Page 85 of House of Serpents and Slaves

The words were there, burning in my chest. I love you. I've loved you for so long I don't remember how to stop. Every moment with you was real. Every smile, every laugh, every touch was precious. But the words wouldn't come. How could I speak of love now, after I'd betrayed her trust so completely? What right did I have to burden her with feelings she couldn't - shouldn't - return?

My silence damned me. I watched the hope die in her eyes, replaced by a coldness that cut deeper than any blade.

"I release you," she said, her voice gone cold. "Whatever vow you made to my brother, consider it fulfilled. I release you from it."

"You can't," I managed. "Only Tarsus-"

"Tarsus is dead!" The words echoed in the arena's sudden quiet. "He's dead, and I was a fool to think-" She broke off, turning away. "I don't need your protection. I don't need anything from you."

But just before she turned, I heard her whisper, "I thought you actually cared. What a fool I was."

The words shattered something in my chest. "Livia, wait-" I reached for her, but the horn blared, signaling the break's end. She was already walking away, back straight, head high, leaving me standing alone with the wreckage of everything I'd never had the courage to say.

Across the arena, the giant with the trident was readying his weapon. The next round would begin soon. But for the first time since the battle started, I didn't want to die. Death was too easy, too clean. I didn't deserve that peace.

I deserved to live with what I'd done, with what I'd lost. I deserved to spend every day watching her walk away, knowing it was my own cowardice that had driven her from me.

I tightened my grip on my sword. This time, I wouldn't seek death. Death was a coward's escape, and I'd been enough of a coward already. I would fight - not for myself, but for her. Not because of any vow, but because loving her was as natural as breathing, even if she never knew.

I raised my sword. The battle would resume. And this time, I would be worthy of the trust I'd lost.

27

Ipulled my tunic over my head and stretched out over the straw, grimacing as I felt the tight skin on my back pull and twinge. That flogging had laid me out for weeks, and I admitted it had been an effective punishment. I would definitely think twice before acting the same way again. It wasn't just the pain or the humiliation, it was knowing every time I went into the arena since, I had been compromised, weakened. It was still healing, but I wasn't back to full movement, and if I was completely honest with myself, I was surprised I'd survived the first tworounds of the games. A weight settled on my heart as I thought about what was coming tomorrow evening.

The final games. Drusus's grande finale. I'd seen the schedule posted in the training yard - four rounds, each worse than the last, culminating in the horror of the beast that awaited the victors - the dragon. Even now, I could hear the beast huffing and shifting in its pen down the corridor, the sound sending ice through my veins despite the warm night air. I'd heard what those creatures could do. We all had heard the stories about the dragon elites, the mighty warriors that tamed the beasts and rode them into battle, slaughtering and burning as they went. I had thought the tales exaggerated, but I'd seen that creature up close and witnessed for myself the way it moved, the intelligence in those eyes - this wasn't some dumb beast to be tricked or outmaneuvered. It was a killer, bred and trained for the arena, and tomorrow it would be unleashed on us.

If we survived that long.

The celebrations drifting down from above seemed almost obscene. Yes, we'd made it to the finals, but how many had died today? How many more would fall tomorrow? I closed my eyes, trying to find some peace in the darkness, but all I could see were the faces of the dead, the ones who'd fought beside us and wouldn't see another sunrise.

A different sound caught my attention - lighter footsteps, familiar ones that made my heart skip despite my dark thoughts. I didn't open my eyes right away, savoring the moment of anticipation as Livia slipped into my cell like a shadow.

"You should be celebrating with the others," I said, unable to keep the smile from my voice as I finally looked at her. She was carrying something - a small bottle that caught the torchlight, and her presence alone seemed to push back the shadows of my fears.

"Turn around," she commanded, that imperious tone that always amused me. "I brought almond oil for your back."

The first touch of her hands, slick with oil, made me shiver. She worked in silence for a while, her strong fingers finding each knot of tension, each badly-healed scar. In these moments, she reminded me of my mother, who had been a healer before the wars came. But thinking of Livia as anything maternal felt wrong in ways I couldn't explain.

"Marcus is getting his freedom," she said finally, working a particularly stubborn knot in my shoulder. "If we win tomorrow. Drusus promised."

"Good." I meant it. "He's earned it. Man knows his worth."

"He wants to buy land," she continued, her hands never stopping their gentle work. "Start a farm, find a wife. He'll still help with training the new fighters, but he wants... a normal life, I suppose."

I hummed in agreement. "It's a good dream for a free man." Simple words, but they carried weight. A free man. Something I would never truly be, no matter what papers declared.

Her hands stilled. "Is that what you want? A farm, a family?"

The question caught me off guard. I stayed silent, considering. Behind me, I felt her waiting, patient but curious.

"Maybe once," I finally admitted. "But I've seen too much of how this empire treats those who try to live quietly. Especially those like me." I didn't need to explain further. We both knew what I meant - half-breeds, mongrels, those who didn't fit neatly into Rome's ordered world. "I think I'll always be a fighter. It's what I know. What I'm good at."

"You're good at many things," she protested, her hands resuming their work. "And you're a good man, whatever they say."

I couldn't help but laugh, though there was no real humour in it. "Not good enough to be accepted. Not good enough to beallowed a wife or family." Sexual relations with a human was already forbidden. My mother had kept me hidden for a good while, and living on the very edge of the empire had helped, but closer to the cities I knew mixed children were often simply killed at birth. It was a horrific practice, but I had been lucky. My mother had loved me. What would the alternative have been for other half breed children? It made me sick that was even a consideration, and my old hatred for the empire rose up in my chest. I shoved the feeling down, concentrating instead on the feel of Livia's touch on my skin.

"That's not true. You could find somewhere far away, somewhere quiet..." she murmured, though there was no conviction in her voice. I turned to face her.

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