Page 14

13

I watched as the others filed out of the training yard, their mocking laughter still echoing against the stone walls. My jaw clenched at their cruel jibes, but I forced myself to remain still. Livia had handled their taunts with more grace than they deserved, and my defence of her would not improve their behavior, only worsen it.

When I'd agreed to train her, it had been purely out of desperation - a way to keep her safe from her own reckless determination. I'd seen the darkness in Cato's eyes when he'd fought her, recognized the same violence I'd witnessed him inflict on other women in the ludus. The thought of him getting his hands on her again made my blood run cold. I couldn't prove he was throwing matches for money, but I knew what he was capable of. Better to train her myself than risk her seeking instruction from men like him, attracting his attention.

But now... now everything was different. I couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had changed. Perhaps during those long days of my illness, when she'd sat beside my bed for hours, cooling my fever with gentle hands and filling the silence with stories that made me forget the pain. I'd found myself looking forward to her visits, craving her presence in a way that had nothing to do with the fever burning through my body.

Even now, I could remember her fingers combing through my sweat-dampened hair, her voice soft in the darkness as she told me about her childhood with her brother. The way she'd fallen asleep once, curled in the chair beside my bed, her face peaceful in the lamplight. I'd watched her until dawn, memorizing every detail, knowing I had no right to feel the way my heart squeezed at the sight of her.

"Your footwork is improving," I said, moving closer. "You're learning to anticipate the strikes better."

She glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Really? Because according to Septimus, I still move like a drunk mule."

The thought of Septimus complicated things further. I'd seen the way he watched her during training, the barely concealed hunger in his eyes when he adjusted her stance. Part of me was grateful for his protective instincts - I knew he'd die before letting harm come to her. But another part, a part I tried to ignore, twisted with jealousy every time I saw them together. Had they become lovers? The possibility haunted me, even though I had no right to care.

"You don't have to try to make me feel better," she said, turning back to the rack. "I know what they think of me."

I studied her profile in the fading light, noting the bruise darkening her jaw from today's sparring. Septimus hadn't pulled his punches - none of us did anymore. She'd earned that respect, at least. But every mark on her skin felt like a personal failure, a reminder that I couldn't protect her from everything, no matter how much I wanted to.

The truth was, she'd become essential to me in a way that terrified me. Each morning, I watched her train with my heart in my throat, knowing that any day could bring the fight that took her from me. And even if she survived the arena, I had no real claim to her. Any gladiator could summon her to their cell, could take what they wanted. The thought made me sick, but it was the reality of our world.

"Look at me," I said softly, she wouldn't meet my eyes. When she didn't move, I stepped closer, gently turning her face toward mine. "Livia, look at me."

She raised her eyes to mine, and the vulnerability there made my chest ache. Without thinking, I reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, my thumb grazing the bruise on her jaw. The simple touch sent electricity through my fingers, and I fought the urge to pull her closer.

"You're not fooling yourself," I said. "You have talent. Real talent. And more determination than half these men put together."

"But you still don't think I should be here," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I don't. Not because you can't do it, but because..." I struggled to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. How could I explain that the thought of her in the arena paralyzed me with fear? That watching her serve in the dining hall each night, vulnerable to any man's whims, made me want to tear the place apart?

"Because what?"

"Because every time you step into that ring, my heart stops." The confession slipped out before I could stop it. "Because the thought of you getting hurt, of losing you..." I shook my head, stepping back as I remembered my place. "Not that I have any right to lose you. You're not... I mean, I know you're not..."

"Yours?" She finished softly.

The word hit me like a physical blow. No, she wasn't mine. Could never be mine. She belonged to Drusus, just like I did. Just like every slave in this ludus. I'd seen her serve others countless times, had forced myself to look away when hands wandered and kisses were stolen. It was our way of life, had been for years. So why did it suddenly feel like a knife in my gut?

"I just want you safe," I whispered, the words holding so much more than I could say.

She moved closer, eliminating the space I'd put between us. "And what about what I want?"

"Livia..." Her name came out as both warning and plea.

She reached up, her fingers ghosting along my jaw, and my carefully maintained control began to crumble. "What if I don't want to be safe?" she murmured. "What if I want more?"

Before I could respond, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to mine. The kiss wasn't the expected service of a slave, but something freely given, and that made it more precious than gold.

For a moment, I remained frozen, my mind warring with my heart. Every rational thought screamed that this was dangerous - for both of us. But when she started to pull away, uncertainty flickering across her face, my restraint shattered. My hands cupped her face, drawing her back to me, and I kissed her the way I'd been dreaming about for weeks, months perhaps, though I'd never let myself admit it.

She melted against me with a soft sigh that undid me completely. Her hands slid up my chest to tangle in my hair, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She tasted like sunshine. Each brush of her lips against mine felt like a gift I didn't deserve, a treasure I couldn't keep.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, both of us breathing heavily. Her eyes fluttered open, and the emotion I saw there made my chest constrict. In that moment, I forgot about Septimus, about Cato, about all the other men who might claim her. I forgot about Drusus's ownership and the arena's dangers. There was only Livia, warm and real in my arms.

"I can't lose you," I whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. "Not to the arena, not to anyone. I know I have no right to feel this way, but..." The memory of Cato's violence flashed through my mind, along with images of all the ways the arena could take her from me. I thought of Septimus's protective gaze, wondered if he felt this same desperate need to keep her safe, if she went to his cell at night for comfort I couldn't give.

She silenced me with another kiss, this one fierce and determined. "Then don't lose me," she said against my lips. "Train me. Make me strong enough that you don't have to worry. But don't ask me to be less than what I am."

I pulled back slightly, studying her face in the dying light. The bruise on her jaw, the fire in her eyes, the quiet strength that radiated from her very being - all of it combined to make something beautiful and terrifying. She wasn't mine to keep, wasn't mine to lose. Tomorrow she might be ordered to another's bed, might fall in the arena, might be sold on Drusus's whim. And yet somehow she'd become everything.

"I won't," I promised, knowing I meant it despite my fears. "But you have to promise me something too."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't take unnecessary risks." I traced the line of her jaw, my touch feather-light over the bruise. "I've lost too much already. I couldn't bear..." I couldn't finish the thought. The image of her broken in the arena like so many others, or worse, destroyed by men like Cato, haunted my nights.

She caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that made my heart stutter. "I promise," she said softly. "As long as you promise to believe in me."

"I do believe in you," I said, and was surprised to find it was true. "More than you know." More than I should, more than was safe for either of us.

She smiled then, bright and beautiful, and I couldn't help but kiss her again. The evening bell rang in the distance, signaling dinner time. Livia pulled away reluctantly, her fingers lingering on my chest.

"I have to go," she whispered. "They'll be waiting."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice as I watched her straighten her tunic. She gave me one last look, filled with something that made my heart clench, before hurrying toward the main house.

I remained in the training yard, watching her disappear into the gathering darkness. The fever had changed things. Lying there, hovering between life and death, I'd had plenty of time to think. About my life, about my future - about what truly mattered. And now I knew with absolute certainty: Livia mattered more than anything.

Before I could lose my nerve, I headed for Drusus's office. The lanterns were still lit inside, golden light spilling from beneath the door. I knocked.

"Enter."

Drusus sat behind his desk, scrolls spread before him. He looked up as I entered, his expression warming slightly. Despite our respective positions as master and slave, we'd developed a measure of respect over the years.

"Marcus. What brings you here at this hour?"

I took a deep breath. "The fever made me think, Dominus. About my future. I'm not getting any younger, and I believe my best days in the arena may be behind me."

Drusus leaned back, studying me. "You're still one of my best fighters."

"Perhaps. But I'd like to request permission to retire from fighting. I could still serve you by training the others. I've proven my worth in that already." I paused, gathering my courage. "And... I'd like to request my freedom."

Silence stretched between us. Finally, Drusus smiled. "You've served me well for many years, Marcus. I was wondering when you might make this request." He stood, walking to the window. He stood there for a few moments, gazing out over the empty arena, before turning back to me. “I have a proposal for you. The festival of Sol and Aeolus approaches - just two months away. I'm planning something spectacular: games unlike anything this city has seen. A tournament, with gladiators from other ludii competing."

My blood ran cold as I understood the implications. Such events always resulted in significant casualties. And Livia... she would be expected to fight. I kept my face carefully neutral.

"The prize money and betting revenue will be substantial," Drusus continued. "Enough to offset any losses and acquire new fighters. More importantly, if we win, it will establish our ludus as one of the premier training schools in the region." He turned back to me. "Win this tournament for me, Marcus - you and our other fighters - and I'll grant you your freedom. Plus enough money to purchase a small plot of land, provided you continue training my gladiators."

My mind raced. Freedom. Land. The ability to make my own way in the world. And more importantly - the means to eventually buy Livia's freedom. To keep her safe, away from the arena and the ludus.

"Thank you, Dominus," I said, bowing my head to hide the surge of emotion in my eyes. "I accept your terms."

"Good. We'll discuss the details tomorrow. For now, go get some rest. I want my fighters in their best shape for this.”

I left his office, my heart pounding. One month. One tournament. One chance to win not just my freedom, but a future - a future that might include Livia. As I walked back to my cell, I began planning. I would need to train harder than ever, push everyone to their limits. And somehow, I had to find a way to keep Livia alive through what promised to be a bloodbath.

But for the first time in years, I had hope. And that was worth everything. Not in the mood for the bustle of the dining room, I headed instead to the bathhouse. The bathhouse was a haven reserved for trainers and high-ranking gladiators in the arena, access usually granted by reward from Drusus. The moment I stepped inside, the scent of lavender and rosemary filled my nostrils, immediately soothing my senses. Mosaic tiles lined the walls, depicting scenes of ancient battles and heroic victories, while soft candlelight flickered against the polished stone floor.

I quickly stripped off my garments and entered the pool area, my eyes drawn to the exquisite marble pool that dominated the space. Steam rose lazily from the warm, scented water, creating an inviting haze that hung in the air. The sound of trickling water from a nearby fountain added to the serene atmosphere, masking the distant echoes of the city beyond these walls.

As I submerged myself in the welcoming embrace of the pool, I sighed in contentment, feeling the tension begin to melt away from my weary muscles. The warmth enveloped me like a lover's touch, a comforting reminder of my stolen moments with Livia.

"Marcus," a muffled voice called out from the steam. "Is that you?"

"Antonius?" I asked, squinting through the haze.

"Ah, it is you," he said, emerging from the mist like a ghostly apparition. "What brings you here?"

"Same as you, I suppose." I leaned back against the pool's edge, allowing the water to lap at my chest. "A moment of peace."

"Peace." Antonius chuckled bitterly. "Such a rare commodity in our line of work."

"Indeed." I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of the warm water lapping against my skin. "But we must cherish it when we can find it."

"True enough," he agreed, sinking down into the water until only his eyes and nose were visible above the surface.

"Marcus," Antonius said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "Do you ever dream of a different life?"

"Of course," I admitted. "Don't we all?"

"Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to escape this place," he confided, his gaze fixed on the flickering shadows cast by the candles. "To live a life free from bloodshed and violence."

"Perhaps one day you will," I offered. "A gladiator may win his freedom by bringing his owner wealth and fame, and you certainly have the skills to excel in the arena. We all have our dreams, Antonius. The key is to hold onto them, no matter how impossible they may seem."

"Here's to that," he replied.

As I reclined against the smooth marble edge of the bath, I let out a slow, steady exhale. The warm, lavender-scented water enveloped my tired muscles, and I could feel the tension draining away.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Antonius remarked. "Nothing quite like a hot soak after a long day. I almost wish the baths were open to everyone, but part of me enjoys the peace too much."

"Indeed," I agreed, momentarily closing my eyes to savor the sensation of the steam rising from the surface and the gentle sound of trickling water.

"Almost makes you forget about the life we lead," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Antonius' words stirred memories of my own journey to this point - the relentless training and conditioning I had endured as a gladiator, always pushing my body to its limits. The pressure to perform well in the arena was never-ending, our lives hanging in the balance with each fight. I had faced countless opponents, some honorable warriors like myself, others ruthless killers without remorse.

"Sometimes I wonder what would have become of us if we hadn't been dragged into this world of blood and sand," I mused aloud, my gaze drifting to the intricate mosaic patterns adorning the bathhouse walls.

"Perhaps we would have led simpler lives," Antonius suggested, his tone thoughtful. "Farmers or craftsmen, maybe."

"Maybe," I echoed, allowing myself to entertain the fantasy for a moment. In truth, I had often dreamed of a different life - one where I could win my freedom and purchase a small farm on the outskirts of town. A place far removed from the brutality that surrounded us now.

"Wouldn't that be something?" I said with a wistful smile. "To trade in our swords for plows and live out our days in peace."

"Sounds like a dream worth fighting for," Antonius replied, grinning back at me. "But until then, we'll just have to make do with these brief moments of respite."

"True enough," I conceded, my thoughts returning to the challenges that lay ahead. I knew that achieving my dream would not come easily - it would require sacrifice, determination, and perhaps more than a fair share of luck. But as I shared this moment of tranquility with my fellow gladiator, I felt a renewed sense of hope and purpose.

My heart raced as I suddenly imagined the life Livia and I could share if we were both free. The sun shone warm on my face, casting dappled patterns of light through the branches of a tall oak tree that shaded our cozy cottage. Verdant fields stretched out before me, dotted with grazing animals that we cared for together.

The days would be filled with simple tasks - tending to our crops, caring for our animals, and mending the fences that bordered our property. We'd break bread at a roughly hewn wooden table, recounting stories of the day's challenges and triumphs. Our children's laughter would echo through the small cottage, filling it with warmth and love. Our nights would be spent wrapped in each other's arms, listening to the peaceful sounds of the countryside - the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. In those moments, we would know true peace, far removed from the brutal world we had left behind.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my muscles dissipate in the comforting warmth of the pool. The scent of lavender oil filled the air, mingling with the steam that rose from the surface of the water like tendrils of mist. It was moments like these when I could forget the harsh reality of our lives and allow myself to be consumed by the dream.

"What do you dream of, Marcus?" Antonius asked suddenly.

"Oh I don't know," I said, feeling like a fool dreaming of something that would be hard pressed to win. To win my own freedom would be almost impossible - to win Livia's too, especially when she was such a favourite of Drusus, I didn't know if there would ever be a chance.

"You must have something in mind," he said.

"I suppose... a small farm of my own, a peaceful life, maybe a family."

"Ahh, a woman," said Antonius, his eyes sparkling as he grinned at me.

I grinned back. "Isn't that what we all want? Someone soft and loving to come home to?"

Antonius just shrugged. "That's what the slave girls are for."

"Someone willing."

Antonius laughed. "Well, brother, I don't know about you but when the slave girls come to my bed, they are most definitely willing."

I didn't reply, but I couldn't help but concede. Antonius did have a reputation, and I'd shared the barracks with him for several years before earning my own room. Unless the women were incredible actors, he definitely didn't leave them wanting in the bedroom.

Antonius smiled at me, then reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.

"I gave up on dreams a long time ago brother. Blood, sand, beer and woman, that's my life now and I make the best of it. I could be dead tomorrow, but if you still have a dream after all this time, you should fight for it, my friend."

I nodded, my thoughts drifting away again as Antonius climbed out of the water and headed for the steam room. My mind wandered to Livia, her passionate embrace still lingering on my skin. A small voice whispered that this could only end in heartbreak considering that in less than a week we would be fighting a new foe in the arena together and her death was not only possible, at her current fighting level, it was likely. I closed my eyes. I longed to protect her from it all, to build a life together far removed from the blood-soaked sand of the arena. She just needed to stay alive long enough for me to get her out.