by Auryn Hadley
"All of them," Theodian said, standing quietly with Horace. "We've got two days, Plague. Let's show these men how to survive their first fight."
Temotio cast a quick look to Leyli and Tristan, but addressed his words to Theodian. "Does this make us gladiators?"
"No." Theodian just chuckled. "Until you have five fights under your belt - and are still alive - you're just a scrub. After that, you're a novice. At twenty-five wins, you get to be called a gladiator. Make it to fifty and they call you a veteran. One hundred? Good. Deadly. Two hundred?" He looked at Tristan. "A king of the arena."
"And you're standing before two of them," Leyli said. "The two men who lived through their sentence. A bad gladiator is only called one thing: dead. If you want to be good, then listen to these men." She pulled herself from the ground. "Tristan, I need to check something."
Dusting himself off, he ordered, "Don't go easy on them, and if any guards get out of line, I will replace them. If Theodian says you don't have the talent to do the job, I'll replace you. Am I clear?"
The entire guard mumbled, "Yeah."
That was all he needed. Gesturing back to the palace, Tristan fell in just behind Leyli and to her right. It's where he belonged. Where her shield and his sword would protect them both. Walking back through the stables, Leyli realized just how hard old habits were to kill off. It worked because of her position, and the idea that her protector should follow in her shadow, but she no longer got a shield to keep them safe. That meant she had a bit to learn, too.
"You had an idea?" Tristan asked, once they were out of sight.
"Two. The first is that the guys will learn better without either of us around. The second? Theodian used the same classifications you did. I mean, for the ranks of gladiators. So why can't we increase the payouts and debt reduction for higher ranking ones? The fights get harder, but the gladiators are still watching their debt grow instead of shrink."
"Ok?" He was obviously confused.
"I should be able to mandate the official classifications without anything but Dad's signature. That will make it an amendment to the law. It's a step. It's not a solution, but it will help until I can find one."
He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. "Ley, are you just trying to find an excuse to sit? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine." She pressed her hand to his chest, right over his heart, and smiled. "I promise. I'm fine, I just swore that I'd fix this. When I killed that first man, I told myself I'd make it up to his family, and this is the only way I can do that. I can't live with myself if I don't try, Tristan."
He pressed his hand over hers. "And finding a husband?"
"Can wait." Her shoulders sagged. "I don't want to think about that today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, but don't make me think about that today? I don't want someone else ruining what should be perfect."
Tristan shifted closer. "Perfect?"
"Yeah. In its own way."
"I can live with perfect. Now let's get you a bath and something more comfortable to wear. Then you can lounge in bed while you read through all those rules you have to wade through."
"Bed." She stepped back. "Sounds like a great idea."
Chuckling, he followed, letting her lead him like a hound. "Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah. I think you should notify my maids that I shouldn't be disturbed. Going to take complete focus to find this law, and the scribe's hand is impossible to read."
He smiled, nodding slowly. "I do like the way you think, Highness. If you're nice, I might even help you, uh, look."
"Will probably take hours. Maybe even the rest of the day."
"Hours, huh?" His eyes drifted across her body. "Somehow you make these tedious duties sound so very tempting."
Turning, she nearly skipped back to her suite. "And tell the staff not to disturb us before dinner?"
"What about lunch?"
She giggled. "I'll be occupied."
Chapter 20
And she was occupied, all through the rest of the night. Most of the time was spent enjoying Tristan's attention, but she managed to find what she was looking for and write up a small proposal. After breakfast, with Tristan at her side, she took it to her father, hoping he'd be willing to sign it and start changing the fate of so many gladiators.
At that time of morning, he was in the gold room. One of his guards tapped at the door as Leyli approached, pulling it open before she reached them. On the other side, her father looked up with a furrowed brow, obviously confused at being disturbed. Leyli claimed the chair before him, leaving Tristan to stand behind her.
The door closed and Ilario chuckled. "Sit, Lion. We're alone and I don't care for ceremony." Then he turned to his daughter. "Why are you here?"
Leyli slid her paperwork across his desk. "A declaration of addendum. I want you to sign that and make it applicable immediately."
The King's eyes roamed across the page before he spoke again. When he reached the bottom, he rubbed at his mouth, set the paper down, then sighed. "Leyli, this won't change anything. You know that, right?"
"Actually." She tapped the listing of classes. "These will. This is the reason I want you to approve it. The change is innocuous, but important. Fourth class gladiators are those who have just been sold into the games. They have no skill, no experience, and are unlikely to live. Third class are those who have been purchased to participate in a team, who do not otherwise fit in another category. Second class are those who have more wins, enough to qualify them as veterans. First class are those who have achieved one hundred victories."
"So this makes it easier to talk about them? What else does it do? How does this help, Leyli?"
"By itself? It does nothing. I can claim that this makes discussion about the subject easier. It helps track the records of the men and women serving their sentence. There is nothing about it to contest, correct?"
"Yes..." Her father was very confused.
Leyli smiled. "But if my proposal for changing the games falls through, this lays the foundation for increasing payback rates, adding humanitarian restrictions to novice fighters so they aren't slaughtered without a chance, and such. Most importantly, it gives Theodian a way to start the discussion."
The last part made her father look up. "What discussion?"
"About how he's making record profits since changing his management system. About how the law says he can buy a fourth class fighter and use him in the kitchens, making the most of his investment while the man is trained to fight and live through it. It also places a value on those who keep surviving. It makes them worth pampering and protecting."
"Why?" her dad asked.
"Because they're first class gladiators. They are the best ones. That will make team owners want to run strings of nothing else, so they will pay top prices for them, and the victory prizes will grow along with it."
The King was smiling. "Public perception will help these men live longer?"
"And earn their freedom sooner. Right now, a man with two hundred victories can be slated against a fighter who never held a sword and earn the same handful of shit as he would fighting someone like Tristan. With the classes listed, the arenas will be more likely to demand even - or more balanced - fights. That means the team owners will expect more money as a reward. They already use these categories to discuss their slaves, but by recognizing it in the laws, they will actually do something about it."
Her dad reached for his pen. "Very nice. Minimal interference in the lives of our people, yet a significant chance of benefit." He scrawled his name across the bottom, then picked up a heavy ring. "I'm proud of you, child. If this is an example of how you will legislate, then I think Norihame has a lot to look forward to."
"Thanks, Dad."
"You're welcome." He stamped the seal in ink then pressed it under his name, making the addendum legal. "Now I want to talk about your vacation."
She leaned back, her mission accomplished. "Ok?"
"How long will you be gone?"
"A wee
k there, a week back, and I'd like at least two weeks in Lenlochlien, so let's say a month."
Ilario looked over to Tristan. "Will your family have space for the mess she's going to make?"
"It's not impressive, but we have plenty of land. The house, however, isn't much larger than this room." He turned, looking behind him. "Maybe a bit more. Private space is limited. We can always stay in town."
Leyli shook her head. "No. We can put the guards up, but I want some peace and quiet."
"And I'd like to see my family, not spend all day riding back and forth," Tristan admitted.
Ilario held up a hand, bringing their attention back to him. "It doesn't matter if you let her sleep on the floor. The rumor will only make her more popular, and the reality is that she's suffered worse. Just stay at her side, Tristan. I don't want her cousin to send someone to raid your family farm because he thinks security will be lax."
"Between the sheep and the people, I think we'll know long before they could get close." Tristan smiled at Leyli. "Means you'll get to sleep in my childhood room, pup."
"Sharing," Ilario said. "I doubt my daughter has become prudish in a few weeks. We'll just make sure that the staff assigned to join you are all able to forget anything they see. Alain already recommended a driver."
Leyli sat up. "Gregori, one of my guards, said he had a recommendation, too. An older man who has proven he couldn't be bought."
"Might be the same guy." Ilario shrugged. "If not, then we have both drivers. I'm having lunch with him today, so will make sure it's all sorted out. When do you leave?"
"In the morning." Leyli pushed her chair back, hearing the distraction in her father's voice. "We'll get out of your way, Dad. Thanks for signing that."
Even before she made it out of the room, her father was lost in the laws and disputes that took up most of his days. Ruling a nation wasn't exactly glamorous - at least not most days. Her family had been doing it for so many generations that they didn't know anything else. Until Leyli had been thrown into the games, she hadn't realized there were other options. In her sheltered view back then, men made laws and women made babies. Now, she was expected to do both.
"Tristan?" she asked, halfway back to her suite.
He moved up to her side. "Yeah?"
"What's farming like?"
He groaned. "Hard. Around sunrise, the cows have to be milked. Soon as that's done, they're turned out to spend all day eating, so they don't drop weight or dry up. In the spring and fall, everything stops so the fields can be planted or harvested. The men spend all day in the fields either chasing livestock or checking the plants and pulling out weeds or small trees. The women keep the larder stocked, store the dry goods, and use or smoke the meats before they go bad. There's a lot to do and not enough hours."
"Worse than being a gladiator?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Yes and no. It's happy work, and you get to see progress, but each day is longer and just as exhausting." He looked down at her face. "Why?"
Leyli gestured to the stone halls and gilt designs. "Because this is what I've always thought of as normal."
"Waking up at noon, spending all day worrying about how you look, and letting someone else make sure your meals taste good?" He shifted closer. "Oh how you have suffered, Ley. You had to use candles to read instead of just waking up earlier!"
"Or both!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll have you know that before I was a gladiator, I spent all day sewing, putting little wolves into every inch of trim my father wears!"
He dug his fingers into her ribs and wiggled, holding her before him while tickling. "You lie! I've never seen you sew!"
"I did!" she squealed, breaking free.
Laughing, he stalked her. "Did not. It's all a myth. You were a brazen woman, admit it!"
She ducked into a side hall, trying to evade. "I was polite and demure."
"You? Impossible." He moved faster, almost jogging.
Leyli backed quickly, her skirts swirling around her legs. "I even batted my lashes at the men I thought were good enough to marry. Spent hours making sure I looked attractive enough to marry and - "
Tristan caught her, pressing her into the wall. "You never batted your lashes at me."
"I was too scared."
One of his brows slid higher. "You didn't look scared. I remember standing there while you walked off the sands. You looked proud yet bored, as if the entire thing was beneath you."
She sucked in a breath. "And you grabbed my arm."
"Yeah." He glanced down the hall before gently cupping her face. "It was like I'd pulled you from a dream. Your eyes were so big I thought I'd fall into them, but it wasn't true fear. It was determination like I'd never seen before."
"I wanted to live."
He let his thumb play along her lip. "I wanted you to live, too. From the moment I walked past your cell until you were chained beside me, I couldn't stop thinking about you."
Her teeth caught that lip in her mouth and she looked down to hide the giggle. "Until that woman showed up."
"Then I closed my eyes and tried to pretend she was the goddess in the cell beside me. You are beautiful, Leylani Meridia Aravatti, and you're mine."
She looked up the hall. "Tristan."
"There's no one here."
"There could be!"
She tried to slide out from his grip, but his hand caught her waist. "I want to kiss you, Ley."
"You can't." She pulled his hand off. "Not here."
He just caught her again. "Didn't say I was going to. I said I want to. Every time I see you, I want to feel you against me and know that you're all mine."
Slowly, Leyli looked up into his eyes. "I think you should show me the garden."
"No, pup. You're the Princess. I think you should show me. I think you should stop acting like you're supposed to be my bitch and start demanding."
His hand slid down the side of her throat, over her collar bones, just brushing the flesh above her breast. Leyli felt her body responding. As a girl, she'd dreamed of a man wanting her like this, but it'd been so different. She'd never imagined a man could respect her as well as desire her. The thought of him wanting her to be his equal?
Leyli leaned forward, stretching so her mouth was beside his ear. "If you can catch me, Lion, I might even let you lift this skirt behind the roses." Then she pushed.
He staggered back, a truly shocked look on his face, but it was the advantage she needed. "Bitch!" he spit after her, but it sounded mostly amused. Then he ran.
Leyli knew her way around the palace. She'd grown up here, but Tristan was starting to learn. Her best chance was to use the lesser known halls. Not that she really wanted to avoid him, but her pride wouldn't let her make it easy. Either he caught her and she made good on her promise, or she evaded him and took him back to her room. Either way, she won in the end.
"You can't get away that easy," he warned.
She giggled, sliding around a corner. Tristan's steps were so close. She didn't dare look back, not unless she wanted to give him the advantage. He was laughing almost as hard as she was. On impulse, Leyli ducked across the hall, grabbing one of the dusty handles. She twisted and shoved in a single motion, expecting an unused room.
She found a linen closet, long ago stripped of whatever had once filled it. A split second later, Tristan rushed in behind her. His eyes scanned the space, then he smiled and pushed the door closed. In the darkness, they were chest to chest, breathing hard.
"I thought it was a room," she explained.
His hands found her waist. "It kinda is."
"I meant a guest room. This is the diplomatic wing. We use it when - "
Tristan didn't let her finish. "Don't care. You just said it's quiet, secluded, and we're all alone." She felt his touch moving higher. "Unless you want me to stop?"
"No."
Calloused fingers traced the neckline, peeking just under the lip of fabric to tease her breasts. The heat of his palms hovered so close. Leyli gave into
him, begging the wall to keep her on her feet and Tristan to hold her steady.
"Being loved," he whispered, "isn't about laying in bed and praying for conception. Neither the bed, nor the praying." His mouth found her throat. "It's so much more, Ley, and you deserve all of it."
Just as he pushed the cloth lower, exposing her breasts to the air, they both heard a door close. Under his breath, Tristan cursed. Leyli yanked her dress back into place, her heart pounding in her chest. If they were discovered like this, the gossip would spread out of control. Her father had warned her! She never should have done this inside the palace.
"Shh," Tristan breathed, as if she needed the warning.
Leyli wanted to kick him for it, but knew that would only make more noise. All she could do was press herself into the wall, hoping no one had a need for this room. The way her luck ran, this would be exactly where they were headed. Tristan, on the other hand, was moving to the door. Before she knew what he planned, the sliver of light proved he'd opened it. Silently.
With his eye pressed to the crack, they both waited. Leyli could barely hear a thing, but in the distance she could make out men's voices. It wasn't much, but it proved they weren't alone. She wanted to beg Tristan to tell her what was happening, but held her tongue. The voices eventually faded until she couldn't hear a thing.
Finally, her Secor sighed and relaxed. Letting the door thump back into place, he dropped against the wall, mirroring her position. "They're gone."
"Who?" she asked, keeping her voice down.
"Dunno. Man in the Lanmont dragon and some dark skinned men wearing red."
Leyli patted her sternum. "Big silver eagle in the center of the body? Front and back?"
"A bird," he agreed.
She nodded, aware he might not be able to see it after looking at the brighter hall. "Rhian envoy of some kind. Explains why they're in this hall. Like I said, only diplomats and trade negotiators are put up on this side of the palace. The people who would feel awkward mingling with Norihamers or don't understand our culture and could cause problems."