having no idea how this could’ve happened. We weren’t at the games, weren’t
anywhereneartheColosseumfromwhatIcouldtell.TheonlythingIknewforsureisthatMessalinawas
messingwithme.Ifshecouldn’tkeepmeunderherspell,thenshe’dkeepmetrappedinhermaze.

Bodhicockedhishead,lookingtomefordirection.FiguringsinceI’dspentsomuchtimehereImust

knowtheway,andatthatmoment,Isuddenlyunderstoodhisjobbetter—thehugeresponsibilityinvolved
inguidingothers.Ialsounderstoodhowhorribleitmust’vebeenforhimtobestuckasmyguide,whenI
tendedtofighthimeverystepoftheway,ensuringhisjobwasanythingbuteasy.

Surelybeingstuckinamazeofemptywhiteroomsthatalllookedthesame,feelingaboutaslostasit

getsasmydogandmyguidewaitedformetoleadthemtoescape,wasnothingmorethanthepaybackI
sorichlydeserved.Thoughpaybackornot,Ihadnochoicebuttoovercomeit,todowhateverittookto
findourwayout.

I forced myself to go quiet and still, on the lookout for any signs that might help, and it wasn’t long

beforeIheardaburstofnoisedriftingfromaplacenearby,motioningforBodhiandButtercuptofollow
alongsideme.Wecreptdownaseriesofcorridors,throughasuccessionofidenticalrooms,progressing
towardthesoundoflaughter,music,andchatterthatseemedtogrowlouderandlouderwitheachpassing
step,thoughnomatterhowfarwewent,wecouldn’tlocatethesource,nevergotanycloserthanwhenwe
began.

Istopped,comingtosuchaquickandsuddenhaltthatBodhibumpedrightintome,andButtercupinto

him—thechainreactionknockingmeoffbalance,forcingmetoreachtowardthewalltosteadymyself.

“Sorry,”Bodhiwhispered,startingtosaysomethingmorewhenIraisedmyfingertomylips,shooting

himandButtercupawarningofsilence.

Listen,Ithought,knowinghecouldhearitasclearlyasanywordsImightspeak.Listenashardasyou

can.

Bodhi leaned forward as Buttercup mimicked by cocking an ear and holding the pose for a moment

beforeturningtomeinconfusion.

I don’t hear anything—or at least anything that stands out from the laughter and chatter. Bodhi

lookedatme,facethoroughlyconfused.

Inodded.FinallygettingthefullpictureofwhatI’donlyglimpsedbefore.“Insteadofmovingtoward

thenoise,weshould’vebeenmovingawayfromit.”

Bodhilookedinbothdirectionsbeforereturningtome.
“The noise is a distraction. It’s keeping us from our goal. Just like it’s keeping Theocoles from his

destiny.”

Bodhisighed,shrugged,clearlyhavingnoideawhatImeant,buteagertogetonwithit,hejabbeda

thumboverhisshoulderandsaid,“So,wegothatwayinstead?”

Inodded.“Headintothesilence.”Islippedinfrontofhim,takingthelead.“Headtotheplacewhere

thenoisebecomesnomorethanawhisper.That’swherewe’llfindhim—andthat’swherewe’llneedto
leadhimaswell.”

22

Weheadedbackthroughthemaze,backdownthestairs,andbacktowardtheludus,movingawayfrom
the noise Messalina had manifested to bait us, until reaching the long row of cells where I stopped,
listenedintently,andhearingtheroarofthecrowd,movedinthedirectionitcamefrom.

“Wait—Ithoughtwewantedtomoveawayfromthenoise?”Bodhisaid,keepingpacebesideme.
“Wedid.”Inodded,quickeningmypace.
“Butnowwe’removingtowardit—again.”
“Yep.” I navigated a series of turns, trying not to overthink it—that would only lead to doubt and

confusion.IfIwantedtoendthis,Ihadtocommittomyinstincts.

“I don’t get it,” Bodhi said, his voice sounding discouraged, as though he was ready to move in and

takecharge.

“Youmaynotgetitnow,butyouwill,Ipromise.Youhavetotrustme.”
Ilookedathim,takingintheswoopofhishair,andhisthickfringeoflashes,thenIlookedawayjustas

quickly.UnsurewhyIfeltsuchasuddensurgeoflosswhenweweregettingalongbetterthanever,but
therewasnodoubtthingshadchanged.Changedinawaythatwasmuchbiggerthaneitherofusprobably
realized.Whetheritbegoodchangeorbadchangeremainedtobeseen—allIknewforsureisthatall
changestemsfromalossofsomethingthatcamebefore.

“Thepartynoisewasintendedtodistractus,toleadustowardsomethingthatdidn’texist,”Itoldhim.

“Messalina manifested it. There are no party guests—she just makes it appear that way. The only thing
that’srealiswhathappensbetweenherandTheocoles.”

“WhataboutthoseotherSoulCatchers?Didyourunintoanyofthem?They’restillouthere,disguised

aspartyguests,gladiators,houseslaves,andwhoknowswhatelse?”

Ishrugged.Ihadnowayofknowingwhathappenedtothem,andIhatedtosayit,butitreallywasnone

ofmyconcern.I’dbeenwarnedaboutmakingupmyownassignments,itwasalessonI’dlearnedthehard
way,butatleastIcansaythatItrulydidlearnit.WhichmeantthatthefateofanyoneotherthanTheocoles
wasnoneofmybusiness.TheCouncilwasincharge,notme.

“We’ll deal with that later.” I glanced over my shoulder. “But for now, all you need to know is that

whereveryouheartheroarofthecrowd,that’swhereyou’llfindTheocoles.It’swhathelivedfor,what
heinadvertentlydiedfor—andit’stheonethingherefusestogiveup.”

WeturnedanothercornerandIcouldn’thelpbutsmileintriumphwhenthelighthitmyeyessohardI

wasforcedtosquintandshieldmyfacewithmyhand.

“The Colosseum,” Bodhi said, as poor Buttercup sniffed the air and gazed around anxiously, sensing

thelingeringagonyofallthepooranimalsthatcameherebeforehimonlytodieaterribledeath.“The
ludushadapassagewaythatledrighttoit.IguessI’dforgottenthat.”

Westoodbesidethebigirongates,watchingthelastfewminutesofthefight—theremainingmoments

rightbeforeTheocolesdied—beforethecrowdscornedhim,turnedonhim,demandedhepayforwhat
theyperceivedasanactofcowardice.AndIlookedatBodhi,said,“Please,waithere—please,justlet
mehandlethis.”Thenwithoutanotherword,Ispedtowardthearena.KnowingMessalinaneverarrived
untillater,butthatshewouldarrive,ofthatI’dnodoubt.Itwasadancethey’drepeatedtoomanytimes,
andMessalinawasjustascaughtupinitashewas.

She was also, apparently, on to me, because I’d barely made my way across the sand when she

appearedrightbeforeme,andsaid,“Ifyoudon’twanttostayandenjoytheparty,thenperhapsyoushould
leave.I’vetriedtobeagoodhostess.I’vetriedtoprovideyouwitheverythingyourheartdesires.Butit

doesn’tseemtobeenoughforyou.Youwantmore.YouwantsomethingIcanneverallowyoutohave.
Youcan’tfightme,Riley,andneithercanyourfriends.”ShemotionedtowardtheplacewhereButtercup
andBodhiwaited.“Soperhapsit’stimewesayourgood-byes.”

“Ithoughtyoulovedhim?”Imovedtowardher.“Ithoughtyouwantedtobewithhim?Ithoughtyou

were planning a future together?” I looked at her, her eyes shining brightly as she stood before me,
haughty,regal—thequeenofherowntragicfairytale.

“Ido,”shesaidquietly.“AndIwillhaveallofthat,youwillsee.Butwhenitdoeshappen,itwillbe

becauseofme.Theocoleswillawakenbecauseofme.Me,Riley,notyou!Mylovewillpullhimthrough.
Onedayhewilllookatmeagain,inrealtime,notinsomepast-lifemirage.Onedayhewillseethereal
mestandingbeforehim,andthatwillbeenough.He’llrememberthelovethatwesharedanditwillshake
himfromthepast.Butithastocomefromme,Riley.Whycan’tyouunderstandthat?Whycan’tyouall
justletusbe?”

My jaw dropped in astonishment as a new understanding began to take shape. “You think you’re to

blame.” My eyes met hers, and I knew it was true by the way she flinched in response. “You think he
blamesyouforwhathappenedtohim.”

“What?Andyouseeitdifferently?”Sheshotmeapityinglook.“Hewasputtohisdeathbecausehe

rolledovertolookatme!Helostthebattle—ofthatthere’snodoubt—buthewasthecrowdfavorite—
surely they would’ve taken mercy—surely they would’ve chanted live instead of kill if he hadn’t done
what he did. How were they to know his eyes went in search of me? No one knew about us—no one
could know about us—my uncle would’ve never allowed it! Would’ve interfered and done whatever it
tooktostopit.But,asfatewouldhaveit,myunclegotjustashewould’vewished.Iwasstandingbeside
him, when Theocoles’ eyes met mine, and that’s when my uncle confirmed what he’d already begun to
suspect.Butdidhewhisperintheemperor’sear?Didhefindawaytointervene?No.Healloweditto
happen.And,whenitwasdone,heturnedtomeandsaid,‘Itisforthebest.Somedayyouwillthankme.’”

She shook her head, her gaze bearing the loss as though it were fresh. “So make no mistake, Riley,

Theocolesdoesblameme.I’vebeenhereforthousandsofyearsandnotoncehaveIbrokenthroughto
him.Herefusestoseemeunlessit’sascenewerelivefromthepast.It’sthecrowdheadores.It’salove
Icannotcompetewith—it’safateI’vecometoaccept.Thoughmyloveforhimburnsbrighterthanever,
inalloftheseyearsithasnotdimmedintheslightest.Ifanything,it’sjustmadememoredetermined.So
please,pleaseleaveustodowhatwedo.Checkbackinanotherhundredyearsifyoumust,butfornow,
leaveusbeuntilthen.”

“You’rewillingtowaititoutforanothercentury?”
Shenodded.
“Anotherhundredyearsofthesame,lameroutine?”
“Itmaybeallthesame—butit’scertainlynotlame.Igettobenearhim—andthat’sallthatmattersto

me.”

Ilookedather,thisbeautiful,charmingghostIonceconfusedasmyfriend.AnddespitehowevilIonce

thoughtshewas,Icouldn’thelpbutfeelsorryforher.Shewasmisguided,therewasnogettingaroundit,
buteverythingshedid,wasdoneoutoflove.

Igazeddownatthesand,caughtinaquandaryIhadn’texpected.TherewasnowayI’dleaveherbe

foranotherhundredyears,thatwasoutofthequestion.EspeciallynowthatIknewexactlyhowtoawaken
Theocolesfromthepast—knewexactlyhowtogetthroughtohim.Adiscoverythatwouldsurelyplace
me in the Soul Catcher Hall of Fame—if there were such a thing—a discovery that all the other Soul
Catcherswouldtalkaboutinaweforyearstocome.Theymayevennameaholidayaftermeinorderto
celebratewhatwassuretobeamonumentalvictory.

Thingwas,itdidn’treallyhavetobemewhodidit.IcouldjustaseasilytellMessalinathesecretand

provideherthescript.Afterall,she’dspentthelastseveralcenturiesjustwaitingforthismoment—andI

justwasn’tsureIcouldstealitfromher—nomatterhowmuchgloryitwouldmeanforme.

Iburiedmybigtoedeepintothesand,knowingitwouldbejustaseasytopushrightpastherandclaim

centerstage.

Easy,butnotnecessarilyright.
Anddefinitelynotatallkind.
Iheavedagreatsigh,lookedupather,andsaid,“Whilethere’snowayI’mleavingyouhereforthe

nexthundredyears—Iwillleaveyouthis:IfyouwanttogetthroughtoTheocoles,youneedtolearnhow
towhisper…”

23

“Idon’tgetit.”Sheglancedbetweenthegladiatorandme,facefullofjudgmentandscorn.“Howcould
thatpossiblywork?Heonlyrespondstotheroarofthecrowd—andasfarashe’sconcernedthelouder
thebetter.Whywouldhepayattentiontosomethinghecan’tevenhear?Somethingsuretobedrownedout
bythenoise?”

“Becausesometimesthere’smoreworthinsilencethannoise,”Isaid,desperateforhertounderstand

whatI’djustcometolearnformyself.“Sometimeseverythingyouneedtoknowiscontainedinthatsmall
quietspace.Sometimeswegetsocaughtupindistractionandnoiseandseekingotherpeople’sapproval
weforgetthequietseedoftruththatlivesinourhearts.Butjustbecausewefailtotuneintoit,doesn’t
meanit’snotthere.Theocoleslovesyou.Iknow,becauseIsawyoutogetherinhiscell—Isawthelook
hegaveyouafterhefellinthearena—”

“Yeah,andit’sbecauseofthatlookthatherefusestolookatmenow.”Sheshookherhead,foldedher

armsacrossherchest.“I’msorry,Riley,Iknowyou’reonlytryingtohelp,whichisprettyamazingafter
allthatI’veputyouthrough,butIjustdon’tseethepointin—”

“I didn’t see the point in trying on the blue dress the day we first met. I didn’t see the point in

manifestinganewandimprovedversionofme.Butintheend,itworked,andnomatterhowthingsturned
out,forawhileanyway,theresultsmademehappy.”Inodded,wantinghertorealizethetruthbehindmy
words,butshewasquicktodismissit.

“Thatwasdifferent,thatwasanoutcomewithinmycontrol.”Sheshrugged,lookedaway.
“Wasit?”Iquirkedabrow,refusedtogiveup.“Imean,I’mtheonewhocameupwiththevisionof

howIwantedtolook—notyou.Sodidn’tIplaysomepartinthewaythingsturnedout?”

Shelookedatme,anewunderstandingbeginningtodawnonherface.
“Tryit,”Iurged.“Whatcanithurttotrywhenyouhavenothinglefttolose?”
Shenodded,ranherhandsoverthefrontofhergorgeouspinkgown,fussedwithhercurls,adjustedher

necklace and rings, and approached him. Standing beside him as he stared at his corpse, mumbling in
confusion,wheresheproceededtodotheexactoppositeofwhatI’djustcounseled.

Insteadofapproachinghimgently,quietly,sheturnedtowardthecrowd,threwherheadback,opened

herarmswide,andsentthemintoastateofuncontrolledfrenzy—thestadiumrumblingwiththesoundof:
Theocoles!Theocoles!LongliveTheocoles,thePillarofDoom!

ThechorusrepeatingagainandagainasTheocolesstopped,alertedtotheircryofnoisyadmiration,he

gazedaroundwildly,threwhisheadback,spreadhisarmswide,andsoakeditallin.

“What’sshedoing?”Bodhiasked,havingcomeupbesideme.
Ishookmyheadinreply.Disappointeddidn’tevenbegintodescribehowIfelt.
“But,moreimportantly,whatareyoudoing?”hesaid,staringintently.
Ilookedathim,unsurewhathemeant.
“Giving away your Soul Catch to a ghost who tricked you?” He frowned. “The Riley Bloom I know

wouldneverdosuchathing.Shewouldn’tevenconsidergivinguptheglory.”

Oh,that.
Inodded,shrugged,unsurejusthowtoexplainitotherthantosay,“Iguessitjustseemedliketheright

thingtodo.Youknow,thekind,maturethingtodo.But,maybeImisjudgedher.”

Iclosedmyeyestobetterlistentothelecturethatplayedinmyhead.Theonethatchidedmeformy

foolishness—thatscoldedmefortrustingsomeonewho’dtrickedmenumeroustimesalready.Butjustas
thatinternaldialoguebegantotakehold,anewthoughtmovedinandstoppeditcold.

WhatIwasdoingwasthesamethingTheocoleshaddoneforapileofcenturies.Iwastuningintomy

hurtpride,mybruisedego,mytarnishedself-image,mywoundedvanity—Iwassofocusedonthelecture,
Iignoredthequiettruththatliveddeepinside.AndonceI’dsilencedthenoiseinmyhead,Irealizedthe
noiseinthearenahadvanishedaswell.

Messalinahadtakenmyadviceafterall.
Theocolesstaggered,flounderedhiswayacrossthesand,searchingforhishelmet,hissword,andhis

shield—readytoenterintohistirelessroutineyetagain.

But just as he reached for them, Messalina made them each vanish—one by one—until he spun in

confusion,unsurewhattodo.

“Iknowyouprefertohearthem,”shewhispered,gesturingtowardthestadium.Shefilledthestands

brieflywithacrowdthatclappedandcheered,notingthewayTheocoles’eyeslitupatthesightofit,the
soundofit,andhowquicklytheyextinguishedthemomentshetookitaway.“ButI’veindulgedyoufortoo
long,andnowI’mhopingyou’lllistentomeinsteadofthem.”

Hemovedrightpasther,knockingintoher,completelyunawareofher,causinghertolookmyway,her

facebroken,longingforencouragement,approval,whichIhappilygave.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for so long now,” she said. “I have so much to tell you. There are so

manythingsyouusedtocareabout—somanygoalsyouusedtoworktoward—andthoughitseemsyou
haveforgottenthem,thatyou’veturnedyourbackandceasedcaringaboutthem—Istillwantyoutoknow
thatjustafteryoudied,Isawthatyourbrotherwasfreed.ItoldyouIwouldprovidethemoney,Itoldyou
that you didn’t have to fight for it, and I kept my promise. I had him released from the mines, and I’m
happytosaythatbecauseofit,Luciuswasabletolivealongandfulfillinglife.Ialsohadamonument
builtinyourhonor.Itwasabustofyourface,withyournameonaplaquejustunderneathsothatnoone
wouldeverforgetwhoyouwere,orthatyouwereoncethereigningchampionoftheColosseum.Itstood
for a very long time, hundreds of years, to be sure. It stood just outside of these walls. Though
unfortunately it was knocked down not long after the fall. Yes, the empire has fallen.” She smiled. “So
muchhaschanged—someofRomeisnotatallrecognizable—andsomeismuchlikeyouleftit.Notthat
yougottoseemuchoutsideoftheludus—butthepointis,youarenolongerstuckhere.Oratleastyou
don’thavetobe.Thechoiceisyours.Butifyouchoosetostayhere,well,youwillstayherealone.”She
glancedoverhershoulder,meetingmygazeasshesaid,“I’mtiredofthissame,lameroutine.I’msorry
thatyou’veneverseenfittoforgiveme.Butmaybeit’stimeIforgivemyself.Maybeit’stimeformeto
moveontowhat’snext.”

She moved toward him, grabbed hold of his shoulders and stared hard into his face, repeating the

words I’d fed her just moments before. “I wish you would learn to tune out the roar of the crowd, and
instead,listentothewhisperoftruththatlivesinyourheart.”

He tried to move away, tried to move past her, still on a quest for his missing sword, but Messalina

held firm, her hands grasping his arms as she finished the script I’d given to her. “Your heart always
knows what’s important. It always knows how to guide you. It’s pure, and trustworthy—though it will
nevershouttobeheard.Itwillneverspeakaboveawhisper.Butifyoulearnhowtoheedit,howtohear
it,youwillneverfeellostintheworld.”

Hepushedheraside,lurchedforward,continuedtostaggeracrossthesand,asIsaggedinfrustration,

knowingshedidthebestthatshecould,thatIcouldn’thavedoneanybetter.IguessthiswasoneSoul
Catchneitheroneofuscouldcrossover.

I started to turn, started to motion to Bodhi to leave. My feelings conflicted, knowing I’d done all I

could,thoughthatdidn’tmakeitanyeasier.DefeatwassomethingIdidnothandlewell.

RemindedofthewordsBodhisaidbeforeI’devenstartedthisjourney,someoldGandhiquote,“Full

effortisfullvictory.”Andthoughitsmeaningwasclear,Iwashardlyinthemoodtocelebrateanyeffort
thatdidn’tendinvictory,it’sjusthowIwas.

ImetBodhi’seyes,tryingnottofeelashamedinfrontofmyguide,totallymissingthewayhegestured,

pointedbehindme,untilhesaid,“Look.”

IturnedtoseeTheocoles,browscrunchedinconfusion,ashewatchedMessalinacrossthearena.
The Colosseum so quiet you could hear a butterfly take flight, broken by Theocoles’ fervent cry,

“Messalina!”

Shestopped,hereyeswide,asshespunonherheeltofacehim.Herbodystill,facecautiouslyhopeful,

asthoughshecouldn’tquitebelievethatthemomentshe’dbeenwaitingforhadfinallycometofruition.

“Messalina—where am I?” He gazed around in confusion. “Where have they gone?” He motioned

towardastadium,oncefilledtocapacity,butnowempty.

“Home,”shesaid,hervoicelikeasigh.“TheylefttheColosseumaverylongtimeago.We’retheonly

onesleft.Well,theonlyoriginalonesanyway.”

“AndLucius?Heisfree,itistruewhatyousaid?”
Shenodded,approachinghimuntilshestoodjustinchesaway,saying,“Yes.”
“AndI—Iamfreeaswell?”
Sheclosedhereyes,savoringhisquestion,andopeningthemagainwhenshesaid,“Yes.Finally.After

allofthesecenturies,youarenowfree.Thatis,ifyouchoosetobe.Intheend,it’suptoyou.”

“Andourfuture?”
She smiled, eyes shining with hope and a surge of crystalline tears. “Ours to seize whenever we’re

ready.”

He reached toward her, big, brutal hands cupping her cheeks with a tenderness I would’ve never

imagined.Gazinguponherasthoughshewasapreciousmiragehefearedwouldsoonfade.

“Andyouruncle—heapprovesofourunion,then?”Histhumbssmoothedoverherskin,hiseyesfixed

onhersasthoughnotimehadpassed,asthoughhe’dmerelywokenfromabriefnap.

“No.”Sheshookherhead,herfingersreachinguptomeethis.“I’mafraid,henevercamearoundtothe

idea.Thoughhe’shardlyanissueanymore.Theonlythingthatcanstopusfrommovingforward,isyou.”

“Me?”Hesteppedback,gazedaroundinconfusionagain,butonlyforamomentbeforetheweightof

hisrealityhithim.“Thenittrulyisover.Iamnolongerenslavedbyyouruncle—nolongerenslavedby
…them.”Hegesturedtowardtheemptystands.“Andallofthis—”Hegazeddownathisfeet,kickedat
the pile of rose petals he once held so dear, suddenly realizing he’d traded a love that’d never once
faltered,foronethatwasasfickleasthewind.

“Ishouldhopenot,”shesaid.“Butintheend,thatisalsouptoyou.”
“Thenwhatarewewaitingfor?”heasked,movingtowardherwithpurpose.
“Wewaitfornothing,”shesaid,smilingasshemeltedintohisarms.

24

Theocoles walked alongside me as Messalina hung back with Bodhi and Buttercup. An arrangement I
didn’tquiteexpect,butthenagainnothingwasgoingasplanned.

EventhoughIknewhehadasoftside(afterall,I’dseenitfirsthandwhenIwatchedhimintheludus

withMessalina),itwasstillkindofsurprisingtoseehowgentlehewas.Imean,forabig,hulking,mass
of a guy—one who definitely lived up to his nickname, Pillar of Doom, he spoke to me with such
kindness,IhadnodoubtthatthepersonIsawinthearenawasmorelikearolehe’dtakenoninorderto
survive—arolethatgotawayfromhim,sure—butitwasn’twhohereallywasdeepdowninside.

AndwhileIwasmorethanreadytomaketheshimmeringgoldenveilrightthenandthere,andsendhim

directlyfromthearenatothebridge,TheocoleshadbeenpentupintheludusandColosseumforsolong,
hewantedtoseewhathadbecomeofRomebeforehemovedon.

HewantedtoseetherealRome—themodernRome—theonewithflushingtoiletsandrunningwater.
ThoughasmuchasIpreferredthenewandimproved,lessbarbaricversion,Theocoleswasn’tquiteso

impressed.

“So,whatdoyouthink?”Iasked,afterhavingmadeaprettygoodtouroftheplace.
He looked at me, shaking his head when he said, “This is how people dress?” He glanced around

again,facedroppingintoafrownwhenheadded,“Icanhardlytellthewomenfromthemen!”

Irolledmyeyes.Icouldn’thelpbuttakethatpersonallysinceI’dditchedthebaggybluegownthefirst

chanceIgot,exchangingitforjeans,a(supercute)tee,andballetflats.Andwithmyhairscrapedintoa
ponytail,withmybodybacktoitsformerstick-figureself,well,thestatementfeltlikeitwasdirectedat
me.Nottomentionthefactthatitcamefromamanwho’dspenthisentirelifewearingadress!

Ishothimaninjuredlook,saying,“Well,getusedtoit.Timeshavechanged.Besides,noteveryonecan

beasamazingasMessalina.Someofusarealittlelessfortunateinthegirlydepartment.”

“Messalinatrulyisthefairestofthemall,”hesaid,gazingbackathertoconfirmit.Thenreturningto

me,headded,“Andyou,MissRileyBloom,shouldnotunderestimateyourself—youmaybeyoungyet,
butyoushowgreatpromise.”Heleaneddown,flickedmyponytail,andsentitswingingbackandforth,
grinningatmeinawaythatmadehistopazeyestwinkleandmythroatgoalltightandhot.Theguyjust
oozedcharmandcharisma,hecouldn’thelpit,hewasmagneticineverypossibleway.

“So,thisisprettymuchit,”Isaid,eagertocrosshimoverandmoveon.“Oldstuff,newstuff,cars,

scooters,people,busy-busy-busy—seenenough?”We’dcomefullcircleagainandtheColosseumsatjust
behindus.

Theocoles squinted, looked all around, as Messalina and Bodhi continued to conference, the two of

themwhisperinginawaythatmademesuspicious.

I was so focused on watching them, that when Theocoles looked at me and said, “What can I expect

whenIgetthere?”well,Iwasn’tquitesurehowtoanswer.

Itookamomenttothinkaboutit,wonderinghowtobestphraseit,justhowmuchtoreveal.Imean,I

couldgivehimaheads-upabouttheenlightening/mortifyinglifereviewprocess—Icouldtellhimthathe
shoulddefinitelyexpecttobegivenanassignmentofsomekind—thatitwasnothingliketheeternityof
cloudloungingandharplessonsmostpeopleexpect.ButthemoreIthoughtaboutit,themoreIrealized
thatwasn’tquitewhathemeant.Thoseweren’tthekindsofdetailshewasinterestedin.

Hewasworriedaboutthechoiceshe’dmade—thewayhe’dlivedhislife.Thiswasaguywho’dleft

heapsofslainbodiesinthearena,andhewasworriedifhemightsomehowhavetopayforallthat.

AndwhileIreallyhadnoideaeitherway,Iwasabletosay,“AllIknowforsureisthatyouwillbe

metwithanabundanceofcompassion,love,andunderstanding.”RememberinghowIwastheonlyone
judgingmyactionsinmyownlifereview—IwastheonlyonecringingatwhatI’dwitnessedthatday—
theCounciljustwantedmetoseemyactionsasclearlyastheydid.

Theocolesthoughtforamoment,thenturningtowardtheColosseum,heclosedhiseyes,threwhishead

back,andopenedhisarmswide,justlikehedidateachofhisvictories.

Thoughthistime,itwasn’tthesoundofapplause,oradoration,oranyoftheusualthingsthathesought

—thistimehelistenedmuchdeeper,listenedforthetruththatlurkedinhisheart.

Andwhenhewasready,whenhegavehisfinalnodofconsent,Imadetheshimmeringgoldenveiland

wavedhimrightthrough.ThenIturnedtoMessalina,motioningforhertofollow,onlytohavehershock
metothecorewhenshemadenomovetojoinhim.

“Messalinawasnotpartoftheassignment,”Bodhisaid,asthoughthatexplainedit.“Sheisnotoursto

crossover.”

Theveilwaveredbeforeme,growingincreasinglysmallerwitheachpassingsecond.“Butwhatifshe

wantstocrossover?Youknow,ofherownfreewill?Imean,youdowanttocrossover,right?You’ve
beenwaitingforthismomentforoverathousandyears!”

When her gaze shifted to Bodhi, I couldn’t help but sigh. Couldn’t help but turn away, my body

strumming with anger as I thought: Great. That’s just great. Here we go again. Another gorgeous girl
withacrushonmyguide—getinline!

Imean,seriously.Somelovestorythatturnedouttobe.SheswoonsafterTheocolesforcenturiesonly

todumphimattheveilthemomentBodhiwiththegreeneyesarrives.

Ifeltlikeasucker.
Themostgullibleghostinthegroup.
I’dbelievedinherstory—neveroncedoubtedtheirromance—and,asitturnsout,itwasasfakeasthe

oneI’dbeenengagedin.

“Not to worry,” Bodhi said, trying to comfort me. “There’s a whole group of people waiting for

Theocoles,readytohelphimgetoriented,sodon’tworryabouthim,he’llbefine.AndwhileMessalina
willheadovereventually,fornow,there’sbeenaslightchangeofplans…”

25

Althoughweendeduptravelingaprettysizeabledistance,wechosenottofly.

Orrather,BodhiandMessalinachosenottofly,ButtercupandIwereforcedtogoalongwithit.
Asitturnsout,Messalinadidn’tknowhowtofly.AndeventhoughIofferedtoteachher(figuringifI

couldteachButtercup,Icouldteachanyone),Bodhiwasquicktoquashit,claimingwehadtohurry—that
wedidn’thavetime—andsoweboardedatraininstead.

Isulkedbythewindow,spendingthemajorityoftheridetakingfurtivepeeksatBodhiandMessalina,

theirheadsduckedinwhisper,payingnomindtome.Andafteraboutthreeandahalfhoursofsteadily
rollingdownthetracks,thetrainfinallycametoastop,andIwasthefirsttoleapup.Sighingandshaking
myheadasImadeforthedoor,convincedthatthreeandahalfhourswould’veprovedmorethanenough
timetoteachsomeonetofly.

And,asitturnedout,threeandahalfhourswasalsoenoughtimetotravelfromRometoVenice.
Yep, Venice, Italy—home of canals, grand old waterfront palaces, and gondola rides—a city I’d

alwaysdreamedofvisiting.

AcitysobeautifulIcouldn’thelpbutgaspasIstruggledtotakeitallin.
AcitysoripewithromanceIcouldn’thelpbutnoticethelittlepangofregretatmyownlostromance,

nomatterhowfakeitmight’vebeen.

WestoppedinthemiddleofSt.Mark’sSquare,watchingButtercupdrivehimselfbonkersbychasing

after flocks of pigeons he couldn’t quite catch. Barking, and growling, and flying and leaping, trying in
vaintomakecontact,andyelpinginconfusioneverytimeheendedupflyingrightthroughtheminstead.

“Issomeoneevergoingtotellhimhe’sdead?”Inoddedtowardmydog,knowingIwasactingcrabby,

andgrumpy,andworse,butIthinkIhadgoodreason.BackintheColosseumI’dactednobly,heroically
even.I’dwillinglyforfeitedtheSoulCatchtoendallSoulCatchesjustsoMessalinacouldbethemaster
ofherownhappyending—onlytobecomeaburdensomethirdwheeltotheirimpromptuparty.Someone
theyhadnochoicebuttodragalongfortheride.

“Listen,ifyouwanttogoonagondolarideorsomething,feelfree.ButtercupandIwillwaithere.”I

slumpedtotheground,mademyselfcomfortable,determinedtomakethebestofanotsogreatsituation,
butstillunabletostopmyselffromadding,“Imean,allIdidwashelpMessalinasnaretheSoulCatchof
thecentury—somethingIprobablywon’tgetanycreditfor—eventhoughitwasmyidea—mywordsthat
awakenedTheocoles.Buthey,whatever,nobiggie.Imean,it’snotlikeI’mnotusedtoitbynow—infact,
I—”

Messalinalookedatme,pressedafingertoherlips,andthegesturealonewasenoughtoremindme.
Iwasdoingitagain.
Allowingmyselftogetlostinthesoundtrackofmyownsadstoryinsteadofwhatreally,trulymattered

—the fact that I was in Venice—something definitely worth celebrating. I mean, so what if they were
planningtoditchme,atleastIstillhadmydog.

“C’mere Buttercup!” I patted my knees, laughing in hysterics when he came bounding toward me,

leapingwithsuchenthusiasmIfelltothegroundwhereIwasinstantlyassaultedbyaridiculousamountof
slobberylicks.“Alrightalready!”Ilaughed,pushinghimawayandgettinghimsettledbesideme.Butonly
foramomentbeforehewasupagain,pawsdancingwildlyashethrusthisnoseintotheairandbarkedat
somethingbehindme.“Whatisit?Whatisitboy?”Icranedmyneck,butstillcouldn’tseewhathesaw.

“Why don’t we go find out?” Bodhi said, motioning for us to follow as he traipsed down a maze of

narrow, pedestrian-only alleyways, easing our way around hordes of tourists juggling armfuls of

overflowing shopping bags, and slowing when we came to the door of a beautiful big old palace that
buttedrightupagainstthewater,asBodhiwavedusallthroughthelockeddoor.

Buttercupsprintedahead,barkinginexcitementashetoreupseveralflightsofsteepmarblestairs,and

itwasn’tuntilI’dreachedthelandingthatIheardit.

Itwasasong—onethatcouldneverbemistakenforanythingotherthanwhatitwas.
ItwasasongIknewwell,infact,itwasoneofmyfavorites.
Itwasthebirthdaysong—andtheyweresingingitforme.
Iburstintotheroom—myfacebeaming,myeyesmovingamongthecrowd—amazedtoseeeveryone

that mattered to me (well, everyone that mattered who was dead, anyway). Waving to my parents, my
grandparents too, along with all the members of the Council, including: Royce, Claude, Celia, Samson,
andAurora(mynot-so-secretfavorite).CheerleaderGirl,alsoknownasJasmine,alsoknownasBodhi’s
girlfriend,wasthereaswell(probablymoreforBodhithanme,butstill,itwasnicetoseeher).Even
Mort, the guy who told me all about Dreamland had dropped by, along with Balthazar, the director of
Dreamland,whostoodalongsidehim.AndwhenmygazelandedonPrinceKanta,whoIhadn’tseensince
mytimeonSt.John,well,Icouldn’thelpbutsquealindelight.He’dbroughtRebeccawithhim,andher
little dog Shucky was already playing a game of fetch with Buttercup. Even the Radiant Boys made an
appearance (as it turned out, there were three), and I was happy to see that they’d ditched those gawd-
awfullittleshortsetstheyusedtowearinfavorofsomethingwaymorecontemporary.Imean,notthatI
cared—Iwasdonejudgingpeoplebytheirappearance(well,forthemostpartanyway).Andwhilethere
were definitely a few people missing, namely the Weeping Woman, and Satchel the boy who makes
nightmares,Idecidednottofocusonthat.

InsteadIfocusedonthesong—andmyfriends—andtheabundanceofloveandcelebrationthatfilled

uptheroom.AndwhenBodhistoodbeforemeholdingabig,hugecakeslatheredinathickcoatofdeep
purplefrosting—well,itseemedmybirthdaywascomplete.

“Cornerpieceisallyours—butonlyifyoucanblowoutthecandlesinonebreath,”hesaid,grinningat

me.

Onebreath—somethingthat’saloteasiertoaccomplishwhenyou’renotdead.
I stared at the corner piece, the one with the big, sugary butterfly plunked down on its side, filling

myselfwithgreatswallowsofair,determinedtonailit,andthat’swhenInoticedsomethingremarkable
—thecandleskeptchanging.

Firsttherewerethirteen.
Thentherewerefourteen.
Thenfifteen.
Thenbacktothirteenagain.
Once,itevenwentaslowastwelve.
MygazesoughtAurora’s,lookingforanswers(shealwayshadanswers),andshewasquicktoexplain

whenshesaid,“Thechoiceisyours.Justknowthatwhicheverageyouchoose,youhaveourfullblessing.
Wearesoproudofyou,Riley,soproudoftheunselfishchoiceyoujustmade.You’vecomeaverylong
way.”

Igulped,returnedmyattentiontothecake,andwhenitshowedfifteencandlesagain,Ithought:Go!Do

it!ThenyoucanbeequalwithBodhi!Andthenmaybehe’ll—

ButwhenIgazedathimagain,Idecidedtoletthatonego.Somethingsjustneedtohappenontheir

own.Somethingscannotbeforced.

OnceI’dletfifteengo,itwaseasytoletfourteengoaswell.
Been there—done that. And I knew with complete certainty that there was a really big difference

betweenlookingacertainage—andfeelingacertainage.

Iwasn’treadyforthebigtime.Notevenclose.

RemindedofwhatEverhadsaidthattimewemetupinDreamland—thatIwaslucky—thatIwouldn’t

beforcedintoanythingbeforeIwasready—Iwouldbecomeateenwhenthetimewasjustright,nota
momentearlier.AndIhadnodoubtinmymindthatmysisterwasright.

I’dbeenwaitingtobethirteenforsolong,Icouldhardlybelievethemomenthadcome.
But,I’dalsohadsomuchexperienceinthetimesincemydeath—Iwasnolongersureifitfit.
Thecandlesflickeredbeforeme—adding—subtracting—overandoveragain.
Andwhenmynumberfinallyappeared,Iclosedmyeyes,suckedinamouthfulofair,andblewwithall

ofmymight.

Rememberingtomakeawish—youalwayshavetomakeawish.
AndwhenIopenedmyeyesandlookeddownatmyself,Isawthatoneofmywishescametrue.
Iwasn’tjustthirteen—Iwasthirteenandahalf—thankyouverymuch!
ItwasanageIfeltcomfortablewith—anageI’dearned—trulyarrivedat.
And,whilemybodywasnowhereasimpressiveasithadbeenbackinRome,italsowasn’tnearlyas

stickfigure–likeanymore.

“Ifyouwishedforthecornerpiece,thenyourwishcametrue,”Bodhisaid,settingthecakeonthetable

andcarvingmeabig,heftyslice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I looked at him and rolled my eyes, but instead of that leading to a

bickeringsessionlikeitnormallywould,webothjustcrackedup.

BodhipresentedmypieceandIwasjustabouttodigin,whenIrememberedIwasn’ttheonlyonewith

abirthdaytocelebrate.SoIclosedmyeyeslongenoughtomanifestabeautifulcupcaketoppedwithpink
creamyfrostinganddottedwithlittlebitsofcandythatshimmeredlikejewels.

Then after plucking one of the candles from my cake, and sticking it in the middle of the cupcake, I

looked at the crowd assembled before me and said, “Would you guys mind singing ‘Happy Birthday’
again?Butthistime,singittomyfriend,Messalina.Sheneverhadabirthdayparty,anditseemsabit
overdue.”

26

EventhoughI’dbeenwaitingforitforyears,eventhoughI’dimagineditdowntoeverylastdetail,asit
turnsout,mythirteenthbirthdaypartywasn’tatalllikeI’dthought.

NotjustbecauseIneverimaginedmyselfdeadatthirteen.
NotjustbecauseIchosetotackonanadditionalsixmonthsbymakingmyselfthirteenandahalf.
Notjustbecauseittechnicallywasn’tabirthdaypartysinceitdidn’ttakeplaceonthedayofmybirth

(Ididn’tknowwhatdayitwas).

But mostly because for someone who’d spent most of my death feeling lonely and friendless, when I

tookinthecrowdatmyparty,IrealizedI’dbeenanythingbut.

Okay,maybeIdidn’tknowmostofthemallthatwell.MaybeagoodamountofthemwerejustpeopleI

workedwith,peopleIoncehelpedfindtheirwaytotheHere&Now.Butstill,I’dspentsomuchtime
feelingalonethatIwasblindedtothefactthattherewasactuallyawholeteamofpeoplecheeringmeon.

UnlikeTheocoles,I’dtunedouttheirroarofapprovalformyown(mostlynegative)thoughts.Butno

more—thosedayswereover.

“Riley, this is amazing!” Messalina lifted her napkin, dabbed at a blob of frosting that had found its

waytoherchin.“Arebirthdaysalwayslikethis?Ifso,Ican’twaittohaveanother!”

“They’re not always like this,” I told her, jabbing my fork deep into a ball of sugary goodness. “But

theyshouldbe.”Itookanotherbiteandsmiled,myteethfrostedwithathickcoatofpurple.

Andthat’swhenIsawhim.
That’swhenIsawhimgazingatmefromacrosstheroominmuchthesamewayhe’dgazedatmethe

veryfirsttimeatMessalina’snever-endingparty.

Withcuriosity.
Andintensity.
Alongwithahealthydoseofunmistakableinterest.
Though unlike the last time, his usual surplus of confidence was lacking—along with his height,

muscles,andoveralllevelofmaturity.(Buthehadditchedthefancytogaforjeansandasweater,andthat
definitelyworkedinhisfavor.)

“He’sreal?”IturnedtoMessalina,myheadswirlingwithconflictingfeelingsofsurpriseanddisbelief.
“Heisindeed.”Messalinasmiledandleanedtowardme,abouttobrushacrumbfrommycheek,then

thinking better of it, thinking I might think that she was trying to enchant me again, she settled for
motioningtowarditinstead.

“Sohewasn’tjustsomesoullessbeingyouwhippedintoexistenceinordertokeepmeoccupied?”
“Notevenclose.Hetrulywassmittenthefirstmomenthesawyou.Ihadnothingtodowithit.”
“Washe—washereallyasenator’ssoninhisformerlife?Isthatwhyhehungaroundforsolong?”I

bitdownonmylip,wonderingwhenhe’dgetthecouragetocrosstheroomandapproachme.

Messalinashrugged.“Whydon’tyouaskhimyourself?”
I hesitated, not sure I could go through with it. It was a large room that seemed even larger when I

remembered how different I must’ve looked from the girl he’d first fallen for—a girl who’d recently
transformedfromAureliaMajorbacktoAureliaMinor.

“Whynottry?”shenudged.“You’llneverknowuntilyoutryit,right?”
I sighed, figuring someone had to make the first move, so it may as well be me. Besides, the party

providedtheperfectexcuse.Iwasjustbeingagoodhostess.Makingsurehewashavingfun.That’sall
thatitwas.Itdidn’tmeananythingmore.

I’d just screwed up my courage, just started to leave, when Messalina grabbed hold of my hand and

pushedsomethinghardandcoolintothecenterofmypalm.Thenclosingmyfingersaroundit,shesaid,
“I’llneverforgetthesacrificeyoumadeonmybehalf.Youcould’veeasilyawakenedTheocolesyourself,
butinstead,yougavethemomenttome.Ihopeyou’lldecidetokeepthissmalltokenofmyappreciation,
andmaybeevenwearitonoccasion,ifyoulike.It’sareplicaoftheonethatIwear.”Sheliftedherhand,
wiggledherfingersothatherringcaughtthelight.“Thinkofitasasymbolofourfriendship.Wemaynot
besisters,butIhopewe’llbefriends.”

Islippedtheringontomyfingerandhelditupbesidehers,decidingtokeepit,toweariteveryday.I

liked the way that it looked, sure, but more importantly I liked the idea of having a friend so close we
werealmostrelated.

“AndTheocoles?”Myeyesmethers.
“I’mheadedtherenow.”Shesmiled.“Thatisifyoucanmaketheveilforme,please?”
I closed my eyes long enough to envision the shimmering golden veil that would lead her to

Summerland,thebridge,andtheworldjustbeyondwhereshewouldjoinTheocoles.

And once that was done, once I waved her right through, I set off on my own journey—crossing the

roomtowhereDacianstood.

27

The moment I stood before Dacian, the first thing I thought was: Wow, he’s changed even more than I
thought!

The second thing was: But he’s still cute. Like, super, bigtime cute—and he looks to be my age as

well—whatarelief!

Sowhatifhewasn’tasconfident?
Sowhatifhewasn’tnearlyasnobleandold-fashionedashewaswhenImethim?
I,forone,wasgladwheninsteadoftakingmyhandandbowingtokissit—hejustgavealittlewave

andsaid,“Hey.”

But that’s probably because he wasn’t really the son of a Roman senator who hung around the last

severalcenturiesunwillingtoletgoofhisoldlife.Thatwasjustarolehe’dfoundhimselfplaying.

Turnsout,hewasaSoulCatcherlikeme.
“Seriously?” I could hardly believe it, could hardly contain my excitement. I didn’t know any other

SoulCatchersbesideBodhi,andIcouldn’thelpbutbethrilledbythenews,knowingitgaveussomething
incommon.

Henoddedinawaythatcausedhishairtofallintohiseyes,lookingmorethanalittleembarrassedto

admitit.“DidyoureallybelieveIwasabonafidetogawearer?”

Inodded,laughingwhenIsaid,“Yeah,oratleastatfirstanyway.LaterIdecidedyouwereafake.”
Hesquinted,unsurewhattomakeofthat.
“YouknowhowMessalinamanifestedallofthosepartyguests?Well,Ithoughtyouwereoneofthem.I

thought you were soulless. I was sure she whipped you into existence just to keep me occupied.” I
shrugged.“Anyway,howlongwereyoustuck?”

Hesighed,lookedaway,shovedhishandsdeepintohispockets,andsaid,“Areally,reallylongtime.

Oratleastitfeelsthatway,it’shardtobesure.”

“And,whatwasitthatunstuckyou?”Iasked.Ihadn’tseenithappen,andItrulywascurious.
HadtheworldbeendissolvedwhenTheocolesandMessalinaleftit—ordiditcontinue?Wereother

Soul Catchers still roaming around that sad, horrible place, lost in a long-ago past? Now that I’d
completedmymission,Imayneverknow.

Mythoughtsinterruptedbythesoundofhimsaying,“You.”
Icockedmyhead,thinkingsurelyIhadn’theardhimquiteright.
Butbeforehehadachancetorepeatit,Bodhijoinedusandsaid,“Abunchofusaregoingforgondola

rides,youguysinterested?”

IlookedatDacianandhelookedatme,thetwoofusblurting,“Okay!”attheexactsametime,inthe

exactsameway,andwecouldn’thelpbutburstoutinlaughter.

Bodhiglancedbetween,hiseyescontainingaglintofsomethingIcouldn’tquiteread.“Great,”hesaid.

“Youguyscansharewithus,thegondolashouldeasilyfitfive,includingButtercup.”

And though I was still excited by the idea of a gondola ride, I couldn’t help but stare at him with

suspicion.

Bodhineverwantedtospendtimewithme.
In fact, it was more like the opposite. He was always trying to ditch me so he could be with his

girlfriend.Andwithmybirthdaypartywindingdown,Ihadahardtimebelievingthathereallywantedto
hangaroundwithme,andDacian,andmydog,whenhecouldbeexploringoneofthemostromanticcities
intheworldwithJasmine.

“Ijustthoughtitwouldbefun,”Bodhisaid,hishandwavingbeforehim,reactingtotheskepticallook

onmyfacewhenheadded,“But,maybenot.Noworries,we’lljustgrabourown.”

He turned, started to leave, when a new thought occurred to me: Maybe Bodhi wasn’t trying to

superviseme,spyonme,orkeeptabsonme.Maybehewasjusttryingtobefriendly,gettoknowme,
spendalittletimeoutsideofSoulCatchingtohavealittlefun,nowthatIwasateenagerandwewere
closerinage.MaybeI’dgottensousedtonothavingfriends,Ididn’tknowhowtoactwhenIdid.

“Wait!” I stepped forward, grabbed ahold of his sleeve. “I’d love to share with you guys—I think it

soundsfun.”Inodded,anxiousforhimtoknowthatImeantwhatIsaid.

Turning to Dacian, making sure it was okay with him, a flush of heat rising to my cheeks when he

nodded,graspedmyhandinhis,andlacedourfingerslooselytogether.

A move that was not lost on Bodhi as his eye darted between Dacian and me, his brow quirking,

thoughtsswirling,ashesaid,“Whatdoyousaywevamanosthen,boat’swaiting!”



WeleftthegorgeousVenetianpalaceinonelongprocession—alongstreamofghostsslippingthroughan
old locked door before wandering down a maze of narrow alleyways to the place where those long,
curvingboatswerealldocked.

My progress halted when Bodhi turned and grabbed hold of my arm, telling Dacian and Jasmine to

continue, that we’d catch up soon enough, then he pulled me into a small boutique as he said, “There’s
somethingIwantyoutosee.”

Istaredathiminconfusion,havingnoideawhathewasgettingat.Imean,yeah,thedressestheysold

wereallverypretty,butIhadnoneedforshoppingwhenIcouldjustmanifestwhatevernewclothesI
might want. Besides, I liked what I wore, I’d been through so many changes already, I wasn’t really
lookingforanymore.

Butwhenhepushedmebeforeafull-lengthmirrorandsaid,“Look,”Idid.
Takinginablondponytail,brightblueeyes,cheekbonesthatwerealittlemorepronouncedthanIwas

usedto(whichinturnmademynoseslightlylesssemi-stubby!),andyeah,insteadofcavinglikeitusually
did,thetoppartofmyT-shirtactuallyjuttedout.

Okay,maybejuttedoutisn’texactlyaccurate—maybeit’sabitofanexaggeration.ButwhatIcansay

forsureisthatforthefirsttimeeverthefabricdidn’tcavein.Andyeah,seeingthatmademefeelproud.

But,asitturnsoutthat’snotwhatBodhiwasreferringto.Hewaspointingtomyglow.
“Why’dyougetridofit?”Hepeeredhardatme,wantingtounderstandwhyI’ddosuchathingwhen

myglowoncemeantsomuchtome.

“Iwantedtofitin.”Ishrugged,mygazerovingmyreflectioninwonder.“AndnooneinMessalina’s

world had one. But also, to be honest, the way that it dimmed after what happened in Dreamland only
remindedmeofhowbadIscrewedup—howfarIstillhadtogo.”

“Andnow?”Bodhi’svoicewasquietandgentle,butnudgingaswell.
“AndnowitseemsI’mwellonmyway.”Igrinned,takinginmysolidgreenglow,notinghowitwas

muchlikethecolorBodhi’shadbeenthedaywefirstmet—thedayhefirstbecamemyguide—anactthat
hadchangedthecourseofmyafterlife.

Thanks to Messalina, I’d gotten a good long glimpse of the future. I’d seen firsthand just what I was

capable of. Bodhi had too. And while I had no idea just when that future would unfold, I knew that it
would.OfthatIwassure.

Theonlythingthathadchangedwasmyhurrytogetthere.Iwasnolongersprintingtowardit.InsteadI

decidedtoenjoyeachdayasitcomes.LiketheysaidinancientRome:Carpediem!

“Are you happy?” Bodhi asked, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew better than to answer

flippantly,orworse—shrugitoff.Itwasclearjusthowveryserioushisquestionreallywas.

Ipaused,takingamomenttoarrangemythoughts.Waveringbetweensayingsomethingdeeplyprofound

versuskeepingitsimple.ButbeforeIcouldgetthere,Buttercupranintothestore,clampeddownonmy
pantleg,andyankedhardwithhisteeth.

“Boatsareallwaiting—youtwostillcoming?”Jasmineglancedbetweenus,herfacebetrayingasmall

hintofworry.

Inodded,laughingasIallowedButtercuptohaulmeoutsidetowhereDacianwaited.Hishandclosing

aroundmineasIglancedovermyshoulder,myeyesmeetingBodhi’swhenIsaid,“Yes.Theanswerto
yourquestionisyes.I’veneverbeenhappier.”

ResidualHaunting[ri-zi-j-wl][ho˙n-tin]neeThoughttobethemostcommonformofhauntingwherea
ghostreenactsarepetitiveroutinewithnoawarenessofanyoneoranythingoutsideofthatroutine.

alsobyalysonnoël

THERILEYBLOOMBOOKS

Radiance

Shimmer

Dreamland

THEIMMORTALSSERIES

Evermore

BlueMoon

Shadowland

DarkFlame

NightStar

Everlasting

Faking19

ArtGeeksandPromQueens

FlyMetotheMoon

LagunaCove

Kiss&Blog

SavingZoë

CruelSummer

author’snote

While the characters and the situations they find themselves in are fictional, the ruins of the Ludus
Magnus, thought to be the most important gladiatorial training school of the time, exist to this day. The
restaurant that overlooks it is also real. However, I’ve taken significant liberties with the layout of the
ludusanditshistoryinordertofittheneedsofthestory.

acknowledgments

Great, big, glittery thanks are owed to Jean Feiwel, Rose Hilliard, Eileen Lawrence, Mariel Dawson,
BillContardi,and,ofcourse,Sandy—thankssomuchforallyourhardworkonRiley’sbehalf!

QuestionsfortheAuthor

Inwhatwaysareyousimilar(ordifferent)toRileyBloom?

Actually,RileyandIsharealotincommon.Iknowwhatit’sliketobethebabyofthefamily,andthoughI
hatetoadmitit,I’vealsobeenknowntohogthemicrophonewhileplayingRockBandontheWii!


Howdoyoucomeupwithyourcharacters?

Honestly,I’mnotreallysure!Thestoryideausuallycomesfirst,andthenasI’mbusyworkingonallthe
insandoutsofthenewworldI’mcreating,thecastjustsortofappears.


Whatwasyourinspirationforthe“Here&Now,”themagicalrealmwhereRileylives?

BackwhenIfirststartedworkingonTheImmortalsseries,Ididquiteabitofresearchonmetaphysics,
quantum physics, ghosts, spirits, and the afterlife, etc., all of which sort of fed into the concept of the
“Here&Now.”Iguess,inaway,it’showIhopetheafterlifewillbe.


Doyoubelieveinghosts?

Inaword—yes.I’vedefinitelyexperiencedenoughunexplainablephenomenatoeverruleitout.


DidyougrowupwithanoldersisterthewayRileydid?Howmanybrothersandsistersdoyouhave?

Ihavetwooldersisters,bothofwhomIcompletelyidolized.There’sabitofanagegapbetweenus,one
is ten years older, and the other five years older, and trust me when I say that I did my best to emulate
them. I listened to their music, watched their TV shows, and read their books—all of which was way
moreappealingthanmyown,moreage-appropriatestuff.AndlikeRiley,Iusedtotryontheirclothesand
makeupwhentheywereoutwiththeirfriends,thoughIsuspectthatrevelationwillcomeasnosurpriseto
them!

Wheredoyouwriteyourbooks?

IhaveahomeofficewhereIputinvery,verylonghourssevendaysaweek—butIhavethebestjobin
theworld,soI’mnotcomplaining!


Haveyoualwayswantedtobeawriter?

Well, first, I wanted to be a mermaid, and then a princess, but ever since sixth grade when I finished
reading my first Judy Blume book, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, I decided I’d rather write
instead. I’d always been an avid reader, but Judy Blume’s books were some of the first that I could
directlyrelateto,andIknewthenthatsomedayIwantedtotrytowritelikethattoo.


Whatwouldyoudoifyoueverstoppedwriting?

Oh, I shudder to even think about it. I truly can’t imagine a life without writing. Though I suppose I’d
probably start traveling more. I’ve traveled a good bit already, both when I was working as a flight
attendant and just on my own, but there are still so many places left to explore—oh, and I’d probably
enrollinsomeartclassestoo—painting,jewelrymaking—craftystufflikethat.


Whatwouldyourreadersbemostsurprisedtolearnaboutyou?

Notlongago,everytimeIfinishedwritingabookIwouldcelebratebycleaningmyhouse,which,Ihave
tosay,wassorelyinneedofitbythen.Butrecently,I’vecometorealizejusthowverysadandpathetic
thatis,sonowIgetapedicureinstead(andsavethehousecleaningforanotherday)!

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