Page 54 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Epilogue

D iana

Summer roses climb the barn walls, their fragrance mingling with fresh hay and morning dew. A commotion outside draws my attention. Dominus, wearing a tiny bow tie that Skye managed to attach to his collar, is determinedly trying to eat the flower arrangements. Thrax chases after him, cursing in Latin while trying to maintain his dignity in his formal attire. The sight of the fierce gladiator being outwitted by a naughty goat sets off a round of laughter from the arriving guests.

I stand before a small mirror in my office, now transformed into a bridal chamber, as Laura weaves tiny white flowers into my hair.

“No veil?” she asks, though she already knows my answer.

“Cassius wants to see my face,” I explain, touching my crooked nose and the small scar on my lip that I no longer try to hide. “All of me. Just the way I am.”

The dress is simple, flowing, perfect for a woman who spends her days with horses. But the belt is pure Roman elegance—a gift from Thrax’s talented hands, carved wood with intertwined horses and laurel leaves strung with leather dyed the color of rich earth.

Through the window, I watch our guests arrive. A sudden breeze carries the scent of roses and sea salt, though we’re hundreds of miles from any ocean. For just a moment, I see a reflection in the mirror that isn’t my own—a woman in ancient Roman dress; her smile knowing and warm, one hand resting on the wheel of fate.

Fortuna. The goddess who preserved Cassius through two millennia of frozen sleep, who brought him to this time, to me. She inclines her head slightly, as if giving her blessing, then vanishes like morning mist. The scent of the sea lingers.

I come to my senses to notice the mayor and his wife chatting with Quintus about the expanding garum production. Alex, resplendent in a suit that matches their confidence, guides newcomers to their seats. Jason helps an elderly couple with a gentleness that would have been unimaginable months ago.

“Ready?” Laura asks softly.

I nod, my heart too full for words.

Cassius

The sound of my bride approaching causes every fiber of my being to roar in triumph. She is mine, as I am hers. Diana appears in the barn doorway, and my world stops turning.

She’s wearing dainty sandals, flowers in her hair, sunlight turning her into something divine, like the Goddess she’s named after. But it’s her smile—open, unguarded, radiant with joy—that brings tears to my eyes.

We’ve chosen to blend traditions, like everything else in our life. The barn has been transformed into a temple of sorts, hay bales draped in white fabric, roses everywhere. Our guests sit in a circle, erasing any distinction between bride’s side and groom’s.

As Diana walks toward me, I speak the traditional Roman words of welcome, then repeat them in English—not because she needs the translation anymore, but because each language carries its own kind of love.

“ Cor meum tuum est. My heart to yours.”

“ Nunc et semper,” s he responds. “Now and always.” Her accent is perfect.

The ceremony passes in a blur of ancient vows and modern promises. When it’s time to exchange rings, Diana pulls out a surprise—a torque. The bracelet matches the one I gave her at our engagement. I assume Laura had a hand in all of this.

“So we match,” Diana whispers, her eyes shining.

“We already do,” I reply, eager as a colt to kiss her, as though it’s our first time.

The celebration that follows is pure Second Chance—formal toasts mixing with raucous gladiator songs, traditional Roman dishes beside potluck casseroles. Someone starts playing music, and soon the barn floor is full of dancers mixing styles from two millennia.

Diana

Night falls, and lanterns cast a gentle glow over our gathering. I’m teaching Cassius how to slow dance when he suddenly stills.

“Look,” he whispers, nodding toward the barn entrance.

Sulla stands there, hesitant, a small wooden box in his hands. After a moment’s pause, he places it among the other gifts and slips away into the darkness. It’s not redemption, but it’s… something. A tiny crack in his isolation.

“Today is for joy,” Cassius murmurs, drawing my attention back to him. His hands are warm on my waist, his eyes full of love. “Tomorrow is for conquering our future together, building our legacy.”

“And what are we building?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Everything,” he says simply. “Together.”

Later, after most guests have gone and the lanterns burn low, we walk hand in hand to our cabin.

“Happy?” Cassius asks, pulling me close.

In answer, I kiss him under the stars, pouring all my love into the gesture. When we part, his smile outshines the moon.

“We should go in,” I suggest. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. New students arriving. Program expanding. Life happening.”

His laugh is soft and warm. “Sounds perfect.”

And it is. Not because everything is easy or all wounds are healed. But because we face it together, building something beautiful from the pieces of our past, creating a future neither of us could have imagined alone.

As we cross the threshold, I glance back at Second Chance spread out below us—the barn where we fell in love, the corral where we learned to trust, the paths we’ve walked together. Tomorrow it will be full of activity again: horses and humans learning together, broken pieces becoming whole, second chances becoming new beginnings.

But tonight belongs to us—to love, to joy, to the simple miracle of finding home in each other’s hearts.

“ Te amo ,” Cassius whispers against my hair.

“I love you too,” I reply, and close the door on one chapter as another begins.