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Chapter Twenty-Three

A ries

The morning after our intimate bath, I decide I can’t put this off anymore. Watching Callie navigate our kitchen—all unconscious grace and morning sunlight—the weight of my secret feels like it might crush my ribs. She deserves the truth. All of it.

“We should talk,” I say quietly. “About what I promised to tell you.”

Her hands clutch the drassah pot she’s holding. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this now.”

But we do. After what she shared last night, after how far we’ve come, she deserves the whole truth. Even if it means losing everything we’ve built. Can she hear my story without hating me?

Spark drifts closer, its usual bright colors shifting to concerned lavender. The shimmerling seems to sense the weight of what’s coming.

“Could we…” My voice catches. “Could we sit in the garden? I need… to be somewhere open to speak the truth. ”

She follows me outside without question. The morning air carries the scent of night-blooming flowers, so different from the rain and metallic tang of the arena that haunts my memories. We settle on the small bench, maintaining the proper gap, while Spark hovers protectively between us.

“My brother Kren and I weren’t born gladiators,” I begin, the words scraping raw. “We were sons of a merchant on Dauphus Prime. Our fathers were different, but we had the same mother. He was three annums younger, but you’d never know it. He always seemed wiser somehow, even as a child.”

The memory rises unbidden. Kren’s small hand in mine as we explored the marketplace where his father traded exotic spices. “There was this time, just before the harvest festival. He couldn’t have been more than six. We were supposed to stay in father’s booth, but Kren heard music…”

“Come on, Ari!” Kren tugged my hand, eyes bright with excitement. “Just for a minima! ”

“Father said to stay put,” I protested, already feeling my resolve weaken. It was impossible to deny Kren anything when he smiled like that.

“But the fire dancers are here! Please?” He bounced on his toes, horns barely visible nubs on his small head. “I’ll be your best brother forever and ever.”

“You’re my only brother, pest,” I grumbled, but let him pull me into the crowd.

The fire dancers whirled in the square, their flames painting patterns that drew gasps from the gathered crowd. Kren’s face glowed with wonder as he watched, still clutching my hand.

“We’ll learn to dance like that someday,” he declared with childish certainty. “You and me, Ari. We’ll make the prettiest fire-patterns anyone’s ever seen. ”

“Oh, really?” I couldn’t help grinning. “And how exactly will we do that?”

He turned those serious eyes on me, eyes that always seemed to see straight through to my soul. “Because we can do anything together. You said so.”

After I’ve told the story to Callie, I add, “He believed that.” I glance away, not wanting her to see the liquid welling in my eyes. “Right up until the end, he believed we could do anything as long as we were together.”

“I’ll not ask a single question, Aries, and will try not to say a word. Take this at your own pace. But can you pretend that I’m holding your hand? You know I would be, if it wouldn’t break the rules.”

Her sweet reassurance, her desire to be my lifeline as I tell her my story, makes me care for her more than I already do.

“Yes, Callie.” I nod. “I’m holding your sweet hand.”

A beat of silence stretches between us. Whether it’s for a few standard minutes or longer, I don’t know. The need to do this in my own way, in my own time, outweighs even my affection for the female by my side.

“Slavers,” I finally spit out, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

“I was fifteen, Kren barely twelve. They raided during the night market. Father tried to fight them off, but…” I clench my hands, remembering his crumpled form, the blood pooling beneath him.

“They wanted young males for the ludus . Said we’d fetch a good price. ”

Spark pulses gently, encouraging me to continue. Callie’s eyes hold no judgment, only quiet support.

“The ludus …” I swallow hard. “It should have broken us. But somehow, Kren kept his inner light. Even in that dark place, he found ways to make others smile. To keep hope alive.”

As I marvel at how he managed to do that, another memory surfaces, this one from our early days of training…

“Again!” The trainer’s whip cracked. “Until you get it right!”

My arms trembled as I held the weighted practice sword. We’d been at this for hoaras , repeating the same sequence until our muscles screamed. Kren wasn’t faring any better beside me, his smaller frame shaking with exhaustion.

“Remember what Mother used to say?” he whispered as we moved through the forms again. “About the wind and the mountain?”

I grunted, focusing on keeping my stance correct. “Remind me.”

“The wind howls and rages,” he recited, matching my movements perfectly, “but the mountain remains. That’s us, Ari. We’re the mountain.”

“Pretty sure Mother meant that as a meditation guide, not gladiator training.”

His quiet laugh drew a warning glare from the trainer. “Same thing, isn’t it? We endure. We remain. Together.”

“He was right,” I tell Callie, who listens with shining eyes. “We did remain. Through everything they threw at us—the brutal training, the punishment details, the practice matches that were really just excuses for abuse. We survived because we had each other.”

“You protected him,” she observes.

“I tried.” My voice cracks. “Gods, I tried so hard. Took his punishment details when I could. Traded favors for extra food rations when he was too thin. But I couldn’t protect him from everything.”

Her hand has been lying face up on her thigh nearest me. She gently clenches it, over and over, as though she’s clutching my hand, giving me support .

She doesn’t know what’s coming, but by the tragic look on her face, she knows it’s going to be bad. I doubt she could guess at just how horrible my tale will be.

“They sold us to different owners when I turned eighteen.” The words feel like shards of glass in my throat. “I fought my way back to him, literally. Won enough matches that my new master agreed to buy his contract too. I thought… I thought we’d finally be safe together again.”

Spark’s light dims to a deep blue, reflecting the grief in my voice. Storm clouds gather on the horizon, as if nature itself senses the darkness of what comes next.

“We weren’t.”