26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
T hrax
A jumble of clattering dishes and muffled conversations surround me at breakfast. I sit across from Skye, her warm brown eyes fixed on mine. Magically, the rest of the world fades away.
She’s been fidgeting with her fork for the past few minutes, pushing her food around her plate, clearly working up to something.
“Thrax.” Her voice is tight. Perhaps a hint of nerves? “I wanted to talk to you about… dating.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “Dating? You mean… like fruit?”
A small laugh escapes her lips, the sound warming my chest. “No, not that kind of date. I mean dating as in… courtship, I guess you could say. How two people get to know each other… romantically.”
The idea feels foreign. Romance. What an odd concept. As a slave, no matter how kindly Fortuna looked upon me, romance would never be in my future. It’s thrilling to even think about it. I want to know more. “ How does this ‘dating’ work?”
Skye’s eyes light up, and she launches into an explanation. “Well, typically, one person asks another person out on a date. It could be dinner, a movie, or a walk in the park. The idea is to spend time together, just the two of you, to see if you’re compatible as you have fun.”
Before I can respond, she stammers, “I realize, we sorta, kinda skipped to the romance part with the kissing and we do spend a lot of time together working on the translation program and we share meals in the cafeteria but I want this to be special, fun.”
My mind reels, trying to grasp this unfamiliar concept. “And this is how people in your time find a mate?”
She nods, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Often, yes. It’s a way to get to know someone before committing to a more serious relationship.”
“How strange,” I muse, thinking back to my time. “In Rome, marriages were often arranged for political or financial reasons. Affection rarely factored into it, at least not for the upper classes.”
Skye leans forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What about for people like you? Gladiators and… well, regular people?”
“For slaves like me, marriage wasn’t an option. Some of the more successful gladiators might earn their freedom and marry, but it was rare. Or a gladiator who earned his master a lot of coin might be gifted a wife from one of the household slaves. That meant she shouldn’t be shared with another gladiator unless the dominus decreed it. She was still the master’s property after all, and what happened in the main house was out of a gladiator’s control. Mostly, we found comfort where we could, in fleeting moments when we fought well and were allowed a scorta .”
Her expression softens, a mixture of sadness and something else—perhaps pity?—crossing her face. “That sounds… lonely.”
I shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “It was what it was. We didn’t know any different, so we never hoped for more.”
That’s a lie, though. At night, alone in my bunk, I dreamed of a partner who wanted to hear my words, though I seldom shared them, who I could whisper to, braid her hair, seek comfort in her body, and give her pleasure.
Skye nods, then takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as though she’s preparing to enter the arena against a worthy foe. “Well, speaking of dating… I was wondering if… if you’d like to go on a date with me? Tonight?”
The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I’m struck speechless. This beautiful, intelligent woman wants to court me? It seems impossible, yet the hopeful look in her eyes tells me she’s sincere. I’m truly dense, since it seems this was what she’s been leading up to for the whole conversation.
“I… I would be honored ,” I manage to stammer out, my heart racing, pounding so hard I glance down to see if the movement can be seen through my shirt.
Relief floods her face, followed quickly by excitement. “Great! I’ve actually got it all planned out. I know you can’t leave the facility, so we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got here, but I promise it’ll be special. At least I hope so.”
As she launches into details about our upcoming date, I find myself swept up in her enthusiasm. This is clearly important to her, which makes it important to me. I vow silently to do everything in my power to make this experience perfect for her.
The rest of the day passes more quickly than usual. I pace my room, my mind racing with thoughts of what to expect. Should I bring a gift? No! The last time I tried that it resulted in feeling as though she ripped my heart from my chest.
What should I wear? In Rome, I never had to worry about such things. My life was simple—train, fight, survive. But this… this is an entirely new arena, one where I feel sorely unprepared.
I decide to ask for help. Laura’s assistant, Aline, is a friendly young woman who’s always been kind to me. Now that Skye’s given me a phone of my own, which is securely fastened to my new belt, I can speak through the translation device. Aline seems to understand my predicament and suggests I wear something nice but comfortable, and that flowers might be a thoughtful gesture.
With her approval, I go to the atrium to pick a small bunch of flowers. The colors and scents remind me of the fancy flowers in the homes of the patricians who used me, but I cast that thought aside. I choose a mix of white blooms and deep purple flowers that I think Skye will like, although they remind me of the times I saw the imperial color from the sands of the arena.
In the center of the atrium, there’s a small pedestal with a basin of water in it. Skye calls it a birdbath. I extract three of the most beautiful blooms from the bouquet, casting them one by one into the water as I whisper a prayer.
“For Cupid. So she sees my affection is true.”
“For Venus. So that Skye knows how truly beautiful she is.”
“For Amor. So that I might find… love one day.”
Back in my room, I change into the nicest clothes I have—a soft blue shirt and dark pants that Skye once said looked good on me. As the appointed time draws near, my palms grow sweaty and the stems of the flowers stick in my grip. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I disappoint her?
A soft knock at the door sends my heart racing even faster. Taking a deep breath, I open it to find Skye standing there, as lovely as Venus, in a flowing dress the color of the summer sky—my favorite. She’s styled her hair differently. The soft curls that usually frame her face have been pulled back by little pieces of jewelry. The style makes her eyes even prettier. The hint of color on her lips draws my gaze.
Remembering what Aline told me, I bow slightly, offering her the flowers. “For you,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Your beauty puts these blooms to shame, but I hope they please you. ”
Skye’s eyes widen, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she takes the bouquet. “Oh, Thrax,” she breathes, her gaze shining with appreciation. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
As she brings the flowers to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent, I allow myself a moment of pride. Perhaps I’m not entirely out of my depth in this new world after all.
I stand stiffly, waiting for the date to begin. She’s kept our activity a secret, but for some reason, I assume it will happen in the atrium.
She surprises me when she sets the flowers on the bed, grabs my hand, and pulls me out of my room as she urges, “Come with me.”