Chapter 18
Kallias idly swept his gaze over the arena’s packed stands in a lull between matches. The games held little interest for him, and he couldn’t help cataloguing all the better ways he could have spent his time if he’d been allowed to remain behind at the palace.
But the emperor wanted him here, so here he was.
Kallias sat a few rows behind Gaius and Drusilla, who chatted amiably as servants refilled their wine and offered them a variety of snacks from a gleaming silver platter. Elsewhere in the stands, food sellers hawked skewers of roasted meatballs, fried globi, and spiced nuts.
The noise of the crowd rose from a low rumble to a deafening roar as horns sounded, announcing the next match. The announcer was positioned right beside the emperor’s private seating area, so Kallias was one of the privileged few who could hear every word.
Even so, he was only half-listening, instead considering what remedy to try next for the palace maid with a persistent cough.
“…will face Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons!” the announcer shouted as the crowd cheered.
Kallias went rigid. Surely he’d misheard. Lea wasn’t fighting today.
He squinted at the sandy arena, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch as his gaze flicked from the first entering woman to the second. Sunlight blazed off golden greaves, and he would know that confident bearing and easy stride anywhere.
Lea was fighting. Which she’d explicitly told him she wasn’t going to do.
Suddenly her nerves yesterday—and her impulsive seduction—made sense. She knew she was going to fight, and she hadn’t told him.
The fight began, and Kallias’s nails dug into his palms. A stomach-churning mixture of anger and fear gripped him, holding him frozen.
It must be her manager’s doing, Kallias decided as Lea nimbly sidestepped what would have been a crushing blow from her opponent’s shield.
Yes, Lea’s manager must have forced her to fight, and she hadn’t wanted to tell him, knowing he’d raise an objection and do his best to put a stop to it.
He was going to have some pointed words for her manager as soon as this fight was over.
Lea’s opponent landed a powerful strike to Lea’s shield, and Lea stumbled back. Kallias’s heart leaped into his throat, and sweat broke out on his forehead. How was he supposed to survive watching this—witnessing Lea at risk every moment of being injured or killed?
His gaze broke away from the fight to find Gaius, leaning against the balustrade with Drusilla, watching eagerly and cheering at every successful strike.
Despite Gaius’s apparent forgiveness of Lea’s transgression, Kallias feared what would happen if Lea should lose, if the emperor’s unpredictable mind should be put in charge of her fate.
Please win, he prayed desperately.
Lea tripped on an uneven patch of sand and careened backward. Kallias’s stomach twisted itself into knots, horror tensing every muscle in his body.
But somehow, Lea managed to arrest her fall, find her balance.
With renewed vigor, she threw herself at her opponent.
The other woman, who must have expected Lea to end up on the ground, wasn’t prepared for the onslaught.
She faltered, and Lea drove her back two, three, four steps.
The opponent’s shield arm wavered, and in a flash, Lea seized the opportunity, slipping her sword behind the other woman’s defenses until it pointed to her throat.
The opponent dropped her shield and sword and raised both hands in surrender.
A dizzy rush of relief came over him. The crowd was on their feet cheering. Kallias must be the only one still seated, but his legs wouldn’t support him just yet.
He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. She survived. Didn’t even take an injury. Thank all the gods.
As Gaius surveyed the vanquished opponent, Kallias took advantage of the emperor’s distraction to rise to his feet, wobbling only a bit, and slip out of the box.
Lea collapsed onto a stool in the back area of the arena.
Her heart was still pounding with the exhilaration of victory, but her body was exhausted.
The two weeks of rest had taken their toll.
The sword and shield felt heavier, her feet clumsier.
Her wounded arm throbbed viciously. Hopefully she hadn’t done any serious damage; at least there weren’t stitches to be ripped out this time.
But both she and her opponent had left the arena in one piece, which was the best she could have hoped for.
Lucullus appeared at her side, handing her a cup of water. She drained it in a few gulps. He refilled it from a waterskin he carried and passed it back to her.
“You fought well,” he said. “How is your arm?”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Fine.” She was still breathing hard, her voice strained. Her legs shook. She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall behind her.
A moment later, a familiar voice sounded, though it was louder and angrier than she’d ever heard it. Her eyes flew open.
Kallias? Here?
“Are you her manager?” Kallias was demanding of Lucullus.
Lucullus folded his arms across his chest and surveyed Kallias with a cool gaze. “I am.”
Kallias’s nostrils flared. “What kind of manager sends an injured gladiator out to fight? Do you have any idea what damage you could have caused?”
“Kallias!” Lea shouted. He shot her a fraught glare, but returned his focus to Lucullus.
Lucullus’s brows drew together in a cold frown. “Penthesilea indicated to me that she was perfectly fit to fight.”
“She has a fucking stab wound,” Kallias spat. “I only took her stitches out yesterday. Of course she’s not fit to fight!”
“Kallias!” Lea yelled again, to no effect.
Lucullus’s gaze grew steely. “You’re very lucky I know who employs you, medicus, because if it were anyone else, you’d think twice before speaking to me in such a manner.”
Lea grabbed the closest thing at hand—her terracotta cup half-full of water—and hurled it at Kallias. It struck him squarely in the chest, splashing water over his tunic. He yelped and stumbled back. The cup clattered to the ground and smashed.
Finally, he looked at her—really looked at her, for longer than a moment.
“I told Lucullus I wanted to fight,” she said, words clipped as she uttered her confession. “I insisted on it.” I lied to you.
Kallias blinked, looking as dumbfounded as if she’d started speaking Gaulish. His mouth opened and closed.
Lucullus leveled his chin at Kallias. “Now that you have an accurate understanding of the situation, I’d thank you to leave my gladiators alone.” He held out an arm toward the exit.
Kallias cast one thorny, confused glance at Lea, then turned away and left. Lea watched him go, wishing she were strong enough to chase after him. Her insides twisted with guilt.
Despite what happened between them yesterday, she hadn’t expected him to care so much. To come back here and harangue her manager for, in his mind, mistreating her.
But he did care. And she’d repaid his care by lying to him.