Page 34 of House of Serpents and Slaves

I led him to an empty cell, gesturing for him to enter.

"You don't trust me," he said. It wasn't a question.

I met his gaze steadily. "No, I don't. You're Talfen. Your kind are murderers and rapists."

"And what are you?" The creature shot back. "A slave who kills for the entertainment of others. How are you any better?"

His words stung more than I cared to admit.

As I locked the door behind him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. This wasn't just a monster from our nightmares - this was a thinking, feeling being. And now he was caged like an animal.

As I turned to leave, the Talfen spoke, his voice a low growl.

"You fear me."

I glanced back at him, surprised. "I'm not afraid of you," I said firmly.

He gave a harsh laugh. "Not you specifically. Your kind. You fear what I am."

I stopped, turning to face him fully. "We don't fear you," I growled. "We despise you. Your people are monsters who raid our lands and slaughter innocents."

The Talfen's lips curled into a sneer. "And what do you think your empire does to my people? You're the true monsters here. You are the one locking me in a cage like a beast. Why are you doing this?"

I paused, considering my answer carefully. "Because it's my job," I finally said. "And because if I don't, someone else will. Someone who might not be as... understanding."

The Talfen snorted, a surprisingly human sound.

"Understanding? You humans understand nothing."

I felt a flare of anger at his words, but forced it down. "Maybe not," I conceded. "But I'm willing to learn. Are you?"

He merely glared at me, and I sighed.

“What’s your name?”

There was a long pause before he answered.

"Tarshi," he said, his voice low and guttural.

“I’m Marcus. Your owner is called Drusus, but you will refer to him with respect as Dominus. He is the one who decides if you live or die, whether in the arena, or in the ludus. Keep that in mind the next time you find your pride ruffled by his words.”

Without waiting for an answer, I walked away.

As I made my way back to my own quarters, my mind turned over the recent changes to the ludus. Training the Talfen would be difficult enough, but I also had Livia to consider. How was I supposed to prepare her for the arena while also dealing with this new, potentially dangerous slave? I'd grown up hearing stories of Talfen atrocities, been trained to view them as nothing more than savage beasts. But the being I'd just locked away... there was intelligence there, and pain, and a complexity I hadn't expected.

I reached my cell and sank down onto my pallet, my head in my hands. And then there was the matter of my own conflicted feelings. I wasn’t sure whether it was just because it had been a long time since I’d taken a woman to my bed, but I couldn’t get Livia out of my mind. Her soft hair, the smooth skin of her body, a contrast to the callouses on her hands. I had been a warrior long enough to know those callouses weren’t from scrubbing pots and floors. They were formed from years of weapons training. It was what had really convinced me to give her a go in the arena, much as I didn’t want her there. Something was driving her, some fire in her belly that had nothing to do with me. It fascinated me. As much as my head told me I should keep my distance, something inside me needed more. Not just her body though. I wanted to know her, to know what had kept her eyes from developing that flat, deadened look I saw all the timein the eyes of other slaves. In my own. Her fire excited me for the first time in a long time, and I wanted to taste it again.

10

Istood in the shadows of the arena's holding pens, my black skin blending into the darkness. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and fear, a scent I'd grown accustomed to since my capture. My white hair, a stark contrast to my dark skin, was tied back tightly, revealing the sharp angles of my face - a face that was neither fully human nor fully Talfen. The other gladiators gave me a wide berth, their eyes darting towards me with a mixture of fear and disgust. I was used to such reactions. Even in my village, where I'd grown up, I'd been an outsider. The product of a love that most believed impossible - a humanmother and a Talfen father. It was easier for my mother’s family to perpetuate the lie - that I’d been the result of a violent rape when the Talfen raiders had come through our village the year before, and although my mother had kept her head down and her voice low, as I grew up, she sat with me every night whispering to me the tale of how she’d met my father, how he’d saved her, and how they’d fallen in love. Her gentle voice chased away the ugly shouts of the children who called me a monster, and the adults, who wouldn’t meet my eyes, and for that short time every night, I was just a boy.

Children were cruel, and I’d often found myself surrounded by a number of the local boys who wanted to make their fathers proud by beating one of the monsters that raided their empire. It had become clear to me from fairly early on; either I took the beatings, or I learned to stand up for myself. By the time I was a man, no one in the surrounding villages would dare challenge me to a fight.

The roar of the crowd outside echoed through the stone walls, drowning out the grunts and clangs of metal as the other gladiators prepared for battle, pulling me from my memories. A commotion near the weapon racks drew my attention. The other gladiators were selecting their arms for the upcoming battle. I made my way over, my eyes scanning the available weapons. My gaze settled on a massive hammer, its weight familiar and comforting. In my village, I'd been a blacksmith, and the feel of a hammer in my hands brought back memories of simpler times. The trainer had given me an odd look when I’d opted for the heavy hammer over the shining swords, but we’d no swords to train with in the outer villages of the empire, so staffs and hammers were our go to weaponry, and if I was going out there to die, I wanted to give myself a fighting chance.

Sand crunched beneath my feet as I took my position alongside the other gladiators. The crowd's cheers turned togasps and screams as the skorpi were released into the arena, their massive pincers snapping hungrily.

"Tarshi."

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