Chapter 19
Once Lea regained some of her strength, she returned to the ludus, where she washed, changed clothes, and ate.
She longed to visit the baths, but the women’s bathing hours were in the morning, so that would have to wait.
As the day waned, she held out a brief hope that Kallias might come see her, give her a chance to explain.
She’d made a mistake by lying to him. A week ago, she could have told herself it didn’t matter, that she’d simply done what was best for herself.
But the intimacy they’d shared cast everything in a new light.
Something was growing between them, something strange and new and fragile, and her deception may well have crushed it beneath her heel.
Maybe it’s for the best that way, an insidious voice inside her suggested. You don’t belong with him.
No. Somehow, this thing between her and Kallias had grown past the point she could walk away. He’d wrapped himself around her, like ivy claiming a structure, and she didn’t think she could tear herself free without damaging them both.
When the day’s matches finished, Lucullus delivered her winnings—one thousand sestertii.
She stowed the coins with the rest of her money, eyeing the stash regretfully.
This set of games was about to end, and today had been her last scheduled match.
She still had a long way to go to earn the forty thousand she needed.
Kallias made no appearance. It didn’t surprise her, despite her hope. She’d seen the hurt on his face when he realized she’d lied to him. That expression haunted her, spurring her to toss and turn all night.
She couldn’t help thinking of Hector. They had always been scrupulously truthful with each other. If he were here now—if he knew she’d lied to a man she cared about—he’d probably throw a pillow at her and say something like “Why the fuck are you still here? Go apologize to him, you bloody idiot.”
When morning arrived, she made a decision. If Kallias wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him. She had to make this right—had to explain why she’d lied and hope he would forgive her.
After a trip to the baths, which she couldn’t even properly enjoy because of how guilty she felt, Lea spent the day resting and stretching her sore muscles.
When twilight fell, she donned a cloak and left the ludus.
She made her way to the imperial palace, where she circled around the outside of the walled complex.
She’d noticed in her prior visits that the guards were concentrated at the entrances, which left most of the perimeter unmonitored.
Lea found a stretch of wall at the back that bordered an empty street. She wasn’t sure what part of the palace was on the other side of the wall, but she hoped it was an area used by the staff.
Lea approached the wall, finding a patch of crumbling stone which provided useful holds for her hands and feet. She cast a quick glance up and down the street, then hoisted herself up.
She was halfway up the wall when she realized: if Kallias was angry that she’d fought with an injured arm, he probably wouldn’t be pleased that she’d scaled a wall either.
Well, it was too late for regrets. She climbed quickly, swung her legs over the top, then dropped.
Her feet hit a patch of dirt. She cast her gaze around the shadowy space.
It appeared to be a garden, but not a decorative one.
She spotted rows of herb bushes and vegetable plantings, along with a few fruit trees further away.
This must be the kitchen garden—blissfully empty at this hour.
Across the expanse of neat dirt rows, light spilled from behind a door.
Lea walked toward it, found it unlocked, and entered a small room crowded with gardening tools.
Beyond was a hallway. She removed her cloak, bundling it into her hands, and walked down the corridor with as much confidence as she could muster.
A few people passed her as she proceeded further into the building.
She increased her pace, as if she were a servant on an urgent errand, and no one stopped her.
Lea wound through the hallways until she found something that looked familiar from her last visit—the passage that led to Kallias’s office and bedroom. She turned down it and soon stood outside the door to his office.
She heard nothing from within, but light flickered. Good: he was there, but alone. His eager assistant must have gone home for the day by now.
Lea tapped on the door.
Muffled noises reached her ear—the rustling of papers, a chair scraping against the floor. “Come in,” Kallias called.
Lea opened the door and stepped through. He was seated at his worktable, inscribing notes onto a scroll of papyrus, but he shot to his feet when he saw her. His reed pen clattered to the ground.
“Lea,” he gasped. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“I scaled a wall.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult.”
“You scaled…a wall,” he repeated, as if he didn’t understand the words.
She moved toward him. “I needed to see you.”
He bent to retrieve the fallen pen, then turned away to straighten the sheaf of papyrus on his table, not meeting her gaze. “I promised I’d visit you in a few days.”
“That would have been too long.” Now that the moment was here, all the things she wanted to say to him felt stuck inside her, like honey crystallized in a jar.
Apologizing was not something she did often.
What if she said the wrong thing and he refused to forgive her?
What if she ruined whatever fragile thing was growing between them?
But she took a deep breath and straightened her spine, just like she did before stepping out into the arena. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”
He spent another moment rearranging his papers, then swiveled back to face her. “You told me you weren’t going to fight. Then I thought your manager had forced you, and I went and made that scene, only to find out it was all your doing.”
The way he quietly laid out her wrongdoing made shame creep over her. It became an effort to hold his gaze, but she forced herself to. “I knew you wouldn’t approve. I figured it would just cause an argument. Neither of us would change our minds.”
“It wasn’t about changing my mind,” Kallias snapped. “It was about your safety and wellbeing. Do you know how difficult it was to sit up there and watch you, fearing every moment I’d have to witness you get hurt? Or worse, be killed?”
She flinched. That was why she’d once wanted to keep her distance from him; she was all too familiar with the pain of losing someone to the arena. But somehow, it had become too late for that. “You know I don’t have a choice about fighting.”
“This time, you did.” He scowled at her. “Your manager said you insisted on it. Why were you so determined to fight?”
“The games will be over soon. It was my last chance to compete. I’m trying to earn the money to buy my freedom.” She let out a weary sigh at the reminder of how much she still needed to amass. It might take years at this point.
He made a noise of acknowledgment. “How much do you need?”
“Lucullus wants forty thousand.”
He let out a low whistle. “You’re expensive.”
She grimaced. “Apparently, female gladiators are very valuable.”
“Perhaps you might be interested to know that I believe Gaius plans to declare an extension to the games.”
“Really?” That could only be a good thing. It meant more opportunities to fight, more chances to win.
Kallias leaned against the table behind him and nodded. “He’s going to formally announce Drusilla as his heir, and the games will honor her.”
“You could have told me that earlier,” Lea said. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have thought yesterday was my last chance to fight.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t lied to me and said you weren’t going to fight, I would have.”
She glanced away, chagrined. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you’d care that much.”
“How could you have thought that?” He reached out and cupped her cheek, his touch tender. “After what we shared?”
“I-I don’t know.” How utterly stupid she’d been.
“Well, I cared very much.” He stroked her cheek once more, then dropped his hand. “I have one question I want an honest answer to. Can you swear that?”
She met his gaze and nodded. “I swear.”
“Did you only wish to bed me because you were nervous about your fight?”
“No!” she protested. Her heart ached. The lying was bad enough, but she hadn’t fully comprehended how her deception must have hurt him.
“I swear, it wasn’t like that. It’s just—it was the day before the games and I was so nervous.
You were there, and I realized I could die the next day, and I didn’t want to die without—”
He drew her into his arms, cutting off her rapid flow of words. “It’s all right,” he murmured.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice muffled against his chest. “I never meant to hurt you.”
He ran a soothing hand down her back. “I forgive you. But no more lying, all right?”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. His forgiveness eased the tight knot of guilt inside her, and she cherished it like a jewel.
“I can’t believe you scaled a wall for me,” he said, a slight chuckle in his voice.
She snorted. “I can’t believe you shouted at my manager for me.”
He drew back from the embrace. “I should look at your arm while you’re here.”
She proffered the limb, and he unwrapped the bandage, inspecting the wound with a furrowed brow.
“It looks inflamed, but somehow you managed not to reopen it,” he pronounced.
He gave her a stern look. “You got very lucky. Let me make a poultice to soothe it. Sit.” He pointed at a stool, then went over to his shelves, gathering up a few ingredients.
Lea sat and watched him grind and mix the substances, the muscles of his lean forearms tensing as he worked the mortar and pestle. She could watch him do that all day. It should have been boring, but the confidence with which he handled his ingredients and tools entranced her.
She grimaced at the musty, vegetal smell that soon emerged. “Why does it always have to smell so bad?”
He gave her a frosty glare. “Believe me, I have things that smell even worse.”
That sounded like a threat, so Lea kept quiet, hoping he wouldn’t decide his poultice needed any additional ingredients.
Once the mixture was applied and a clean bandage wrapped around it, the smell dissipated. It did have a pleasantly cooling effect. “Thank you.” She rose from the stool, unsure if he wanted her to stay. “I should go before it gets too late.”
A crooked smile curved his mouth. He remained where he was, sitting on the stool beside her. “If you think I’m going to let you walk back alone after dark, you’re even stupider than I thought.”
A flood of warmth rushed through her. She really hadn’t wanted to leave, but she would have understood if he preferred some distance after their argument. She cocked her head, attempting a coy look. “So you’re going to walk me back?”
He snorted. “Then I’d have to walk back here alone in the dark, and I’m far too cowardly for that. No, you’re going to spend the night here.”
“I am?” She slid into his lap, thighs easily stretching to fit his hips between them. “The night is very long. I might get bored.”
His hands were already gathering handfuls of her dress, working to pull the fabric over her head. “I can think of several occupations for you.”