25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Katell grabbed a Samnite by his breastplate and pivoted towards the spear soaring through the air. The crowd responded with a deafening crescendo of screams. Ducking behind the warrior’s brawny frame, she dug her heels in the sand. The deadly steel point pierced his armour and chest, making her stumble. The Samnite went limp in her grasp, fresh blood running down his front. She dropped him to the ground.
The other Samnites cursed, encircling her again. They all carried different weapons, but the most dangerous one was the Rasennan double-edged short blade, perfect for cutting through armour.
Katell lunged for her Achaean sword lying in the bloody sand. A shadow fell across her, and she twisted in time to parry a three-pronged trident, aimed at her chest.
Her breath hitched, and a gasp rippled through the arena.
The bare-chested warrior attacked without relent. He hacked at her steel blade again and again, and before she could retaliate, another Samnite rushed to his aid, shield and sword in hand. A golden helmet with a crest of red feathers shimmered into existence, the visor hiding his face.
The crowd cheered at the sight of the Gift that belonged to one of Bruna’s most popular fighters—Vitus.
Katell gritted her teeth and rolled out of the way.
Aurelius be damned! Four Samnites against one was hardly a fair fight, but as long as her patron, Quintus Fabius, approved, she had no choice. It had been days since the arena master had taken her freedom. After the Trial, it became clear that if she wanted to escape the arena, then she needed to not only survive but also be the strongest. She needed to prove her worth, gain popularity with the audience, and bide her time until an opportunity presented itself.
And so, she killed.
For her freedom and Alena, she fought against every opponent Aurelius sent her way. The people warmed up to her, cheering the female warrior who dominated the fighting pit along with Sinope, Bruna’s champion. Since her Mark apparently belonged to Laran, and yet she wasn’t Rasennan, Aurelius had chosen to call her, the ‘Outsider’.
And with each victory, Quintus Fabius showered her with gifts. She was always well-clothed and fed, but he refused to hide her face behind a helmet and insisted that her servants braid her dark hair in intricate designs before a fight.
Katell may have been a slave, but her hair had never looked so good.
Her breaths came out in short gasps, and beads of sweat ran down her face. Fatigue pulled at her, but she had no choice other than to focus and keep fighting.
The three remaining Samnites worked together, trapping her close to the arena’s wall. The spear thrower, a tall blond covered in scars, unsheathed two curved daggers, a cruel grin forming below his visor.
Adjusting her grip on her sword, Katell waited for their next attack.
Each of them had made a name for themselves.
Each had gained a certain amount of wealth and popularity fighting for Bruna’s arena, especially Vitus.
But none of it mattered to her. The Samnites trained their whole lives for entertainment and money, not honour. These men were nothing but fools who would taste the sharp edge of her blade.
Vitus launched forward. She sidestepped his Rasennan sword, but his oblong shield knocked her off her feet. Her shoulder took the brunt of her fall, and she grunted, twisting out of the way of his blade, which was aimed at her neck.
She wouldn’t let herself be bested by an arrogant Samnite wearing a plumed helmet. What would Damocles think?
At the thought of her false father, the man who’d lied to her all her life, a fiery rage welled up within her, coiling in her gut.
Vitus swapped places with his bare-chested companion, who used a trident. Lighter on her feet, she dodged the weapon with ease and kicked him in the ribs. Bones cracked beneath her sandaled foot, and he flew across the arena with a cry. His body hit the wooden wall with such force that the stands above creaked and trembled.
The crowd gasped and then exploded into raucous cheers, chanting her name.
Catching her breath, Katell frowned at the warrior’s lifeless body. She hadn’t used that much strength. How had he flown so far?
There was no time to dwell on it. The remaining two Samnites advanced, unfazed by their companion’s death.
The Gifted one, Vitus, approached with caution, his face hidden behind his golden visor. “Aurelius will pay us good money to get rid of the Outsider bitch.”
Curved daggers gleamed in the late morning sun as the blond Samnite stared her right in the eye. “Time to pray to your gods.”
Katell raised an eyebrow. She’d heard all their threats and taunts before. They could curse her to Tartaros itself—none of their words had stopped her from beating them.
She snatched a bloodied Rasennan sword from the ground and twirled it in her hand. Cocky warriors were always her favourite. They made the most pitiful noises when they fell.
The two Samnites attacked together. Vitus used his superior skills with the short sword and shield to force her backwards. His companion timed his attacks between every push and thrust. They were perfectly synchronised, and she lost ground, unable to keep up with their fast-paced rhythm.
Her pulse pounded in her temples, and her muscles ached, yet she pushed until an idea came to mind. Even if the Samnites were more skilled, she still held another advantage over them besides her strength. One that she wasn’t afraid to use.
She waited for the curved dagger to slice through the air and rushed forward to meet it. The blade sank into her left arm guard, piercing through leather, steel plate, then her skin beneath—right down to her bone. Searing pain shot through her, and she ground her teeth, fighting the scream in her throat.
Before the blond Samnite could react, she snatched the blade from his hand.
Left with only one dagger, he drew back, cursing under his breath. Vitus’ shield came at her next, but she pivoted out of the way, ducking behind him. Rivulets of blood dripped down her arm as she pulled the dagger from her skin with a cry and lunged for the blond. The Samnite’s eyes bulged, his moves clumsy and slow as he parried her quick thrusts with only one curved dagger.
Seizing an opening, Katell struck and sliced off his arm at the elbow.
He screamed.
A flash of steel caught her eye, and in the next beat, Vitus barrelled into her.
The forceful impact sent her sprawling, and she crashed to the ground, cradling her injured arm. Vitus tried to crush her with his shield, but she grasped it with one hand, holding it in place. Her arm shook from effort, and the other throbbed dully, the pierced skin already knitting itself back together.
Gritting her teeth, Katell reached for the curved dagger she’d dropped with her injured arm. Once she gripped it, she summoned all her strength and stabbed Vitus in the foot. The blade sank through flesh and bone, embedding itself into the sandy ground below.
Vitus reeled back, howling in pain.
Wasting no time, Katell clutched a throwing knife stashed in her boot and sent it flying into the screaming blond Samnite’s throat. The one-armed warrior gasped, collapsing to the ground, blood gushing down his bare torso.
At once, Vitus’ movements grew frantic, betraying his panic despite the shimmering helmet hiding his face. He dropped his shield and tugged at the blade stuck in his foot with a roar.
Katell staggered to her feet, grinning.
It was over.
Vitus heaved, every pull more frantic and desperate than the next until he foolishly let go of his sword and gripped the dagger’s hilt with both hands. But no matter how much he pulled and tugged, the blade didn’t budge.
Katell gave him a feral smile. “Time to pray to your gods.”
He froze and then lunged for his sword, but it was too late. Katell’s blade sliced through the air in a downward arc, and warm blood splattered her clothes.
Vitus’ head rolled at her feet, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers, clamouring her name.
She glanced up towards the stands, catching her breath. The elated sea of bodies rocked the arena all around her, their bloodlust mirroring her own.
They knew she would win. That she wouldn’t stop until the blood of her enemies soaked the sandy arena.
They understood her thirst for violence, and she had shown them that no one could best her.
Gripping her bloodied sword, she lifted it high in the air and let the roars wash over her.
“Katell! Katell! Katell!”
They loved her.
And as long as they did, she’d survive another day.
Katell sat in her damp cell, observing her forearm in the dying golden sunlight. Only a faint white line remained of the cut she’d let the Samnite inflict upon her to gain the upper hand.
At her side, Sinope observed her every move. She brushed Katell’s hair and traced the exact spot Vitus’ sword had cut her shoulder.
The frown on her face said it all. The wound was gone.
“You seem to be developing a taste for the Pit.” Nik’s broad frame leaned against the opening between their cells.
His teasing didn’t bother her half as much as the Samnites’. Unlike them, Nik hadn’t joined the Pit willingly, and she could respect him for it. She told herself it had nothing to do with the dimple in his cheek every time his lips stretched into a smirk.
“You cut off that Samnite’s arm like you were chopping a tree,” he drawled. “Aurelius will be pleased.”
His bright blue eyes locked with hers for several beats.
“I only care about winning.” She looked away, and her skin flushed as she felt his gaze linger on her. “As long as the crowd loves me, there’s a chance for escape.”
Nik cocked his head to the side. “Escape?”
“Popular fighters are sometimes taken to feasts by their patrons.” She’d overheard the Samnites brag about the banquets they’d attended in Bruna. “That’s the perfect chance for escape.”
Sinope put down the brush on their shared bench. “They invite Samnites, yes, but not—”
“Do you even realise what they do to female slaves at these parties?” Nik cut in.
She didn’t, but the disgust laced in his voice gave her an inkling. “It’s still a chance.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “Aurelius would never allow you to leave.”
She bit back a retort, not wanting to start an argument while Sinope was weaving her thick curls into a single tight braid. Nik might have lost all hope of escaping the arena, but Katell hadn’t given up yet.
Somewhere outside of these walls, Alena was waiting for her.
Sinope broke the tense silence first. “Let us hope Aurelius is too busy with the new recruits to organise your next fight.”
“Let him do his worst.” Katell fiddled with the pin on her tunic, in no mood to be placated. Why the Rasennans insisted on tying their clothes with metal brooches rather than string or leather was beyond her. “I’m ready for it.”
Her Mark had revealed a hunger within her. A craving that could only be satiated once enough blood had been spilled. Though her nights were filled with visions of her opponents’ deaths replaying in her mind, once she was in the arena, bloodshed and violence called to her.
And as long as she remained the strongest, she was invincible.
“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” Nik’s voice was ominous and quiet, like the shadows that filled his cell. “You don’t know what that man is capable of.”
His words hung in the air as Sinope finished tying her braid in silence.
It was unusual for Nik to sound so serious when he spent most of his time teasing her. She’d seen him fight in the arena on three separate occasions and secretly marvelled at his Gift.
He was blessed with incredible speed. When he ran, his body disappeared, a blurred figure whipping around every opponent, attacking and evading with ease. Only Sinope’s Gifted eyes could follow his movements.
In the Pit, Nik spent most of his time taunting the Samnites and putting on a show for the crowds that laughed and cheered for him. Unlike other Achaean warriors, he didn’t use a shield since it slowed him down. But his sword skills were superior to any other, and he always returned victorious, a large grin splitting his face.
Now shrouded by darkness in his cell, he seemed a different man altogether—one burdened with secrets and a tumultuous past.
Chains scraping the stone floor, he shuffled across his cell and snorted. “Speak of the donkey.”
Footsteps echoed on the stone floor and stopped before their cell.
“Katell, the Outsider, come forward,” a guard barked, unlocking the heavy door.
Rolling her eyes at the ridiculous name, Katell did as she was told and came face to face with Aurelius.
The arena master was a short, plump man with a blinding smile that hid a cruel heart. He wore a deep green tunic with a white rounded mantle—the Rasennans called it a tebenna—pinned over his left shoulder. The mantle, stitched with a flamboyant pattern, was all the fashion among Rasennan noblemen, with stripes of colour signalling the man’s status in society. As usual, red-clothed Samnite guards accompanied him, as well as a trail of Non-Human slaves ready to meet his every need.
His beady eyes squinted at her. From the doorway, flanked by his tall, burly guards, he looked like a swaddled babe. “That’s a neat trick you have there. You’re the first Gifted I’ve ever encountered who could heal so fast. Many people are given the Gift of healing to help others, but yours… Now, that’s unique! I thank Laran every day that he brought you to me.” He rested his hands on his pot belly, wearing a satisfied expression. “Imagine the relief Governor Fabius must feel every time you get stabbed. He was truly ecstatic once he found out how fruitful his investment turned out to be.”
Katell shot him a dark glare. Aurelius always found a way of getting under her skin by referring to her as property rather than a person.
“You’ll be happy to know your patron has already agreed to your next fight,” he continued, clapping his hands together. “Well, I should say performance, really. You won’t be fighting, but others will. I designed a spectacular show that will entertain the people for days to come.”
Katell exchanged a look with Sinope. Performances were battle re-enactments performed by trained slaves. Gifted warriors never took part in them.
“And that is what we must all strive for, is it not? The people’s happiness.” Wicked amusement shone in the arena master’s eyes. “Without them, where would we all be? You three would have been sent to the salt mines. Well, perhaps not the women. They do have a taste for Gifted women in Kisra from what I’ve heard. The Emperor, especially.”
Red-hot anger bubbled up inside Katell, making her blood boil.
Aurelius’ attention shifted to Sinope. “You can’t imagine the number of men who have begged me for the chance to lay with an Amazon, my dear. The money they offered was unimaginable, but your patron simply won’t allow it. He’s a jealous man that Saturius.”
Sinope’s face turned ashen, and she pulled her arms around herself, gripping her elbows. Katell’s vision clouded. Consequences be damned, she was going to choke the disgusting, red-faced pig with his own necklace.
Nik emerged from the shadows, his face half-cloaked in darkness. Chains rattling, he pressed his forearms against the metal bars separating their cells and stared Aurelius right in the eye.
Katell couldn’t take her eyes off him. He’d never defied the arena master or any of the guards like this before.
“Decimus Saturius won’t like it once he finds out you’ve been upsetting his slave,” Nik said, scratching the scruff on his jaw. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message to my patroness when she comes by later. You, more than anyone else, know how much she likes to gossip.”
Despite the bored cadence of his voice, a threat lingered beneath it.
“No need to involve her.” Aurelius pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat gathering at his brow. “I was merely passing on a message.
Nik’s gaze was stone cold. “Message received.” His tone left no room for discussion.
Aurelius backed away, barking orders to the guards, and the cell door shut behind him.
Once their footsteps faded away, Katell loosened a breath.
Sinope turned to Nik. “Thank you.”
He reached through the bars and gripped her shoulder in comfort. His gaze shifted to Katell. “Don’t let him get under your skin like that. Keep your strength for the arena.”
She nodded, mulling over Aurelius’ words.
You won’t be fighting, but others will. I designed a spectacular show that will entertain the people for days to come.
She didn’t like the sound of it. Her fights so far had consisted in pitching her against the strongest opponents the arena had to offer. Gifted Samnites for the most part, and when one fighter wasn’t enough, Aurelius had sent in two or more. However, their fighting skills and strength hadn’t made any difference to her. She had always come out on top.
If Aurelius wasn’t sending her into the Pit to fight, then what was her purpose?
“One day, that monster will get the fate he deserves.” Sinope’s voice trembled, betraying the anger simmering beneath. She peered up at the slit in the wall, her golden skin glowing in the dwindling daylight. “Someone will tear down this infernal place and send him to Tartaros, where he belongs. The Huntress will make sure of it.”
For once, Nik kept his thoughts about the gods to himself.