Page 6 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Six

C assius

My presence silences the usual morning chatter as I stride across the yard. A blur of black and white darts between my legs—Dominus, Thrax and Skye’s pet goat, on his morning rounds of the property. The little menace has become an irritating amusement to me and all my comrades. He’ll climb on anything and everything and will eat my hair if I don’t stay vigilant.

The morning sun is already as bright as Apollo’s chariot at zenith as I make my way to the corral. My stomach is coiled with dread. I start equine therapy today. Dr. Reeves said it would be helpful. Although I’m not sure how riding a horse can help what’s wrong with my brain, my team tells me it may help with my balance issues and maybe even my memory loss.

A woman is standing by the fence, her back to me. Her hair, the color of honey in the sun, is pulled into a tail at the top of her head. My body responds instantly to her presence, a primal recognition that catches me off guard. Every instinct screams at me to claim her, protect her, though I don’t understand why.

I’ve seen Laura and Skye around the sanctuary, of course, but this is different. This woman is a stranger, and suddenly I’m aware that I’ve never been alone with a woman in my admittedly limited memory.

She turns, perhaps having sensed me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Her eyes, a warm hazel, meet mine and she gives me a shy smile.

She’s not the type of beautiful I see on the women on the barracks’ television. But there’s something about her open expression, the way her gaze doesn’t hold mine for so long it makes me uncomfortable. It puts me at ease from thirty paces. As I stride closer, I notice light brown freckles sprinkled across her nose. They remind me of constellations in the night sky.

“You must be Cassius,” she says, her voice, soft and warm, is overpowered by the translator’s inhuman voice. “I’m Diana.”

“Yes, I… it’s nice to meet you.”

She smiles, and I notice a slight unevenness to her lips, a tiny imperfection that only adds to her charm. I wonder briefly what caused it, what stories are written in the little marks and scars on her face.

“So,” I manage, clearing my throat. “You’re going to teach me about horses?”

She tilts her head. “Teach? That sounds so boring. I don’t want this to sound like school. But, yeah, I guess there will be teaching involved. By the time we’re done, you’re going to know the difference between a pastern and navicular bone. But don’t worry. The best part is that you’ll learn to ride .”

And there’s that smile again, bigger and warmer than before.

“Have you ridden before?”

Before the last word is out of her mouth, she slaps her forehead and groans. Perhaps she’s only talking to herself, but I hear, “Diana! Don’t be an idiot. He doesn’t remember any of that.”

I expected my horse teacher to be calm and detached and in charge, like Dr. Reid and my medical team. But here’s this pretty woman who is so… alive, and real. I like her more every moment.

Her head is tipped down and her palm is covering half her face. I think this is the moment I should try to make her feel better.

“No. There’s just an empty black space where the memory of horses should be, Diana. But it sounds like in a few months, you’ll fill that place up and I’ll be an expert.”

She peeks out at me, her cheeks blushing a pretty shade of scarlet. I want to step closer, to swipe that stray hair off her blazing cheeks, but all I do is say, “It’s okay. I won’t mind when you make a mistake, as long as you don’t mind when I mess things up.”

“Sorry. I wanted to get off on the right foot.”

“You did.” My voice dipped low on those two words. It wasn’t subtle. Her gaze flew to my face, her mouth an O of surprise, and her fading blush turns back to crimson.

She turns and leads me into the corral, where two massive animals stand quietly. I eye them warily, unsure what to expect.

“This is Buddy,” Diana says, gesturing to a sturdy brown horse. “And this handsome gray guy is Atlas.”

She approaches the horses, her movements confident and graceful as she reaches to run her hand along Buddy’s arched neck. The horse nickers and leans into her touch.

“Would you like to say hello?” She turns to me.

I step forward. I may not remember being in a gladiator arena, but I’m told I must have been one. Although I don’t recall much, I know gladiators are only supposed to fear the direction in which the emperor points his thumb at the end of a match. I certainly shouldn’t fear a horse.

Buddy’s large, liquid eyes regard me calmly. I reach out, mimicking Diana’s movements. The horse’s coat is softer than I expected, warm and alive under my palm.

“That’s it,” Diana encourages. “Nice and easy. Horses can sense our emotions, so it’s important to stay calm and confident.”

I nod, trying to ignore the way my heart races. Is it the horse making me nervous, or is it because this woman is standing so close?

For the next hour, Diana guides me through basic grooming techniques. She shows me how to use different brushes, explaining the use of each one.

“Why does one animal need…” I lean closer to count the items in the wooden box, “six brushes?”

She points as she lists them off. “Currycomb, which is called a comb but is basically a brush; body brush; dandy brush; face brush; massage pad; water brush and… there’s more, but I didn’t want to strain the budget.”

Her hand grazes mine as she corrects my grip, and the touch sends a jolt through my system.

Why is this woman having such an effect on me? I take care of myself every night. I’m not a youngster with his first erection.

“You’re doing great.” Her voice is full of warmth. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I lie, not wanting to admit how taxing even this simple activity is. My head has started to throb, and I’m fighting to keep my balance as I work on Atlas’s flank with the currycomb.

Diana’s eyes narrow, and I get the impression she sees right through me. “It’s okay to take breaks, you know. This is all new for your body and your mind.”

Gratefully, I step back from the horse. Diana releases Atlas into the paddock, then leads me to a bench just outside the barn where we’ve been working. She joins me and we sit in the shade just watching the two horses who are head to ass as they swish flies off each other’s faces.

“So,” she says finally. “What do you think of the horses?”

I consider the question. “They’re… impressive. Powerful. But also gentle in a way I didn’t expect.”

Diana nods, her eyes lighting up. “That’s exactly it. They’re these huge, strong creatures, but they choose to work with us. It’s all about trust and mutual respect.”

As she talks about horses, her passion is evident. I’m drawn in, not just by her words, but by how her face comes alive. When she gestures passionately, I notice the strength in her arms, the calluses on her hands. This is a woman who’s not afraid of hard work.

Her gaze narrows on me, concern etched on her face. “You look…”

I shake my head. Her last word didn’t translate.

“You look tuckered. It means tired. Tuckered out.”

I want to lie, to say I’m fine, but my body gets ahead of my mind and I nod. “Yes. Tuckered in.”

She laughs, her blonde tail of hair bobbing with her happiness.

“You did great! The doctors told me to let you decide when to end each session, but I think from now on, I’ll call time out when I think you’ve had enough. What should I have expected from a big, strong gladiator like you? I should have known you’d keep working until your legs gave out from under you.”

We’ve only been together a few hours, but I get the feeling that no matter what I do, she’ll tell me I’m doing the exact right thing. I think my equine therapy is going to rise above dinner as my favorite time of day. Though lately, I find myself growing irritated with the coarse way my fellow gladiators speak Latin. Their pronunciation grates on my newly recovered memories of more refined company. When Quintus mangles a particularly elegant phrase, I have to bite my tongue to keep from correcting him.

“Same time tomorrow?” Diana asks as I rise with effort from the bench. “There’s a saying, ‘eat the frog first’.”

Perhaps she sees the shock on my face. This must be one of the many things about modern culture that I find surprisingly barbaric.

Laughing, she explains, “It means do the hard thing first, then everything is a downhill slide from there.”

She waits for me to understand her, then adds, “The first thing we’ll do, now that you’ve agreed to work with me, is go over a treatment plan. It sounds boring, I know, but it’s the way we do things. So that’s the frog. Then we’ll have fun with Atlas and Buddy. Okay?”

I nod, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Ok. Tomorrow we eat frogs.”

“Yum.” She smiles, and for a moment, I let myself imagine she’s as reluctant to part ways as I am. But then I remember who I am—or rather, who I’m not. I’m a man with no past, no memories, and absolutely nothing to offer.

“Get some rest,” she says, her voice gentle. “You deserve it. You worked your ass off.”

Worked my ass off? I assume this is one of those idioms my English teacher mentioned. I decide not to ask about it.

As I walk away, I’m hit by a wave of exhaustion so intense my knees almost buckle. The headache that’s been building all morning tightens a band around my forehead. It’s all I can do to make it to my bunk.

Collapsing onto the narrow bed, I close my eyes against the pain. But even in the darkness, I see Diana’s smile, hear the warmth in her voice. It’s ridiculous, I know. I’ve just met this woman who’s named after the Roman deity of animals, hunting, and the moon. And yet…

Sleep claims me before I can finish the thought.