“Lilia!” I heard the whistle of the sword coming for my neck before I saw it. Christus’ shout warned me, and I leapt out of the way, whirling at the same time, my own blade out. With the strength of my arms behind it, my blade bit into the flesh of another’s abdomen easily. He looked at me, eyes wide, as blood began to pour from his throat.
Once I would have ignored the grief that washed over me as best as I could, knowing that it had had to be one of us. Christus, however, had woken feelings in me that I had not known existed, and with them came the realization that all of these men in the arena here—even Bavarius—were people who were about to die.
I closed my eyes as the man fell to his knees in front of me, his blood staining the sand crimson.
I had no choice if I wanted to live.
“Aah!” From the corner of my eye I saw another blade coming. It was wielded by a man whom I had met in the arena before, one who was twice my size. He charged toward me with unbelievable speed, his blade lifted to part my head from my body. I let him get close, then feinted to the side, whirling back around to slice through the flesh of his back.
Two down, and my lungs burned. There had been thirty of us in the arena to begin with. How were we to last?
Slicing my way through two more men, and swallowing the bile that rose as I did, I scanned the massive expanse of sand for Christus. The arena had been littered with items that I knew could not possibly be random—Gaius never did anything without a purpose. Still, the great cage, the wreck of a ship, the large clusters of trees—they made it hard to tell who was who, and how many still stood.
Retreating to the edge of the sand, I gulped greedily at the scorching hot air and tried to get my bearings.
Mere moments had passed since the gong had rung out, setting the people of the Empire into a frenzy, and yet by my quick count, nearly half of the gladiators already lay on the sand, some still and lifeless, and some bleeding beyond repair. My heart jumped, lodging in my throat, as I ran my eyes over every one.
I did not see the shock of inky hair that was now as familiar to me as my own hand, nor did I see the expanse of golden flesh that I knew so well. I could not see Christus, but I was certain that he still stood.
“Lilia . . . lovely Lilia . . .” There was a copse of trees directly to my right, and the sound came from within their verdant green. I had but a moment to wonder where Gaius had found such dense foliage in the heat of high summer before I spotted Bavarius, perched high in the branches of one. He grinned down at me, seemingly unconcerned about the goings-on beneath him.
“I am surprised you have the strength to climb, after the festivities last evening.” The smile slid from Bavarius’ face, as I had meant it to, and I felt a small stab of triumph. I knew firsthand how it felt to be taken against your will, and if it had been anyone but this man, I would have felt pity.
This same man, however, had taken me that way again and again. This, I decided, was the justice of the gods.
“You will die today, you worthless cunt.” His hissed words dripped with venom, and I felt some small stirring of pity for him in spite of myself.
“And you think you will be safe, hiding in a tree?” I shook my head, then turned away. When it came time, be it in a few minutes or a few hours, I would best Bavarius. Until then, I had to focus on keeping Christus and myself alive.
The game had been on for nearly an hour when I finally found Christus. A large gash through the flesh of his chest made me wince, and I wanted nothing more than to pull him from harm’s way and kiss it better.
I could not. Since the game had started, I had slain six men myself, and the look on Christus’ battered face told me that he was equally weary. An hour was not a long time for an entire set of games, but a game was usually comprised of many matches, many different fights between different men. I did know what Gaius had expected by placing so many of the most skilled gladiators together at once, telling them to fight for their lives. From the glimpses of his angry face up in his velvet-draped balcony, I gathered that it was going far faster than he had anticipated, and he was not pleased.
Grimly, I pulled satisfaction from the fact. The day could not end soon enough for my taste, whether it ended in my death or my victory. At least then I would know the fate of myself and my love.
“How do you fare?” With me there to watch over him for a moment, Christus paused to pant in and out, clutching a hand to his side. Once he had caught his breath, he looked up into my face, and I saw the thunder of the gods roll over his features.
“Who has dared to touch you?” It was not a question that required an answer—I was a gladiator. I fought, and he knew this. But his words were a way of expressing his rage that someone had laid their hands on me, and had marked my skin.
I thrilled to the fierce protectiveness, and drew strength from it, strength that I sorely needed at the moment.
“How many are left here?” My voice was a whisper as I surveyed the area around me. The arena was littered with fallen bodies, enough senseless deaths to make me feel sick. The crowd had gone silent, and my skin prickled as realization hit me. “We are nearing the end, are we not?”
Christus nodded, then stood, placing his back against my own, so that we could watch more of the eerily empty space. “A single man is left here. I have not seen him since you arrived.”
“There is but one that I know of, as well. Bavarius.” Christus gnashed his teeth at the mention of the man’s name, and I knew that nothing would satisfy him but seeing the man’s head parted from his body. “He has hid the entire time. He will be refreshed, where we are not.”
“He will die.” A great roar rent the air then, causing us both to jump. The people in the crowd were looking to the far end of the arena, away from Christus and me. We whirled as one, just in time to see Bavarius leap from his tree and break into a run.
The giant of a man that he was running from did not follow him. He stood and watched as Bavarius charged toward Christus and me, his intent clear.
He meant to eliminate the two of us, to perhaps intimidate the giant of a gladiator who seemed content to wait until this scene had played out.
I braced myself for the onslaught. I was stronger and more skilled than Bavarius, as was Christus, but the foolish man was fighting for his life.
It made him stupid. There was no other reason that I could think of for him to charge the two of us. This realization seemed to hit him as he neared us, slowing his pace, altering his expression to display the cunning that I had seen there so many times before.
“Come!” Gesticulating wildly, as if he had meant nothing more than to rally us all along, he shouted with excitement . . . and with fear, “Let us take out the giant together!”
I did not look at Christus—I did not have to. I knew that the disgust that I felt would be as clearly displayed on his face as it must have been on mine.
“No.” It felt liberating to say this word to Bavarius, and to see, for once, fear on his face as I spoke. “No. It is your turn.” And with these words I charged at him.
He was surprised at my sudden attack and, never the most disciplined, found himself on his knees at the end of my sword within moments. My chest heaved with exertion, and also with emotion.
I had dreamt of this moment for years.
Stealing a quick look at Christus, who was tensed, alternating his attention between the giant who now skirted the arena, and me, to make certain that I was okay.
He nodded solemnly. “He is yours to kill.”
The words hit deep. Staring into the eyes of my tormentor, I raised my sword, preparing to plunge it deeply into his chest.
I found that I could not. My hand shook as I stood suspended. I could hear the roar of the crowd, as if from a distance, urging me to do it, to kill.
I raised my head, looked at my lover. “I cannot. He does not deserve even the kindness of death, not from me.”
Christus’ eyes questioned me, and I nodded at the unspoken question. Striding fo
rward, he lifted his own sword, and in answer I dropped my own.
“It is him or us, Lilia.”
His sword slashed through the air, a streak of silver. I shuddered but did not turn away, watching the blade slice through flesh. When the sword had struck home, Christus looked up at me, and I saw my own feelings again reflected there.
There was no joy in killing—there was no longer even the rush of victory. There was simply survival.
“I will choose you every time.” Wrenching his arm back, Christus pulled the sword from Bavarius’ body. The dead man slumped to the sand, a massive wound gaping open in his chest.
I swallowed as my tormentor hit the sand, great clouds of dust rising around him. Once my greatest wish had been to see him dead.
Instead I felt nothing. I had no feelings for him at all, neither good nor bad. As I looked at Christus, at the eye that was swelling shut, I knew that all of my emotion had been claimed elsewhere.
“That leaves just the one.” Christus’ voice was grim. The large gladiator had disappeared into the wreck of the ship, an area that I had not yet had chance to set foot on. Nerves began to twang in my body.
We were so close to being the final two. So close to making our stand by refusing to kill each other.
“We should rest for a moment, while he is far away.” Placing my hands on my knees and trying to will strength back into my fatigued muscles, I glanced up at the balcony where Gaius, his women, his slaves, and his soldiers had been watching the games.
A chill washed over me as I realized that he was no longer there. Realization crashed over me in a wave, one of those gut feelings that had served me so well in the arena in the past.
I had no information on which to base it, but I knew that Gaius’ disappearance had something to do with me.
“Christus!” I stood straight, my fatigue disappearing in a rush of adrenaline. “Something is coming. Some sort of trick. Gaius will not allow the games to end so calmly.” Christus did not ask me how I knew this, simply nodded and pulled at my arm, pulling me in tightly toward him.
The screech of metal grinding against metal rent the air, and the crowd again fell silent. They, as we, were straining to see what the gate that was being lifted at the far end of the arena would reveal. They watched with glee, however, and Christus and I with dread.
The games had gone by so fast that Gaius needed something large to end them. And for the first time since proposing that we simply be the last two to live, and to refuse to kill each other, I wondered if it was even possible to live through something that had come from the twisted mind of Gaius.
“What is that?” A great roar sounded through the air, and people in the crowd squealed in fright. Ice filled my veins as I saw a great orange beast stalk out from the holding area.
My mouth fell open in shock. It was a great cat, but one far larger and more exotic than any I had ever seen. Its fur was the color of the sun, striped through with inky black. It was larger than a man, and tension and agitation were clear in its coiled muscles.
The beast had clearly been provoked, likely at Gaius’ instruction. The noises from the crowd were upsetting it all the more. I cast a quick look at Christus to find that he, too, was in shock.
It was one thing to fight another human, for even with differences in size and strength, there was hope. How were we to survive against a strange beast who had been angered and was now on the hunt?
I had encountered beasts in the arena before—lions and bears. They were usually tethered by long chains, however, and that this angry, abused creature was allowed to roam free showed another extent of Gaius’ madness.
“Lilia.” I saw Christus try to size up the situation, just as I was, and saw the same finality on his features. There was no way out of this, none at all.
The beast turned at that moment, as if it had suddenly sensed that it was being watched. Its intelligent eyes fixed on us, and it cocked its head to one side before slowly beginning the long march across the sand.
It was heading straight toward us.
“Be still.” Christus’ words were an order, and I could not have moved if I’d wanted to. Possibly the smart move would have been to strike, to try to kill the beast before it killed me, but I could not bring myself to lay a hand on the beautiful, fierce creature.
It had been brought into the arena just as we had, through no choice of its own. Its apparent anger was not its fault either, and I could not imagine killing a beast that was so magnificent and innocent.
A low growl whispered through the air, just loud enough for us to hear. Turning, I saw that the other gladiator who still lived had emerged from the depths of the shipwreck, and was stalking toward us. Murder was in his eyes, and I could not blame him. He was so close to winning the games, to winning his life, and he did not care about saving the life of another.
He intended to strike at us while we were distracted by the great cat, then to hope that he survived the beast himself.
I did not know what to do, and the instincts that had led me to so many successes in the arena had fled.
I prayed to the gods for guidance.
“End this now!” the gladiator shouted as he broke into a run, and I saw the trembling in his muscles, which were sheened with sweat. He was as fatigued as we were. I tensed, ready to counter, and heard an unearthly roar echoing from behind us.
A quick glance over my shoulder told me that the cat was on the move, running with an inhuman grace. The sudden movement of the gladiator had spooked it, and it thought it was being attacked.
“Lilia!” Christus shoved at me, and I tried to hold my ground, knowing what he was trying to do. “Run!”
The gladiator moved past me and swung his sword in a wide arc at Christus. I cried out, then saw the flash of orange, muscles bunched tense, flying straight for me.
I listened. I ran.
The shipwreck was near, and I darted inside, hoping that the closed off-interior would deter the beast. It paused for a moment, then leapt onto the railing, the wood splintering beneath its great weight.
I darted back out into the open, my one thought to get to Christus. I saw him reach for me as he swung his own blade at the massive gladiator with his free hand. I was nearly there—we could defeat the warrior together, I knew it.
A hole appeared in the sand directly before me—a trapdoor of some sort. I could not stop my momentum, and my feet moved from hot sand to air.
The last thing I saw was Christus’ face, his expression wide with horror as a shining blade sliced down toward his neck.
From the sounds made by the crowd, I could tell they thought that I had been killed. I flailed my arms and legs wildly as I fell, my scream caught in my throat. It was not a long fall, but it felt like forever until my body slammed into wooden boards that had no give, no softness to cushion the blow.
Dust rained down around me, and I flinched, covering my face with my hands as a beast, one of the ones that must have been used in the arena earlier that day, roared loudly. I prepared for the creature to spring, heard the rattle of metal bars and the wounded howl as the animal slammed against the unyielding metal.
The noise was deafening, at least at first. Slowly, the ringing in my ears faded, but I still saw spots dancing before my eyes when I opened them, so I squeezed them shut again.
Gradually I took stock of my body. Everything hurt—I would be a rainbow of bruises come morning, if I lived that long.
That begged the question—where was I? I could still hear Christus’ cry, echoing in my ears. He had seen me disappear through the trapdoor. What was he thinking now? Did he think me dead?
The sounds of footsteps made their way into my consciousness. My heart beating a rapid tattoo in my chest, I scrabbled to my knees, willed myself to sit up straight.
Squinting through the dim light, I could see the figure of a man coming toward me, though I had fallen hard enough that if I tilted my head too far to one side, the one man appeared as two.
When
the man walked into a thin beam of light that filtered through a crack from somewhere above, my breath caught in my throat. The trapdoor had closed above me. I knew then that though I was still alive, my torment was far from over.
“Hello, Lilia.”
Flinching at the words, I curled into a ball. I had not fought so hard in the games to succumb to Gaius now.
From above my constricted frame, however, I heard the sound of his laughter, filtering through the muted roar of the crowd from above. Still I tried to protect myself, expecting his fingers, his hands, his mouth to begin to paw at me.
The touch did not come. Slowly, I unfurled, lifting my head to look up into the face of the man who had so much power over me. His lips were curled into a cruel smile, and my stomach rolled.
“Relax, Lilia. I will not touch you now.” The words sounded too good to be true. “You stink of blood and dirt and animals. You are not fit for my hands. But tomorrow—tomorrow is another story.”
Holding out a hand to me, he seemed to expect me to take it, to let him help me rise. I scrambled to my feet alone, glowering at the soft palm of a man who had never had to work for a thing in his life.
He did not like this, this obvious repulsion that I felt toward him. Anger set over his features, so cold that I felt the chill seep down deep into my bones.
“Tomorrow, after you have been properly bathed, groomed, and made to look like a female again—that is when we shall be together.”
My heart sank, all the way down to my toes. I did not know if there would be a way out of this.
“Tomorrow evening, we will dine together. I will treat you to an experience the likes of which you have never had in your lifetime.”
He inhaled deeply, as if savoring the scent of a rich wine, or a perfumed oil, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, they fixed on me unerringly, and I shuddered.
“Tomorrow night, you will be mine.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
I screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of my room.
Seduced by the Gladiator Page 19