And she wasn’t the only one. Honoria turned on her general with such a scorching glare there was no doubt Soren would pay a high price for this misstep.
The general’s face turned stone cold. He drew himself up and stood his ground but Honoria wasn’t letting it go. Her silence said far more than any reprimand would have. Soren had lost the Caesar’s favor. He would come to regret it bitterly.
Good. It was no less than he deserved.
Amelia transferred her gaze back down to Gabriel making his way to the front of the group. With each halting step her hands curled more and more until her nails dug crescents into her palms. When he reached the front, instead of touching his chest, Gabriel raised his sword high and then swept it sideways and bowed low like a knight.
“Ave angelus aureus,” he called. “Indignus te salutant.”
Honoria smiled beatifically and raised her chin higher. But Gabriel wasn’t finished. He straightened and added in English, “And hail Honoria. Today you die.”
Honoria turned her frigid gaze on Amelia and hissed furiously as the crowds fell deathly silent. Amelia clasped her hands in front of her so no one would see them shaking. Down below, every gladiator present turned to stare at Gabriel. Some clutched their weapons, ready to make something bleed while others appeared as stunned as the audience.
Oh, God, Gabriel, what have you done?
“Shall I gather the troops, my liege?” Soren asked, stoic.
Honoria was breathing hard, nostrils flaring. If she was anyone else, she would be screaming. But Caesar pulled herself together again, at least enough to speak. “Get me Lucia,” she said. “You are dismissed. I’ll deal with you later.”
Soren’s jaw muscles twitched but he did as his mistress commanded him. With a curt bow he left and moments later a woman with closely cropped red hair and a black tattoo on her face came in. She was a soldier, dressed in the same type of uniform as all of Soren’s men, except her armor was altered to accommodate her breasts and she had daggers strapped to her body.
“Stay close,” Honoria commanded without looking at her. She’d given the signal and gladiators were dispersing, picking out their places in the arena. Gabriel was the only one who remained standing where he was, his gaze locked with Honoria. “What are you up to?” she said to herself.
“He was very clear in his speech,” Amelia said, just to annoy her.
“You must care for him very much,” Caesar said, making a cut motion with her hand. “To hold out hope he will survive what is coming when he can barely keep his feet under him.”
The gates opened and a flood of more people rushed in like a maddened mob. They swarmed the gladiators, outnumbering them five to one, and the battle began.
It was a slaughter. Dozens fell, then dozens more as the warriors methodically plowed through the masses. Amelia kept watching Gabriel, wincing each time he took a hit. Despite Caesar’s mockery, he was still standing, still fighting, and with each opponent who fell, Honoria’s posture became a little more rigid and Amelia smiled a little wider.
The hordes were weakening, bodies littering the arena, but shockingly more of them were still moving than not. Many more. The gladiators were fighting to win, not to kill. Amelia wanted to get up and cheer them on. She had absolutely no doubt this was Gabriel’s doing and couldn’t hope to temper the grin that lit up her face. Take that, you viper.
“Touching,” Honoria said. “But you’re getting ahead of yourself. This is just the beginning.”
The gates opened again. From one side bowmen in horse drawn chariots rolled into the fray, stomping those still on the ground into dust without a backwards glance. From the other side, wild animals charged anything still moving, ripping limb from limb. Those horde fighters who were still able picked up their weapons again and joined in the fight, as if that was all they lived for. It was chaos, war. More kept coming in, more kept falling.
Amelia couldn’t look at it as people dying anymore; there were too many to distinguish. Now it was an overwhelming, mad slaughter without an obvious victim. All were killing and all were dying, even the animals. She lost sight of Gabriel in the mess. So much was going on the arena was sheer chaos. The crowds ate it all up, shouting and throwing things, which only riled the fighters more.
A sharp smile creased Honoria’s face. She watched it all without blinking, her eyes feverish. She was enjoying this!
Amelia couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and turned for the exit.
The short haired Lucia blocked her way.
“You will sit and see this through,” Honoria ordered.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I will have Lucia here slit your throat and toss you down there for the beasts,” the Caesar said with an easy shrug, as if she wouldn’t blink an eye at giving the order; wouldn’t mind either way unless she got blood on her pretty dress. “Besides.” She turned her head to spare Amelia a cold look. “He fights for you. It would be rude to abandon him.”
Amelia looked from Honoria to her red haired assassin. They waited for her to make up her mind. The redhead was still as a statue, stone faced but sharp eyed. If Amelia twitched toward the exit she would be instantly subdued.
Stiff legged, she turned and went back to her seat. Her knees nearly buckled as she lowered herself into it. She clutched the armrests, shaking with helpless fury. The puppet strings weren’t merely taut now, they were tightly wrapped around her neck. The more she fought, the more she choked. She hated Honoria for it with a passion she hadn’t known she was capable of until now. “This is all just a game to you,” she accused. “Just a day’s entertainment, isn’t it?”
Honoria inclined her head. “If it pleases you to think so.”
“You want me here to rattle Gabriel.”
She didn’t deny it. “I’ll admit I’ve had my fun with him. But he’s become a nuisance.”
The confession made Amelia’s heart beat faster and that damn vertigo intensified until the entire world moved beneath her feet. “You manipulated us. You wanted Gabriel to come for me last night. You hoped it would distract him in the arena.”
Honoria said nothing. Which was pretty much a confirmation.
“My God,” Amelia said, unable to comprehend such ruthless calculation. “How long have you been screwing with us? Since you dragged us here? Since you found us in Miramar?”
The Caesar laughed at that. She looked at Amelia through eyes bright with amusement. “Oh, you fanciful creature. You think this is about you?”
Amelia looked down into the arena. She couldn’t see Gabriel anywhere. Not a sign of him, not a gleam of his swords, not the blue plumes of his helmet. If he’d lost it somewhere, it had gotten covered with sand. Her pulse throbbed in her temples as she sought his familiar form in the throng of fighters. On the ground. In the darkened doorways that stood open wide like the waiting gates of hell.
He was nowhere to be seen.
“No, my dear,” Honoria was saying. “My purpose is, and always was, only Gladius.”
Her indulgent voice made Amelia cold to her core. “Since when?” She could hardly hear herself say the words; dreaded the answer, learning the true depth of Honoria’s obsession. She imagined the Caesar watching her gladiators with lust in her gaze, catching on one among many. The tall brave fighter who stood victorious again and again. How long had she been trying to mold him into her toy?
“Since long before he ever stepped foot on Roman soil.”
Chapter 29
The fight went on until the only ones left standing were gladiators. The horses had run, taking the chariots with them and destroying three of the gates. Ever efficient slaves had repaired them in a flash to keep the animals contained. The beasts themselves were ripping into the dead, gorging themselves on human flesh. Some lay dead, but most were scattered about, minding their own business now that there was plenty of meat to go around.
As for the gladiators, at least twenty had fallen. From this far up they were indistinguishable from the
rest of the bodies and there was no telling who survived and who hadn’t. At least that’s what Amelia thought. The remaining warriors once again faced their Caesar, winded, wounded, wary of the carnivores mere feet away, but they stood proudly, having fought a war and come out the victors.
Honoria shoved to her feet and clutched the railing. “Where is he?” she hissed.
“My lady?” Lucia said. It was the first time she’d spoken since she’d arrived. Her voice was hoarse, as if her vocal chords had been damaged somehow. Amelia winced, hearing her. She wanted to sit the woman down and run a scan to figure out what was wrong and then fix it. But that was her MD talking.
“Find him,” Honoria ordered.
Lucia bowed and gave a signal.
Down below the gates opened again, all of them this time, and men with whips came to herd the animals back into their cages. The beasts roared and snarled, protecting their kills but they must have been trained to fear that particular type of attire because they eventually obeyed. It was like watching Noah’s ark empty out. Two by two the animals went, the tiger with the lion, the cheetah with the panther, and the hyena with the bear. Many still had a limb in their jaws, a snack for later.
Once all the animals were gone the gladiators once again saluted, this time with a wordless cry, and waited for further orders. Caesar was too distracted to issue them. She and Amelia both searched the arena floor, looking for Gabriel among the fallen. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Lucia went to the man wearing a bright red sheet and said something in his ear. With a nod, the man turned to the audience and raised his arms high. His image appeared on every screen and the crowds cheered and then quieted. When the man spoke, his voice resounded everywhere, but didn’t echo. Amelia couldn’t tell if there were hidden speakers or if he was simply that good.
“Today Caesar’s legions overcame their first challenge! But there are far more difficult trials yet ahead! Beasts of legend, treacherous spies, cutthroat pirates and deadly traps are but a few things awaiting the brave men of Rome in the days to come! But for now, they go to their much deserved reward!”
Hoots and cheers accompanied the entrance of what could only be a group of prostitutes. They were topless, with only golden paint and glittering jewels to disguise their nudity, and diaphanous skirts to accentuate their sensuous gait. They glided around dead bodies, gracefully making their way to the warriors left standing as if none of the gore touched them.
A woman to each man, they kissed them on the cheek and led them by the hand from the arena. One of the men tossed his woman over his shoulder and carried her out. Another backed his against the wall and kissed her hard right there.
A third didn’t move when his woman beckoned. Instead, he pulled her back to him and painstakingly brushed her hair back over her shoulder without getting blood on her. That simple act showed such unexpected gentleness after all the carnage Amelia’s insides warmed a little. What incredible strength it had to take to do what these men did and not be warped by it. When those two left, they did it walking side by side, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Amelia was sorry to see them go.
Slaves took over the arena once the warriors had left. They started clearing out the bodies as the stadium seats emptied. Amelia couldn’t look away. Most of the bodies were picked up and tossed on waiting wagons like so much trash to be disposed of. The slaves were meticulous, leaving nothing behind except the blood soaking into the sand. But one group of slaves, dressed all in white, had a different approach. She could only assume they tended to the valuable dead. They stopped at each of the fallen, touched them, and arranged the bodies to lie straight with the arms at their chests. They gave them their weapons back. Only then did they pick them up and place them on one of the wagons. And when they wheeled the fallen out, the slaves chanted some sort of funeral dirge. It was as much respect as those men were ever going to get.
Did they have families outside of Rome? Would any of them know what had happened to their sons and brothers? Would they care? Somehow Amelia couldn’t imagine the Caesar going to the trouble of contacting them.
When the last of the bodies was cleared from the arena and the audience was gone, Honoria snarled, turned away and left, her attendants following their angry mistress.
All but Lucia who stayed behind, staring at Amelia. “I’m guessing that means I’m supposed to follow.”
Stone faced Lucia said nothing, just waited. Amelia was almost certain the woman was ten times more deadly and ruthless than Soren. She still preferred her to the general.
She followed the entourage down those narrow steps that were beginning to feel like a press closing in on her. It wasn’t much better outside. The streets were full again, people going about their daily lives. There were markets filled with merchants selling everything from fine silks, to flat bread, to weapons both decorative and deadly and holographic posters everywhere showed highlights of today’s battle and touted attractions still to come.
It was an absurd dichotomy between the merchants dressed in rags, shouting their wares and shoving them in the face of every passerby in hopes of earning a coin, and those sleek, modern advertisements that belied Rome’s apparent age.
There were merchants selling oil lamps and candles but even though the main street was lined with torches, the posts were too solid in the ground to be mere wood. Amelia ambled closer to one and ran her fingers across it. Metal. Probably hollow to channel fuel up to the flame.
None of it was real. It was all an excuse for rich people to give in to their sadistic fantasies and not feel guilty. It made her sick.
The silent assassin at her back shoved into Amelia, steering her back onto the main path. She’d almost taken a wrong turn, so lost in her surroundings she couldn’t see the Caesar and her entourage anymore. The distraction was a welcome one and she looked Lucia over, trying to catalog her in her internal encyclopedia of Rome. “What are you supposed to be?” she asked.
Predictably, the redhead didn’t answer.
“I meant you don’t look like the rest of the Romans.” She navigated around a leather merchant who was determined to sell her a corset of some sort and looked back at Lucia. “The tattoo isn’t a trademark feature of Rome.”
No answer.
At a particular deadlock of foot traffic, Amelia looked over the holograph advertising hair adornments. She’d seen them on a few of the ladies today, sticking out of their hair at the temples. Nothing between them, but something had cast a shadow over their eyes. Sun screens.
Lucia shoved into her again and, annoyed, Amelia stepped through the holograph, enduring the momentary field of static that made fine hairs all over her body stand on end.
“My people hail from Gallia,” the assassin said.
“I see.” There was nothing else to say to that, since Amelia wasn’t familiar with the term and had no idea whether the woman was serious or playing a role. “Is that near Rome?”
No answer.
Amelia shrugged. She didn’t see much point in trying to carry on a conversation after that.
They were not going to Honoria’s palace. Instead Lucia steered them to some sort of meeting hall where men robed in white were running out as they were trying to get in. “She’s gone mad!” one of them said to himself, looking over his shoulder.
Took you long enough to notice. The Caesar wasn’t what Amelia would call a pillar of sanity. It was good her own people were beginning to notice. It meant Honoria’s position had become more precarious. “She’s dismissed her most trusted general,” she told the man in an aside, giving him a meaningful look.
His eyes went wide.
“Tell everyone,” she said.
Lucia shoved her to get her moving and Amelia complied, knowing full well the power of a little rumor. She smiled at the redhead.
Lucia looked at her as if she couldn’t decide whether punishment was required but there was a hint of admiration in her eyes. It made Amelia stand a little st
raighter. She’d earned a little respect from the assassin. “Pride goeth before a fall,” Lucia said.
“Then let’s hope my angel wings hold steady,” she replied, thinking of Gabriel. She hadn’t seen him go down. He hadn’t been among the fallen, and she would have recognized him among the ones still left standing. Where could he be? The gates had remained open until they’d released the animals. Could he have slipped out somehow? Was it too much to hope he’d escaped before the worst of it? He could be hiding somewhere now, biding his time.
Don’t press your luck. She wished she could make him hear. They’ll be looking for you. Don’t make it easy for them. But where could he hide?
The corridors gleamed with polished marble. Someone had infused the cracks with gold to seal them and those veins running in every direction created an intricate web across the floors. Such a waste of wealth. It was a symbol of status, nothing more. Means that would have been better spent caring for the people of Rome. Every carved bust they passed had a smug, haughty look on its face. A dozen, then another, of old men who had ruled this place, but not a single woman. Not until they reached an arched doorway. There, on one side was the statue of a woman in a helmet, with a sword in her hand, almost hidden against the flow of her gown. It was as tall as Amelia and her eyes were so empty and detached, it was uncomfortable to look into them.
“The goddess Athena,” Lucia said. “Justice.”
“Justice without mercy,” she countered, indicating the sword.
“As it should be,” Lucia said, then nodded to the other statue. Honoria in all her glory, taller than the goddess, her robes made of some kind of blue stone, with emerald inlays for the belt and clasps at her shoulders. Her body was pure white marble, without a single crack or flaw. Her hair was painted with gold and her irises glittered with ferric diamonds.
Amelia looked closer. At least one of them did. The other had a marble in the socket instead. She bit back a smile, remembering the diamond Gabriel had given her. It was about the right shape and size. And it currently lay on her kitchen table, underneath a tea cup turned upside down. Her chin was a little higher when they entered the chamber, her eyes a little sharper, and her mouth stretched the slightest bit into a faint smile.
Blood Debts (The Blood Book 3) Page 27
