Page 55 of House of Serpents and Slaves

"Stay light on your feet," Rena instructed, her voice firm yet patient. "Anticipate my moves and react quickly."

"I'm trying!" I snapped, frustration bubbling in my chest as she easily parried yet another one of my strikes.

"Focus," she urged, her tone softening. "You've got this, Livia."

"Fine," I muttered, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to breathe. Calming my mind, I honed in on Rena's movements, watching for the subtle shifts in her weight that signaled her next attack. As my focus sharpened, I found it easier to react and counter her strikes.

"Better," Rena acknowledged, a hint of approval in her voice. "Now, try using your dexterity to create openings. Think about where I'm vulnerable and exploit it."

"Like this?" I asked, feinting an attack towards her left shoulder before quickly changing direction and sending a quick jab towards her exposed side.

"Exactly," Rena confirmed, narrowly parrying my strike. "Keep it up."

The sparring continued, each moment a whirlwind of clashing swords and grunts of exertion. Rena's guidance was relentless yet invaluable, her words driving me to push beyond my limits. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the training grounds, I sensed a shift within myself - a newfound confidence born from the knowledge that I could hold my own against someone as skilled as Rena.

"Alright," Rena said finally, stepping back and lowering her weapon. "That's enough for today. You've made progress, Livia."

"Thanks," I replied, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The words felt foreign on my tongue, but I meant them. For once, I wasn't drowning in self-doubt and frustration.

"Same time tomorrow?" Rena asked, her eyes twinkling with a strange mix of warmth and challenge.

"Absolutely," I agreed.

16

Five thousand voices screamed for blood. They always did. The arena had been like this since I'd first fought here five storms ago, but today the noise clawed at my nerves like never before. Because today, she was here.

I'd seen her hands trembling at dawnmeal, though she'd tried to hide it. Now, as we walked the circuit of the arena, I could see that same tremor in how she gripped her sword. But she held her head high, jaw set in that stubborn way that was so painfully familiar. So like Livia when she'd made up her mindabout something. As frustrating as it could be, it was a quality I respected in her.

The skorpi's cage came into view, and Livia faltered for just a moment. I saw her face go pale, saw her throat work as she swallowed hard. But she planted her feet firmly in the sand, adjusting her grip on her shield. That was my girl - terrified but refusing to show it. My heart swelled with pride even as guilt twisted in my gut.

Eleven storms I'd carried that secret about her parents, about why our village was destroyed. About who was responsible. At first, it had been anger that made me keep it from her. Sheer, encompassing fury at how her parents had endangered everyone they knew, for some deluded belief that those dark eyed demons wanted anything other than the Empire's destruction. She was only a few years younger than me, but the rage I'd felt inside, I hadn't trusted myself. They were still her parents, however much I blamed them. And then, there had been my promise to Tarus as he'd died. I'd sworn to protect Livia, and I had thought the knowledge of her parent's treachery and betrayal would have destroyed her. It seemed, I needn't have worried. Instead of horror, she'd reacted with understanding, and her desire for vengeance hadn't faded, but increased. I couldn't understand her at all.

I'd barely been able to look at her this last week, avoiding training with her as much as I could. I told myself it was disappointment in how she'd taken the news, but I knew a great deal of it was that I couldn't forget the moments where she'd been in my arms, her lips on mine. I wanted more, and that was so very, very wrong.

The crowd's roar swelled as we took our positions. I watched Livia settle into a fighting stance next to Rena. The woman had been helping her train, and I'd noticed the improvement as well as a growing friendship. Then I saw Marcus catch her eye fromacross the arena and give her an encouraging nod. Something dark and ugly twisted in my chest at that small exchange. When had that started? When had I begun to hate seeing other men look at her? She wasn't mine to protect anymore, wasn't the little girl who'd cry out for me after nightmares. But gods help me, I couldn't stop seeing her that way even as I increasingly saw her as... something else. Something that made me hate myself a little more each day.

A horn blasted, cutting through my thoughts. The gates were opening. Show time. My gaze drifted to where the half-breed stood with the other gladiators, and bile rose in my throat. Tarshi. Even his name marked him as impure - neither fully human nor fully Talfen, a mongrel trying to belong in our world. The Empire was right to hunt his kind down. We'd all seen what happened when the barriers between our people broke down. Villages burned, children orphaned, the corrupting influence of their dark magic seeping into our lands like poison.

The raids had grown worse lately. Three outposts burned in the last moon alone, their dragons sweeping down from the mountains like demons. Each time the news arrived, I'd watch the crowd in the arena bay for Talfen blood, demanding more executions, more punishment games. And why shouldn't they? The Talfen were animals, all of them. They'd proven that when they'd turned on the Empire that had offered them peace.

I remembered the teachings from my youth: "The Talfen know only violence. They cannot be reasoned with, cannot be trusted. Their blood carries the taint of the old magics, magics that would destroy everything we've built." I'd seen the proof of those words firsthand, seen what their raids had done to border villages like mine. Like Livia's.

Tarshi moved into position, and I noticed how the other gladiators gave him space, as if his mixed blood might somehow contaminate them. Good. At least some people still rememberedwhat his kind were capable of. But then I saw Livia nod to him - a quick, friendly acknowledgment - and my hands tightened on my weapons. She was too young to remember the worst of the raids, too young to understand why we couldn't trust them. Not even half-breeds. Especially not half-breeds, with their divided loyalties.

The crowd's chanting grew louder, more rhythmic. "Death! Death! Death!" They wanted blood today - Talfen blood preferred, but they'd take what they could get. The Emperor encouraged these displays of hatred. It kept the people focused, kept them remembering why we fought. Every time a Talfen or half-breed died in the arena, it reinforced the message: this is what happens to those who threaten the Empire's peace.

The gates began to creak open. I pushed the political thoughts aside, forced myself to focus on the immediate threat. But I couldn't help noticing how Tarshi positioned himself near Livia's group, as if he thought he had any right to protect her. As if his kind hadn't already done enough damage to her life.

The mirage cats burst from their cages first, their silver-black coats rippling like liquid shadows in the harsh sunlight. There was three of them, each bigger than a war horse, with teeth as long as daggers. They moved with an unnatural grace, circling our group as they assessed their prey. The crowd's roar reached a fever pitch as the skorpi emerged last, its armored tail raised high, the barbed stinger dripping venom into the sand.

"Ready, old friend?" Antonius's deep voice rumbled beside me. I felt steadier with him at my shoulder - the big man had saved my life more times than I could count. His presence was like a wall at my back, solid and dependable as the mountains themselves.

I shifted my weight, muscles coiled tight. The nearest cat fixed its eyes on us - strange, metallic eyes that seemed to glow from within. These weren't natural beasts. The Empire's mageshad bred them for the arena, mixing regular panthers with something darker. Something that made them faster, deadlier, and far more intelligent than they should be.

A flash of movement caught my eye - Livia falling back with Rena and the half-breed as Marcus led the charge against the skorpi. Smart girl. Let the veterans handle the bigger threat. But I couldn't focus fully on my own fight, couldn't stop my attention from splitting between the cat stalking us and Livia's position.

The cat lunged without warning, covering the distance in a single bound. I rolled left as Antonius went right, our practiced maneuver splitting the beast's attention. My blade scored along its flank while Antonius's heavy axe swept toward its head. The hit should have opened it from shoulder to hip, but these creatures' hides were tough as boiled leather. My strike barely drew blood.

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