37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The next morning, Leukos was nowhere to be found.
“He went to the temple,” Agapios said when she joined him in the open living space. He was lying on his side again on a long chair beside the fountain, eating flatbread with honey and fruit. “Please, join me for a light meal.”
Alena sat down on the nearest chair. She nibbled on the bread with her good hand, then tasted the exotic fruit Agapios piled on a plate for her. Although her wounded hand was still bandaged, the pain had vanished thanks to Agapios’ healer and his magical ointment—a shimmering salve scented with calendula. He’d also cared for the cut on her cheek, inflicted by the Blood Wolf, and come morning, only a faint trace of the injury remained.
“Have you ever eaten dates, my dear?” He took delight in introducing her to the sweet, sticky fruit, and she conceded it was very good.
As they ate, servants came and went, waiting on them.
“Do you own many slaves?” Her question carried an unintended bite, disrupting the friendly ambience.
Agapios gave a hearty chuckle. “Criticising the host, I see, and before the sun has even reached its highest point.”
A pang of regret washed over her, and she swallowed hard, chastising herself. The older man had fed, bathed, and clothed them all. Her father would be ashamed. “My deepest apologies, I didn’t mean to—”
He waved her words away. “Oh no, never you mind. Leukos was very much the same the first time he came to my home.”
He reached for more wine, but Alena grasped the jug and poured him another cup instead. Freefolk customs dictated that the host should never serve himself in the company of guests.
“The Megarian in me cries at the thought of owning people, but over the years I have spent in Bruna, I have had to adapt. I cannot change the Rasennan ways but I can fight them through my own means.”
The cryptic expression on his lined face piqued her interest.
“I regularly free my slaves and give them enough coin to either set up shop in the city or return to their homeland. Felix is the only freed slave who has stayed with me over the years. He has nowhere to go since the Rasennan army killed his family. The Twelve bless him, he decided to remain by my side and help me in my endeavour.”
Alena’s face flushed. She’d been quick to judge him, but he was risking his life to free slaves right under the Rasennans’ noses. His words gave her renewed hope for Katell.
“I’m afraid I must ask for your help once more.” She followed his lead, washing her sticky fingers in the bowl of water on the table. “I need to find my sister, and if she’s a slave at the arena, then I must go there.”
Agapios furrowed his brow. “The arena is heavily guarded night and day. You wouldn’t be the first who wishes to free a loved one, and the warriors themselves have tried more than once to escape. Bruna’s arena is quite the fortress.”
“Please, there must be some way.”
She gripped the soft tunic covering her knees. A servant girl had attended to her needs that morning, bathing her, massaging her hair with oils, and dressing her in fine linen, all while Alena grappled with overwhelming guilt. The whole routine had been a constant reminder that she was safe while her sister was rotting in a cell inside the arena.
“My sister… she sacrificed herself to save both Leukos and me from slavers, and now, I must save her from a terrible fate.”
“Your sister sounds like a brave young woman, indeed.” The old man tugged on the back of the cushioned chair, sitting himself up. “Fear not, my dear. Lucius Aurelius, the arena master, has been courting my favour since I set foot in this dreadful city.”
“He has?”
Agapios nodded. “Oh, yes. He needs patrons for his warriors; rich citizens who will pay for their care and needs. But I have always refused to take part. Those warriors do not deserve such a fate.”
He paused, staring at the marble fountain, wrapped in his thoughts. Alena, in turn, let her eyes wander over the artwork. A sculpted woman dressed in heavy folds tipped glistening water from a long-necked jar into a shell basin at her feet. The woman’s head was turned upwards, her eyebrows drawn as if deciding her next course of action.
“I can get you inside the arena.” Agapios’ low voice cut through the soothing bubbling of the water. “I will feign interest in his new Gifted warriors and bring you along as my niece.” He paused, watching her. “It could be dangerous, Alena. Leukos would be opposed to this plan.”
Leukos had no problem leaving without sharing any indications of his plans. Did he think she would lounge all day on a cushioned chair waiting for him?
The thought made her frown. “Leukos isn’t my father, nor my kin. If I decide to go to the arena, he can’t stop me.”
Agapios burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “That’s the spirit, my dear. That poor Megarian boy doesn’t know what’s coming to him. He may be elite, but he needs someone like you to remind him that he bleeds like the rest of us.”
“Elite?” The word gave her pause. What kind of life had Leukos previously led? “Is he revered back in Megara as the son of Antigenes?”
Agapios’ laughter died. He blinked at her, the gesture giving him an owlish appearance. “Yes, something like that. Or at least, he was. Megara has changed a great deal since the Empire took over. Anyone associated with the royal family or the Silver Shields is considered a traitor and sent to the mines—or worse.”
The Megarian royal family. Killed in the dead of night by soldiers. All except for one.
Curiosity got the better of her. “Will you tell me what happened? About the night of the massacre?”
Agapios took a long sip from his cup, staring at her across the low table. “It’s not a pretty story, and I do not like to speak of the dead, but I suppose everyone should understand the depths of Emperor Caius Tarquinius’ cruelty. The Rasennans call it ‘the Conquest of Megara’, but no pretty name can erase the horrors of that night.”
A gulp caught in Alena’s throat, and she questioned her choice to bring up such a sombre topic during their meal. One day, her thirst for knowledge would be her downfall.
“Do you know of the Achaean conquest?” Agapios asked.
She shook her head. Her father’s parchments only spoke of events that had occurred prior to his arrival in the Freefolk Lands. She hadn’t even known about the Rebel Queen’s fate until Leukos had told her.
“Fifteen years ago now, on the heels of the Battle of Kendrisia, the Rasennan army penetrated Achaea. The Achaean League, under King Pandion’s command, led a brave fight and won many decisive battles, but not enough to make the Emperor give up. Since Megara had been allied to the Rebel Queen, the Emperor was determined to be done with them once and for all. They say Laran himself fought beside his army and brought with him his seven demons, the Makhai.”
Despite the summer warmth, a shiver trickled down Alena’s spine.
“The Achaean League was no match against the Empire’s power, and the alliance fractured. Some rulers wanted to negotiate with the Emperor, but King Pandion was adamant about continuing the fight. After another terrible defeat, Pandion and his allies retreated to Megara, and the Rasennan Legions surrounded the city. They could not enter it. The Sea God himself protected the high city walls, so the Rasennans laid siege instead. It went on for two years, and despite negotiation attempts, neither side surrendered.”
A servant interrupted to clear away dishes and refill their cups. Agapios took another long sip of wine, a distant glimmer in his gaze.
“And then, one day, ten years ago, a small group of Rasennan assassins slipped inside the city at night. They took the palace by surprise and slaughtered everyone inside. King Pandion, his queen, their firstborn son, Aegeus, the Silver Shields, and their families. Everyone. Even the children didn’t escape the massacre. Over one hundred people in the dead of night, except for the king’s second son, Prince Galen. The Emperor took him and imprisoned him in Kisra as a warning to the Megarian people. Should they ever rebel again, he would slaughter the heir of their royal family.” His shoulders stooped under the weight of his homeland’s dark history, like a sombre shadow hanging over him.
A long silence followed.
Dozens of questions swarmed Alena’s mind. “How did they do it? How did the Rasennans get inside the city?”
After a moment, Agapios replied, “They say King Pandion was betrayed.”
“Betrayed?”
He ran his fingers through his thick beard and released a deep sigh. “By one of his Silver Shields. He showed the Rasennans the secret passages through the sewers.”
Alena’s heart stilled. One of the honourable Silver Shields had betrayed their king and brought the fall of Megara?
The entire story was like a chilling ghost story—one that sent shudders through her. She couldn’t fathom the horror of that dreadful night. Over one hundred people under the cover of darkness... A massacre, indeed.
Let me see them! Let me see! … Please… Save them.
The significance of Leukos’ feverish shouts back in the cave suddenly dawned on her.
“Leukos was there,” she blurted. Her mind spun with the weight of the revelation. The nightmares, the screams, even his stoic fa?ade serving as a barrier to shield himself from the world—it all made sense. “He saw what happened, didn’t he?”
“He was just a young lad, barely ten years old. The day before, he’d left the palace with his friends to go hunting.” Agapios’ lined face took on a grim expression. “When they returned the next morning, I heard Leukos was the first one to discover the bodies.”
Alena drew in a sharp breath. The first one? The thought of a young Leukos coming home and stumbling upon such a gruesome sight broke her heart. The haunting trauma of that day had scarred his soul with lasting pain, shaping his existence ever since.
“No use getting upset about the past, my dear. Those poor souls can no longer be saved.” Agapios heaved himself up to unsteady feet before offering her a hand. “What matters now is that we convince Lucius Aurelius to let us inside the arena to rescue your sister.”
His gaze fell upon her tunic, and he frowned. “Though, if we’re going to have you play my niece, you must first dress the part.”
Alena stared at the looming amphitheatre and smoothed down her dress.
Felix had brought clothes fitting the latest Rasennan fashion to her room, and San had helped her dress into the inner and outer tunics. While the inner tunic was a simple knee-length off-white linen piece with short sleeves, the soft blue outer tunic was much longer and needed to be belted underneath her breasts by a sash, accentuating her curves. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, held by silver hairpins and an elegant painted comb Agapios had insisted she wear.
Before they’d left, San had helped pin a long, embroidered veil to her hair. It fell down Alena’s back, covering her bare arms. Agapios had then given her a leather pouch with enough coin to buy a dozen slaves.
“Leukos left it behind this morning for you,” Agapios had explained. “I believe he intended to take you to the arena himself later today, but here we are. Felix will tell him of our plan once he returns.”
She hadn’t questioned how Leukos had got hold of so much coin. Her Megarian companion had promised to help her free her sister, and if this was his way of keeping his word, then she was glad for it.
“You look marvellous, my dear.” Agapios stood at her side in the courtyard, waiting for the arena master to greet them. “Just follow my lead.”
She nodded, grateful for the protection the shawl provided from the sun. The air was stifling, even in the shade, and smelled foul.
As they waited, she studied the marble statues bordering the entrance. Laran was depicted as a naked young man, brandishing a spear with a bronze tip. His face was hidden behind a helmet with two narrow slits through which his eyes, fitted with gleaming stones, glared down at her. The Rasennan god was terrifying, his whole demeanour emitting an aura of ruthless power.
From the corridor, a paunchy man arrived, draped in a stupendous orange tebenna stitched with a black and white pattern, and covered in jewellery. A train of red-clothed guards and slaves dressed in simpler garbs followed him.
“Praise Laran, what an agreeable surprise!” The arena master greeted them in Koine, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. “When your slave arrived with your message, Acilius, I thought surely someone was playing a trick on me. Tell me, friend, what can I do for you?”
His smarmy welcome made Alena’s skin crawl.
“Lucius Aurelius, always a pleasure.” Although Agapios smiled, his posture was stiff. “This is my niece, Alena. She is visiting from Achaea.”
Alena bowed her head, hoping not to draw too much attention to herself.
“Turan have mercy!” Aurelius stepped close enough that the flowery oils on his clothes and hair did nothing to cover his pungent sweat. “A red-headed beauty in Bruna. What a rare sight indeed.”
“Unfortunately, my niece does not share my distaste for arena fights and has insisted on visiting during her stay.” Agapios used his skill with words to weave a credible lie. “I thought it best to accompany her and take a gander at the cages. Word has it that you’ve recently acquired some remarkable warriors.”
Aurelius beamed at his request. “Of course, you are most welcome!” He clapped his hands. At once, his train of slaves dispersed, all except for the guards.
“I heard you lost Decimus Saturius’ patronage following the Amazon’s death.” Agapios stroked his beard, following Aurelius towards a wooden side door. “It was such a shame to learn about her passing. Her presence at the arena brought many visitors to Bruna and was good for business.”
The two men continued to discuss Aurelius’ recent misfortunes while Alena followed, heart in her throat. She trailed behind them inside the arena through vaulted corridors and then down a narrow stone staircase. More than once, her feet got entangled in the heavy folds of her dress until Agapios caught her by the elbow.
“Watch your feet, my niece,” he warned. “These steps ahead are quite treacherous for a young lady.”
He gave her a pointed stare, and she nodded in understanding. They were descending into the belly of the arena and would be at Aurelius’ mercy if he discovered the true purpose of their visit.
Below ground, the musty air festered with the familiar smells of blood, rot and sweat. Row upon row of cages lined the walls of the high-vaulted corridor, where sunlight struggled to break through the small slits in the stone walls.
“Most of the Samnites are currently training in the arena for today’s show.” Aurelius held a handkerchief over his nose and led them further down the corridor, ignoring the gaunt faces of the caged men and women. “The Gifted have their own guarded corridor further down. I believe you will be surprised by the fresh batch I received last month. Very promising warriors from all over the Empire.”
Agapios played along while a creeping unease took hold of Alena. Each cage held nothing else than a single wooden bench with some straw and a bucket in the corner. Some slaves stood against the iron bars of their cages, watching Aurelius and his guests with mild curiosity. Others lay on the bench or straw, covered in bloodied bandages and moaning in pain.
“Are they not treated by healers?” she asked.
Agapios’ hand tightened around her elbow.
Aurelius glanced over his shoulder and blinked. Her presence seemed to have slipped his mind. “The healers don’t have time to waste on them.” His voice was slow and sweet as though speaking to a child. “These slaves have no Gifts or fighting skills. They are merely fodder for the shows or the felines.”
Digging her nails into her palms, she forced a smile to her lips. “I see.”
The air became increasingly foul the closer they got to the cages filled with dozens of slaves. Alena slowed down, her heart clenching as she witnessed groups of children huddled behind the iron bars, who cowered at the sight of the red guards.
“Unskilled slaves cost a small fortune to keep alive until they have served their purpose,” Aurelius prattled on, oblivious to his guests’ discomfort, “but Emperor Tarquinius himself has declared the feline shows to be his favourite, so they have become quite popular in the capital and the provinces.”
“We must all take delight in seeing the Empire’s enemies fall in the arena,” Agapios said, giving Alena a reassuring squeeze.
The tour continued through the labyrinth of high-vaulted corridors housing armouries, caged animals, healing rooms, and even baths. Alena searched every cell and room, heart thundering in her ears, but caught no sign of Katell.
The final corridor revealed larger cages filled with cots, benches, and personal items. They appeared cleaner compared to the rest, and those imprisoned inside stood tall, their presence imposing and their physiques sculpted with muscle. These slaves leaned against the iron bars, watching Aurelius and his guests with calculating eyes. The unmistakable loathing etched on their faces spoke volumes about their hatred for the arena master.
Agapios’ plastered smile faltered. “Are these the famed Gifted quarters, then?”
“Indeed, they are.” Aurelius’ grin exuded sheer pride. “The Gifted slaves are kept here, and their patrons are free to visit whenever they wish. We have warriors from all over the Empire: Illyria, Eluvia, Achaea, and even the Western Lands.”
Alena feigned interest while her gaze flitted from cage to cage, seeking a glimpse of Katell.
Aurelius stopped before the cell of an Eluvite slave. The guards called him forward, and the arena master spoke of the toned Gifted warrior with curly dark hair in a similar fashion to the Freefolk showing off their livestock.
“Show us the Mark.” Although the warrior threw Aurelius a glare, he complied and lifted his tunic, revealing a dark green pattern in the shape of a mountain range covering his upper thigh.
“Fascinating.” Agapios peered closer, then asked a question, keeping Aurelius’ focus on him.
Alena took advantage of the arena master’s inattention to examine the nearby cages, then ventured further down. Her chest throbbed with each pounding heartbeat. She continued her inspection of every cage, all the while forcing herself to keep a nonchalant appearance.
Through the flickering sconce light, Gifted warriors stared back at her in silence. Their severe and unwelcoming demeanours made her hesitate. Still, if she didn’t try to speak with them now, she’d never get another opportunity inside the arena again.
Spotting a young woman close to her age, with a mass of black curls and a crooked nose, broken one too many times, Alena approached her cell.
“I’m looking for someone,” she whispered in Koine.
The girl scowled and hissed back in a foreign tongue.
“Sorry.” Alena stepped away and glanced around for another suitable warrior. Next, she found a young boy trying to peek through the bars. “I’m searching for someone.”
The boy blinked twice before his face broke into a grin, exposing green gums and teeth. She stumbled back at the manic glint in his eyes, almost tripping on the hem of her skirts, and a chuckle rumbled behind her.
Whipping around, she found with a cell cast in darkness. Inside, a muscled figure sat hunched on a bench.
“I’m searching for someone,” she repeated, taking a step closer.
“So you keep saying.” The warrior spoke Koine. He leaned forward, chains rattling around his arms and feet as he revealed himself—dirty-blond hair pulled back into a short braid and clear blue eyes. His face was chiselled and alluring, despite the bruises and cuts peppering his skin. “You have some nerve coming here to observe us like animals and then asking us for help.”
“I didn’t come to observe you.” She glanced back to Aurelius and the guards. She had little time left before they spotted her. “I came here under the pretext of seeing the Gifted warriors, it’s true, but I’m searching for my sister.”
Light eyes snapped to her.
“She was taken by slavers and possibly brought here.” Alena kept her eye on Aurelius and the guards, then jumped at Agapios’ erupting laughter. “She’s tall with bronze skin, dark, braided hair, and green eyes. Gifted with strength, and her name is—”
“—Katell.”
Alena’s breath stalled in her throat. “You know her?” A spark of hope shot through her, and she lurched closer. “Is she alive?”
In one swift movement, the warrior snatched her arm, pulling her against the icy iron bars, and she stifled a scream.
“Get me out of here,” he hissed through his teeth, “and I’ll tell you everything I know.”