8. Chapter 8
Once Velia gathered herself, she dressed and left her room.
She headed to the dining area where breakfast—barley porridge with honey and dried fruit—was currently being served.
A collection of gladiators dotted the space, some seated at the narrow tables, others eating while leaning against the wall.
She gave them a quick scan, but Ferox was not among them.
Achilles, however, was—but he wasn’t eating. He was glaring at Lea, who sat perched atop a table, her feet resting on the bench beneath it. She dangled the tail of her long, dark braid before Nyx, the ludus’s unpleasant cat, who swatted at it from where he sprawled on the table beside her.
Achilles cradled a bloodied hand to his chest. “That cat is a fucking menace!” he hissed. “This is the second time he’s scratched me!”
Lea twirled the end of her braid in front of Nyx. “Most people only make that mistake once,” she said coolly.
When Velia first arrived at the ludus, she’d wondered why Nyx was named after the Greek word for night, as he wasn’t a black cat.
Soon, she’d learned the name reflected the creature’s black as night personality.
Lea was the only person the cat tolerated.
Anyone else who got too close earned either a hiss or a swat.
Velia had at first thought the cat simply preferred females, but she herself had never been able to get within an arm’s length of the beast without incurring his wrath.
Achilles’s fair skin reddened. “I’m going to break its fucking neck.”
Lea glanced up. “You lay a finger on that cat and you’ll soon find you have a few less fingers.”
Achilles took a step closer. “Is that a threat?”
A sardonic smile curved Lea’s lips. “Oh good, you do understand some things.” She hopped down from the table, coming to stand before him.
She was of average height for a woman, which made her taller than Velia but shorter than most of the men.
Even so, Velia didn’t miss the tiny backward step Achilles took at her proximity.
Lea crossed her arms. “Why don’t we settle this like gladiators?” She jerked her head toward the door to the training ground. “If I win, you never so much as look at that cat again. If you win, you can do as you like with him. Provided you can catch him, that is.”
Velia’s stomach tightened with anxiety. “Stop this!” She jogged over and hastily inserted herself between them, half-expecting to be incinerated where she stood based on the way they were glaring at each other.
Lea wouldn’t issue such a challenge unless she were fully certain of victory.
Though Lea only fought in the arena against other women, Velia had seen her spar often enough against the men that she knew not to underestimate her.
Besides, Lea had years of experience and training as a gladiator.
Achilles had a week. Velia couldn’t afford him being injured in a foolish brawl.
It would destroy any hope of victory in his first official match.
She shoved a hand against Achilles’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. “Everyone knows not to interfere with Nyx. Now you know that too. And you—” Velia spun around, facing Lea. “Surely you have better things to do than pick fights with a novice.”
Behind her, Achilles spoke. “I wouldn’t have fought a girl, anyway.”
“You had no problem punching Velia the day you got here,” Lea retorted.
“She made me!”
Velia raised a hand. “No one is fighting anyone!”
Jason appeared at Lea’s shoulder, and Velia relaxed a bit. Jason had always been one of the more reasonable ones, able to calm arguments and broker peace.
“Let him alone,” Jason said quietly to Lea. “Velia is right. There’s no honor in besting a novice with barely a week of training.”
Lea’s hot, dark gaze slid from Velia to Achilles. Finally, she took a step back. “If I discover that so much as one whisker on Nyx has been harmed…”
“No one is going to touch Nyx,” Velia insisted.
With one last glare, Lea seemed to accept this, and returned to her perch atop the table. Nyx had been watching the proceedings with his vivid yellow eyes, and he gave Lea’s hand a bump with his head, as if to reward her for defending him.
Velia faced Achilles. “Did you hear that? You’re to leave the cat alone. Just like the rest of us.”
He glowered at her. She hoped he recognized that she’d saved him from certain humiliation and probable injury by putting a stop to this brawl.
“Fine,” he grunted. A muscle in his jaw pulsed.
As he turned away, he muttered something under his breath that Velia could only just make out. “Suppose one sow will defend another.”
She tensed. “What did you just—”
Before she could finish the sentence, a hand seized Achilles’s throat. Ferox barreled past Velia and shoved the sputtering novice against the nearest column. “Say that again,” Ferox demanded, his voice a raspy growl.
He’d come out of nowhere; he must have entered while she’d been occupied with Achilles and Lea.
Achilles’s panicked eyes flicked from Ferox to Velia and back again. He wheezed incoherently.
“Ferox! Stop it!” Velia shouted. First Lea, now this. Achilles might not have to worry about losing in the arena if the gladiators of his own ludus got to him first.
Ferox loosened his grasp on Achilles’s throat just a little, but didn’t release him. “Apologize.”
Achilles swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against Ferox’s grip. “S-s-sorry,” he croaked.
“To them.” Ferox jerked his head toward Velia and Lea, still with Nyx on the table.
Achilles’s face was nearly as red as his hair. His gaze passed from Velia to Lea, and he choked out another apology. Lea acknowledged it with a roll of her eyes.
Velia didn’t want an apology; she wanted Ferox to stop throttling her novice. “Let him go, Ferox,” she said through gritted teeth.
Ferox narrowed his eyes at Achilles. “If I ever hear you say something like that again, you’ll be sleeping on a pillow filled with pig shit. Understand?”
Achilles nodded. Finally, Ferox released the novice, who sprang away from him, rubbing his throat. Ferox jerked his head toward the door. “Five laps.”
“I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet!” Achilles protested.
“Now,” Ferox said. “Or it’ll be ten.”
Achilles shot them both a glare laden with pique, but turned and trudged toward the door.
Velia exhaled, but she couldn’t fully relax just yet. She grabbed Ferox’s arm and towed him a short distance from the others so they could speak in private. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” she snapped.
He looked down at her, his gaze stony and unrepentant. “You can’t let him speak to you—or Lea—that way.”
“Who said I was going to let him? You didn’t give me the chance to handle it.” Irritation simmered over her. She’d spent the last year earning the respect of her uncle’s gladiators. She knew how to deal with rude comments.
“You made me his trainer,” he shot back. “I’m entitled to discipline him for poor behavior.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m his manager. And your employer, when it comes to Achilles.” She took a small step closer to him, lowering her voice just in case others could hear. “This isn’t like yesterday, with the thief. I don’t need you to protect me from my own novice.”
His eyes darkened at the memory.
“And if you think just because we…because we kissed”—the words tangled themselves in her mouth for a moment—“that entitles you to any claim on defending my honor—”
“No,” he snapped. The word was sharp as a knife point. “That’s not what I think.”
“Good.” She gazed at him. This was the first time she’d seen him since yesterday, and the memory of that fiery kiss stole over her…not to mention her fantasies about doing more than kissing. A rush of longing stoppered her breath for a moment.
He stepped away from her. “That idiot will short his laps if I don’t count them.” Without waiting for her to reply, he turned and headed after Achilles.