Page 37 of House of Serpents and Slaves

I cut him off with a sharp look. "Save it. One battle doesn't change anything."

His expression hardened. "You saved my life. That changes everything."

I snorted, turning away. "Does it? Tomorrow, I'll still be the monster you fear."

I turned away, my gaze sweeping across the blood-soaked sand. My chest heaved as I surveyed the carnage around us. Bodies of fallen gladiators and the massive corpses of the skorpi littered the arena. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of fear and sweat.

As the dust settled and the roar of the crowd reached a fever pitch, Drusus strode into the arena. His gilded armour gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to our blood-soaked, battered forms. He raised his arms, his voice booming across the amphitheatre.

"Citizens of the Empire!" he called out, his face split in a triumphant grin. "Behold the might of my ludus!"

The crowd's cheers intensified. Drusus basked in their adoration, turning slowly to address all sides of the arena.

"You've witnessed a spectacle today, but I promise you, this is merely the beginning!" He gestured towards us, his prized fighters. "My gladiators have proven their worth, defeating both man and beast!"

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I could almost see the calculations running through his mind. I was no longer just a curiosity to him, but a valuable asset.

The crowd's cheers intensified as Drusus gestured grandly towards us. "And now, as promised, the prize!"

At his signal, the massive crate was wheeled to the centre of the arena. The wood creaked and groaned, shuddering with the force of whatever was contained within. The crowd fell silent, anticipation thick in the air.

"In the coming weeks, you will witness wonders beyond your wildest dreams!" Drusus proclaimed. "Man against beast, gladiator against nature itself! For we now possess the most fearsome creature ever to grace our arena!"

The crate shuddered, a low, rumbling growl emanating from within. The crowd gasped, then erupted into frenzied cheering.

"Behold," Drusus cried. "The spoils of victory - a dragon for my ludus!"

The sides of the crate fell away, revealing a sight that stole the breath from my lungs. Chained and muzzled, but still magnificent, stood a dragon. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, reflecting the harsh sunlight in mesmerising patterns. The dragon's eyes, a deep, molten gold, swept across the arena with an intelligence that sent chills down my spine. The creature's wings were bound tightly to its body, but even restrained, its power was palpable. And its fury.

The crowd's roar reached a deafening crescendo. I could feel the vibrations in my chest, see the hunger in their eyes. They wanted blood, spectacle, death - and this magnificent creature would provide it all.

I could feel the bloodlust rolling off the spectators in waves, their appetite for violence only whetted by today's battles.

As the dragon's molten gaze swept across the arena, it locked eyes with me for a brief moment. In that instant, I felt a jolt of recognition - not of familiarity, but of kinship. We were both outsiders, creatures feared and hated, forced to fight for the entertainment of others.

The dragon let out a low, mournful keen that cut through the crowd's cheers. The sound resonated deep within me, stirringsomething primal and long-buried. I felt my hands clench involuntarily, my nails digging into my palms.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Marcus's voice startled me out of my reverie. He had moved to stand beside me, his eyes fixed on the dragon.

I grunted in response, not trusting myself to speak. The urge to rush forward, to somehow free the dragon from its chains, was almost overwhelming. But I knew it would be suicide. Even if I could reach the creature, the guards would cut me down before I could loosen a single shackle.

"This isn't right," Marcus muttered, barely audible over the chaos. "That creature doesn't belong here."

I grunted in agreement, my eyes still fixed on the dragon. Its scales rippled as muscles tensed beneath, power barely contained.

"Neither do we," I growled.

11

Istepped into the training ring, the cool morning air prickling my skin. My stomach churned with a mix of determination and apprehension. The memory of my last defeat burned hot in my mind - Cato's smug grin as he pinned me to the ground, the laughter of the other gladiators ringing in my ears. The humiliation still stung, fueling my resolve to prove myself today.

As I made my way across the sand, I spotted Septimus near the weapon racks. Our eyes met briefly, but I quickly looked away, my jaw clenching. I strode past him without a word, still seething from our last encounter. I hadn’t shown up to spar withhim that night. I found I just couldn’t face him. Not yet anyway. Part of me missed our training sessions, and I knew I was struggling to train properly without a sparring partner, but there was no way he would help me now, and I wasn’t going to ask him for anything. Not after the way he’d spoken to me.

Anger stirred inside me as I remembered his harsh words, his contempt for me. I should never have given in to him, to that…. insanity… that had come over me. I couldn’t think of another word for it. I hated Septimus. I always had, even when we were kids. Training with him had been a means to an end. So why had his touch set my body alight? Why had his kiss sent me spiralling into such consuming desire that I’d have allowed him to take me right then and there if he’d chosen? And why did the thought of him doing just that haunt my dreams every night?

I shook my head, trying to clear the unwelcome thoughts. I couldn't afford to be distracted, not today. My eyes scanned the ring, searching for Marcus. Instead, they locked onto the new gladiator, Tarshi.

He stood alone, as usual, the other fighters giving him a wide berth. I couldn't blame them. He was a Talfen, and after witnessing his performance in the arena two days ago, I understood their fear.

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