Page 55 of Thawed Gladiator: Quintus
Her laugh is free, unguarded. “Of course. Nothing stays secret here. I believe you gladiators gossip more than a room full of grannies.”
The compound hums with expectancy. Maya reaches us first, hugging Nicole so fiercely she squeaks. “Finally! We were ready to lock you in a room until you admitted your feelings for each other.”
Nicole meets the ribbing with steady laughter, no trace of the shrinking woman she once was. Jessica and Karen crowd close, Thrax thumps my shoulder, Cassius and Lucius offer their grave blessings. Flavius sweeps us into an exuberant hug. “You’re perfect together,” he declares. “Obviously my charm made Quintus look better by comparison.”
Laughter follows, but quiet falls when Sulla approaches. His gaze lingers, then he says simply, “You look stronger than when you arrived.”
Nicole holds his gaze. “I am.”
He nods once. No miracle, but a stone budged.
Varro clasps my shoulder in the Roman way, speaking in Latin.Fortuna smiles on unions that strengthen rather than diminish.
“I feel her blessings each day,” I answer.
Laura hugs Nicole with open warmth. Her glance between us says it plain: she is welcoming Nicole not just back, butin.
The meal becomes a celebration—wine uncorked, toasts lifted in many tongues. I watch Nicole navigate it with poise, no longer uncertain, but a woman who knows she belongs.
When the fire dwindles and voices scatter, we withdraw to my room, which we’ll share. Her books wait in boxes, my tools spread across the desk, our lives already blending.
She leans against me, eyes bright. “I told Thrax I want him to teach me metalwork. I want to make something with my own hands—something lasting. Maybe even a gift for David’s wedding.”
Pride swells in me at the ease with which she claims new ground. “This is bold, Nicole. To take fire and hammer and shape beauty from it. A woman who once feared taking up space now dares to strike steel. Fortuna smiles on such courage.”
Her laughter bubbles, but there is strength in it. “Exactly. I’ve spent my whole life apologizing. No more.”
We speak of simple things—where her books will stand, how the cottages under construction may soon be ours. Planning a future together feels natural, as though it has always waited for us.
Her earlier words return—record the old songs, not only the words but my voice. The thought settles like purpose. “Saving the old songs for history is a wise idea,” I say at last. “I will speak with Skye—the one most skilled with the Sanctuary’s machines—to learn where to begin. If sound can be bound to memory here, we will bind it.”
At last I rise, heart pounding. “Walk with me. There is something I would like to show you.”
The path to our clearing hums with intention. My hand rests at the small of her back, my body urging me to draw her close, but I hold myself still. The song must come first.
At the fallen log, I reveal the lyre I hid earlier, polished wood gleaming under moonlight. My hands tremble—not from combat, but from offering what I’ve never shared.
The strings answer with a melody I have carried within me for weeks. Not laments, not battle hymns. A song of love. Wordswoven for her alone—of chains broken, of ice melted, of chestnut hair and fierce laughter that healed a gladiator’s silence.
The final notes fade into the night.
“You wrote that for me?” Tears shine on her cheeks.
“For you alone.”
Her fingers brush the strings with reverence. “With all you are, with all you give—that’s how I’ll love you back.”
I bring her hands to my lips. “Then let us spend our years making beauty together.”
Her answer is fierce, certain. “Yes.”
Under the Missouri stars we kiss, not rushing toward vows but standing in the promise of a future built on choice and trust. Tonight we hold each other, knowing we are stronger joined than apart.
It is the most beautiful song I have ever been part of.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Epilogue
Six Months Later…
