Love of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 2) (17 page)

“Perhaps you might consider me your personal Demeter. I shall have to find a scorpion, then, to strike you down.”

Lucius’s voice was as pained as the rest of him now. “I don’t think that necessary, Porcia.”

“I don’t
care
what you think necessary,
slave
.” She snapped to her bodyguards. “This slave is outside of his cell before training hours are to begin. Correct him.”

All protests fell on deaf ears, and the guards dragged Lucius back to his cell.

––––––––

“Y
ou’ve become a fine addition to this ludus, Gwenn.”

Porcia had called her into her office early in the day—right at the start of training, in fact. Technically, Gwenn had the day off—and perhaps longer, depending on how quickly the wound on her shoulder felt.

“Thank you, Domina.”

They sat across from one another now, with Porcia behind her desk. Her bodyguards flanked her as ever. Karro seemed to have some affliction was sticking to his lungs, and every few moments he had to excuse himself to cough in the atrium.

There were a great many other things Gwenn would have preferred doing right then. Training, for example. And if not that, then sliding her lips against Lucius's for the rest of her life.

Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she loved him. Certainly, she loved several things
about
him. His easy humor. His openness with her. His drive to help others. Gwenn would have been dead in the arena if not for his belief in her skill—his dedication to making her better.

But Porcia's presence demanded attention on Porcia, and it was better not to drift.

“There are a great many privileges associated with victory that winners such as yourself can come to enjoy.” Porcia poured a glass of wine for Gwenn. “And to expect. Have a drink.”

“No, thank you, Domina.”

Porcia raised an eyebrow. “You dislike my wine? You have not even tasted it.”

Gwenn had to be careful here. Porcia was a very particular woman. It seemed perhaps half of Puteoli knew of her gambling—or at least, that's the way Kav put it, who was always talking close with Iunius. The eunuch, with his many contacts, was their line of information from the outside. From Kav speaking with him, and Kav never quieting regardless of the situation, Gwenn had learned much about the ludus where she lived.

Porcia was vain even in her surroundings. The many bronze and gold plates on the walls, along with metal and marble renditions of their family line posted on small pillars all throughout the domus, were evidence of that. But, that love for spending had not extended to the ludus itself. Living and training conditions for the gladiators were poorer than they needed to be, and they did not receive enough gladiators on a regular basis to bounce back should House Varinius suffer substantial losses at an unlucky series of games.

“There is a horrific allergy in my family line with drinking. Every man or woman that begins to drink breaks out in heavy fighting and horrible dancing.”

Which was only to say the least. But the gentle joke seemed to put the point across, and Porcia shrugged and added the wine to her own glass.

“Very well. I expect you are a very able dancer when drunk. You certainly danced your way through danger yesterday.”

“I wouldn’t know, Domina. I have studiously avoided any opportunities for intoxication.”

Porcia sniffed. “A shame, that. It’s difficult to tell how honest people are being with you if you don’t see them under the influence of a
little
libation.” She smiled. “Take Lucius, for example. Our Orion. Have you seen him drunk?”

“A little. I prefer him sober.”

Something Porcia said just stuck out to her. It was difficult to know which part. Libation? Honesty? What was she getting at? And yet there was something there...

“Honesty is important to me, Gwenn. I will tell it to you straight. I want there to be no secrets between myself and the fighters under my roof. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“And so, is there anything you should like to tell me about yourself?”

“I...” Gwenn struggled. “I am not sure what you are looking for, Domina. But I assure you, I am not keeping any secrets.”

“No?” Porcia’s smile was almost wolf-like now. “And what of your father? Is he not worthy of mention?”

“I...” It dawned on her slowly. “I apologize, Domina.” The submission was new to her. She did her best. But now that she had fought in the arena, she did not want to risk Porcia's wrath and have that glory taken away. “I did not think him worthy of mention unless I did something of note. You found his name on the Wall of Turmedites?”

“Not me personally, no. But after your performance yesterday, I had some feelers put out. Word travels fast.”

“I did not want to bring him up to you and have you think I was interested in shorting my duty somehow. I want to fight. I don’t wish for any coddling.”

Porcia nodded. “I can see that. And does Lucius know who your father was?”

“I told him. Many weeks past.”

“I see. And how long have you been sleeping with him?”

Gwenn felt her skin flush quickly. She turned from Porcia’s gaze. It felt cold and incriminating.

“You needn’t be so shy, dear. It’s no problem. Slaves sleep with one another all the time.”

“I...we...it was just last night. That we did it.”

She almost said “began,” but that had a heavier implication that she wished to throw out in front of Porcia. Word had traveled to her, and she knew the two of them had slept together in the past. It would not be an easy life, having her Domina as an enemy.

“I see.” Porcia nodded sagely. She re-positioned herself so that she sat on a stool directly across from Gwenn. “Yes, that makes sense. You needed some time to recover in the meanwhile, I understand. But your passions were too great to be held back by such ill fortunes.”

“To recover, Domina?”

“From what Lucius told you.” Shock appeared on Porcia’s face—whether feigned for effect or truly there, Gwenn could not say. “He
did
tell you, didn’t he? The great and mighty Orion didn’t tell you the truth straight away?”

Orion. That’s what had bugged her from before. She knew that name. She knew it well. That was...

That was the name of...

“Lucius didn’t tell you he killed your father, and then he slept with you? Oh my.” Porcia tsked. “Oh my, Gwenn. That must be quite a blow.”

She put a hand on Gwenn’s. Gwenn stood up and withdrew as if a spider had crawled across her skin. She clung to the wall, trying to make herself small. Suddenly there was nothing so important in the world as being small, as being not there, as simply not existing in that time and space where those words had ruptured across her thoughts and blown her world away.

Porcia smirked and glided back to her desk.

“Yes, well.” She shook her head. “Isn’t
that
a shame?”

––––––––

P
orcia had Gwenn sequestered somewhere for the entirety of the day, and it drove Lucius mad wondering what was happening.

He trained with the women, appropriately celebrating with a lighter practice, not so hard on the discipline. Half of their last few hours of sparring were spent running instead, which was the norm in the ludus for the day after a good showing at the arena.

A bad showing at the arena meant training for two days straight, usually without any sort of breakfast or dinner in between. As if losing was some kind of vapor in the system, Murus and the other doctores would train their gladiators until there was nothing left in their bodies but hunger and the dull ache of obedience.

After dinner, finally, Lucius caught sight of her. She plainly saw him, but walked straight past the mess hall and into the cell blocks.

Running, he caught up with her quick, touching her on the arm. She shoved him away—and Lucius immediately knew that she knew. He did not know how, but it was clear enough.

Still, he tried anyway. He’d been practicing his speech all day.

“Gwenn,” he started. “I need to talk to you about something critical.”

“Really? Is it how you gutted my father with a trident?”

Lucius swallowed. There it was.

“It wasn’t...that’s not how it happened.”

“Why don’t you
tell
me how it happened, Lucius? I’m here. I’m listening. I’ve been
listening
to you for
weeks
. I’ve been hearing you talk and talk, all this nonsense out of your mouth, and how was I supposed to know the whole time you were just covering me in the filth of your lies?”

His voice was weak. “I wasn’t...I didn’t lie.”

“No? Then why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I know before you—before we—
why didn’t you tell me
?”

Tears clung to her eyes. Even the little liquid droplets seemed furious with him. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and he wished she would hit him.

Violence was the solution for most of his problems. Just hitting and hitting and hitting, until there was nothing left. As he could never, ever raise his hand against her, he hoped she would just pummel him into a jelly and solve all their problems. Maybe she could keep him in a jar in her cell.

“I didn’t know how to without hurting you.” What he said was very simple, and yet it felt like he spoke through clay. Hot tears surprised him, running down his own cheeks. “And I didn’t want to hurt you like that before your fight. Because then your mind would be somewhere else, and then you would die. And I couldn’t have that.”

“You can hang by Jupiter’s cock with what you would
have
.” She shoved him. “It’s my father. My choice. My decision about what to have and not have. And you...you took that from me.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I did. I’m sorry.”

She raised her arms to shove him again, but put them down. She turned away.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Lucius. This is making me sad. I need to not talk to you.”

“All right, Gwenn.”

She walked away then, and though she couldn't be out of his location, he knew that she was out of his life in every other way.

––––––––

B
ack in his cell, Lucius banged his head on the wall. Every bang interrupted his thoughts, and any pain from that was a lifetime better than what he felt from hurting Gwenn.

Their conversation had gone about as well as expected.

What Lucius had expected—and the whole reason he had delayed in telling Gwenn to begin with—was that his heart would be ripped out of his chest and his every hope and dream of a happy time with her would be destroyed.

Barring the actual ripping of his heart out from his flesh-and-bone chest, his prediction felt pretty spot on. He put a hand to his chest, making sure. There sure felt like there was a hole there.

He drifted out from the cell block into the evening air. There were no clouds in the sky. He stepped from one stone to another, occasionally coming down on the sands.

At least it was cool outside. He hated cloudy evenings in the warm months, the way the heat got trapped. Now the air felt almost cleansing over his skin.

If nothing else, she knew the truth. There were no other secrets there, waiting for her. Maybe, if circumstances worked out, maybe she’d realize that. Maybe it could turn around. Maybe...

“Hello Lucius.” Porcia had wrapped herself in a thick shawl. It framed her head beautifully, the white contrasting nicely with the deep blue of her belted stola. She certainly knew how to display herself. “Trouble with your fighters?”

Oh, Lucius thought dimly. It was her.

Of course it was Porcia. Who else would it be? Who else would think to interfere in a matter like that—and not only think it acceptable, but justified? Only Porcia.

“I’d like to be alone, Domina. If you don’t mind.”

He thought it odd that she didn’t have her guards with her. Perhaps she didn’t want them knowing. The grounds were rather empty, as a matter of fact—all the inner-estate guards either drunk or given the night off for the day after the ludus's victory.

His eyes scanned the grounds—there. On the steps up to the house. Her bodyguards waited lazily. Clearly, they expected nothing from Lucius. Probably a correct assumption. Lucius felt too tired to harm Porcia, even if she had revealed everything to Gwenn. Porcia changed how he would have liked to handle it, but the release of the information was going to happen one way or another. 

“I have, so you know, a brand new shipment of wine from Napoli sitting in my quarters at this very moment. Would you like a drink?”

Would he? Shit. He’d like ten. That was his whole problem.

“I don’t know.”

She was in front of him. Her hands took his. “I do. Come have a drink with me. We can talk about things. Perhaps which fighters you’d like to have here and which you wouldn’t. You’ve been very impressive lately with your attention on the gladiatrices. I’d love to see what you could do with a group of men. What do you think?” She nodded upward. “Shall we go up and talk about it?”

It was very unfair. She was using her soft voice—her lover’s voice. Porcia had many different voices, all with many different meanings, and Lucius had been around her long enough to know which was which. And this particular voice meant that she would be in a good mood for at least twelve hours or so, provided he gave her what he wanted.

His heart felt blasted to pieces. Laid out on a rock and picked at by vultures. Even knowing that the good time with her would only be temporary was still very tempting indeed.

“I...” he shook his head. “Porcia. You’re not being—”

She kissed him, then. It was long and earnest. He could feel her jaw moving against his, the taste of mint on her tongue as she pressed into his mouth.

Any pleasure he might have taken from it was instantly soured from the simple knowledge that his heart still belonged only to Gwenn.

A throat cleared from behind them. Porcia broke off from him, face surprised.

It was Senator Otho, stepping down from a horse. Several guards flanked him. “Hello, Porcia. I came to discuss the terms of my apology. Was I, perhaps, wrong to assume this was a good hour?”