by Nadia Aidan
But the emergence of a small vial within Cornelia’s hand stilled Aurora. She stood there, her heart racing furiously at this turn of events.
She could not make out their words, but she understood enough especially when Cornelia handed the vial to Balbus.
She turned to leave as quickly and quietly as possible, but froze when Cornelia and Balbus moved to do the same. The couple parted ways, going in the directions from which they came. Aurora huddled deeper within the corner behind a marble column, holding her breath, not making a single sound as Cornelia passed by her again without taking notice.
When Cornelia turned the corner, Aurora relaxed—almost.
She had to hurry, the servant was sure to be searching for her now.
Peeking out from the corner, Aurora prepared to depart once again. This time what she saw elicited dual emotions within her.
Cyrus stood on the other side of the colonnade, the fountain partly obstructing her view of him. But while she could not see fully, she knew he was as naked as she. He was waiting on the other end of the villa to be led into the dining hall for their match.
He stilled, his gaze landing upon her, and Aurora wondered if her eyes swirled dark then light as his did. If the intense pull of attraction arcing between them, even from across the vast distance, was revealed so openly in her gaze as it was in his.
She could not be certain. What she was certain of was they’d both seen what had just transpired. Aurora knew what she would do with such knowledge, and with a sense of frustration, she knew what Cyrus would do as well.
She longed to convince him to forsake his honor just this once. With her eyes, she begged it of him. The deep frown set within his face told her he would not. She spun away from him, her lips pursed into a tight line.
Aurora cursed him as she made her way back to the spot where the girl had left her. This could all be over if he just remained quiet, and they would be better off for it—her, Cornelia, Balbus, Cyrus as well. It did not matter to him. He would do what was right—his principles would demand it of him.
“Where have you been?” The young slave demanded as soon as Aurora returned. “I have been looking for you everywhere. Your dominus is set to present you at any moment.”
“I am sorry. I waited here for some time. I thought you forgot about me so I went in search of the entrance to the triclinieum. I must have gotten turned around.”
The girl looked at her with suspicion in her narrowed eyes. It would not do to have one of Balbus’ slaves bearing witness to her brief disappearance, especially if anything happened to Claudius, so for this young girl’s sake, Aurora hoped she remained quiet if she was later questioned.
“Here, we must hurry.”
She ushered Aurora down the hall into a short darkened corridor supported by marble columns. From where she stood in the corner she could hear the hushed voices of the guests, and Aurora realized she was in some sort of narrowed alcove that opened up into the dining room.
She barely listened to Claudius’ voice droning on with great flourish. She all but ignored the sound until she heard Cyrus’ name, followed by hers.
A nod from the slave girl told her it was time and she stepped from the shadows into the expansive hall.
Couches lined the walls, where guests reclined, while the less esteemed, stood off to the sides. Aurora’s gaze lit upon the opulent spectacle, seeing it all, but not truly. She truly saw only Cyrus standing before her, his eyes boring into her, penetrating her.
Aurora barely heard the cacophony of murmurs all around them, the flurry of applause. The blood rushing through her veins, thundering in her ears—those were the sounds she heard, and nothing else.
As Claudius commenced with the presentation, she was handed a beautifully crafted gladius forged from iron. Cyrus held an identical weapon within his hand, the metal blade reflecting the light flickering from the lamps.
All of a sudden, Aurora was struck by the absence of sound. Claudius had taken his position upon one of the nearby couches with Cornelia to his right and Balbus on the other side of her.
The room was eerily silent, while the guests within watched and waited, their breaths seeming to have paused in anticipation of what was to come.
What came next was Cyrus’ attack, his blade raised high, ready to strike. She raised her sword at the last moment, deflecting his blow. Like a dancer tracing intricate steps in time to the beat of music, they moved together, as if in unison, their bodies writhing, twisting.
It was a dance, the rhythm fluid, yet silent.
Their bodies nude, covered in nothing but oil, it was an erotic dance, as sensual and intimate as the act of lovemaking.
The only sounds to be heard was the piercing grating of metal upon metal, the ragged breathing of the fighters wielding their blades, and the murmurs from the crowd.
As she’d done the first time she’d faced Cyrus, she battled him with the respect of a warrior—carefully, cautiously, even as she did not show him mercy. Her strikes were as ferocious as ever, her movements precise and efficient.
She faced him with the intensity of a gladiator.
And just like before, neither one yielded, neither one made a mistake. Aurora was not certain if their match was still an exhibition or if at some point it had become real to them both, because soon they were covered with crystal beads of sweat.
Aurora’s chest heaved, her lungs burned, her muscles ached. She would not yield.
Cyrus’ movements slowed, his breathing was erratic, his lips parted in exertion. He would not yield either.
She smiled. “You can always give up,” she whispered when their blades locked together and they drew in close.
“After you,” he replied courteously, his eyes flashing.
“But I am not tired.” She pushed away from him. “I only suggested that because you appear exhausted.”
“Do I?” Her teeth rattled when he delivered a sweeping blow, and she raised her blade to meet it, the shock vibrating through every part of her. “I do not feel exhausted at all.”
“Liar.” She smirked, but she did not expend any further energy on continuing their discussion. It was all she could do to focus on not losing this bout against him when every muscle in her body screamed with weariness.
When Claudius abruptly stood and called an end to the match, Aurora wanted to sink to the floor and curl up right there before all.
“I declare it a draw.” Claudius beamed proudly, having to shout above the applause.
Aurora nodded when Claudius heaped praises upon them both. She had done her part. She had stood against the champion of Capena and proven herself worthy. That Cyrus had not defeated her would be considered a minor slight against his reputation, but once word spread of her valiant battle against Cyrus, many would fill the arena to see her first match and Cyrus redeem himself before the crowds. She knew well that had been Claudius’ intent all along. That he could honor Balbus’ return had simply been for pretense.
A small slave boy entered the hall holding a tray with two cups of wine upon it and Balbus stood to take them. Raising one in the air, he offered the other to Claudius.
“We raise our cups to Governor Claudius Cicero Norbanus,” Balbus began. “Keeper of the finest gladiators in all of Rome.”
The room erupted with revelry, some raising their cups, others still applauding. But the two gladiators at the center of the room did not join in the celebrations.
Cyrus’ entire body radiated with barely leashed tension. It poured from him so strongly Aurora could feel it coursing through her entire being.
He moved toward Claudius, but she stilled him with her hand against his arm.
He looked at her sharply, but before he could protest, she spoke.
“Think about what you are about to do,” she rasped quietly. “Cornelia and Balbus will know that you have seen their treachery, and you will become their target as well. Your life is not worth enough to either of them.
“And Claudius cannot prote
ct you,” she continued, glimpsing his determined expression. “Not from the both of them. Not when he cannot even protect himself.” She curled her hand tighter around his forearm. “Let it be.”
He shook his arm free. “No.”
“Cyrus!” She whispered louder this time, but he ignored her as he headed for Claudius.
Aurora looked between Cyrus and Cornelia, her gaze remaining fixed upon the latter. Cornelia sat up straighter, as Cyrus neared Claudius. Aurora followed after him, but her attention remained riveted on Cornelia.
She’d never imagined the governor’s wife would be her ally in anything, but in the murder of Claudius Norbanus, she was.
Aurora conveyed with desperation in her eyes—I know what you are about and if you do not wish to fail, stop Cyrus now.
It was already too late. Cyrus was now too close, and Cornelia too far away.
Aurora wasn’t, but what she decided to do was so at odds with what she wished, she almost cringed. Cornelia and Balbus’ plot was well on its way to being foiled. Her only option was to take advantage of the situation.
Without further thought, she bowled past Cyrus, pushing him aside.
As Cyrus stumbled, she lunged for Claudius, knocking the cup from his hand just as he lifted it to his lips.
The bronze chalice clattered to the floor, wine splattering across the colorful mosaic tiles.
Claudius lurched forward as if he would strike her for her clumsiness, but Cyrus called for him to stop, drawing his attention to the spilled contents. Claudius’ eyes narrowed then darkened at the puddle of wine beside him, that was slowly eating away at the tiles, a misty steam rising up from it.
What came after, Aurora decided belonged in one of the Greek dramas she’d once read. Claudius stood shaken and horrified, his gaze accusatory when it landed on Balbus.
The senator protested, blaming others within his house, but his shifting eyes and reddened cheeks weakened his claims.
What had promised to be a celebration that would commence well into the early morning ended abruptly, with Claudius Norbanus’ party the first to depart.
* * * *
“That is ridiculous. Why would Balbus Vibius wish you dead?”
“I do not know, Cornelia,” Claudius bellowed. “But you saw his face. He was guilty. My long time friend plots against me. He plots to kill me.”
Aurora stood beside Cyrus within the private outer chambers belonging to Claudius and Cornelia, as if they were invisible, waiting to be addressed.
Aurora did not mind. It afforded her the opportunity to study the features of the room, as she’d not had a chance to do so before. This was not where the couple slept, but where they spent their leisure time. Aurora observed the space searching for any hint that the door to a hidden passageway could be found inside.
Something caught her attention—the smooth indentions of perfect, symmetrical lines within one corner, mostly obscured by a decorative statue of the Roman god, Innus.
Aurora raised her brow at that. The god of sexual intercourse? Between the roaming eyes of both Claudius and Cornelia, she doubted he found favor within these chambers.
“That is foolishness,” Cornelia snapped, dragging Aurora back to the argument unfolding before her. “Did you not hear Aurora? She said she could not make out the person who poisoned your wine, only that she glimpsed someone hovering before your cups while she waited in the atrium. Do you not see, the very person who plots against you purposely put this upon Balbus so that you would do as you are doing now, blaming him, while the real culprit is still free to try to harm you again.”
Aurora stared at Cornelia with new eyes. When questioned of how she’d known Claudius’ cup was poisoned, the lie had spilled forth effortlessly, for the truth Aurora could not reveal. Cornelia was bold, recounting the blatant lie with ease. She was cunning. Cunning and deadly, Aurora amended, remembering Cornelia had also tried to murder her.
“You could be right.”
Aurora could see that Claudius wavered now between his own inner convictions and the treacherous words of his wife.
“You know that I am. Balbus has been a good friend to us for a long time. We should apologize on the morrow.” Cornelia grasped his arm and started to lead Claudius toward their inner sanctum, but he stopped.
As if remembering Aurora and Cyrus still stood there, he said, “I wish to offer my gratitude to you both. If not for your actions, I would be dead.”
They nodded, though Aurora could feel the stiffness in her neck. Had it not been for Cyrus’ interference she would have been gone from this place. Even if not by her hand, with Claudius dead, her duty would have been done. She sighed inwardly, cursing him yet again.
“I wish to honor you for what you have done. Whatever you desire, if it is within my means you shall have it—denarii, private chambers, wine. —”
“Thank you dominus, you honor us,” replied Cyrus. “But we require no tribute, we live to serve you.”
Outraged, Aurora speared Cyrus with her gaze, and before she could stop herself she blurted, “You do not speak for me.”
Her words plunged the room into freezing depths, and its occupants were struck with an uncomfortable silence at her outburst. It had been so long since others had spoken for her, since others had decided what she would eat, what she would wear, how she would talk even. She’d reacted poorly to Cyrus’ statement.
“My apologies for my hasty words. I only meant to say that I would like to have the rest of this eve to walk freely about the arena, to bathe without the hovering of guards.”
Claudius regarded her carefully. “That is all? You wish to train within the arena and then bathe without the shadow of the guards.” When she nodded, he shrugged. “I see no harm in that. The champions of my ludus shall walk freely about then.” A grin spread across his face. “With your performance this eve, and what you did for me after, I will extend to you this privilege for as long as you desire.”
Aurora bowed her head. “Thank you, dominus.”
She was dismissed after that, but she noticed Cyrus remained behind. For a moment, she pondered why, but she did not ponder long.
Without him shadowing her as effectively as one of Claudius’ soldiers, Aurora returned to the arena straight away.
The bluffs at the edge of the training arena held her attention as the light from the moon streamed out across the ridge. She studied the jagged rocks, the water beneath, brushing across the sand.
The vision before her—it was as beautiful as it was deadly.
It was also deceptive. She could not jump from such a height, while climbing down would take a great deal of time, and she would expend a great deal of effort in doing so.
Cyrus had been right. She could not use this route. When the time came to make her escape, she would have to leave by another way.
The angry thud of footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned just as Cyrus was entering the training arena.
The bluffs stood on the other end of arena, and Aurora had purposely clung to the shadows thinking if a guard walked past, she’d not want him to notice her standing upon the edge, scrutinizing a possible route of escape.
Masked by the darkness, Cyrus did not see her as he picked up one of the wooden short swords from a pile off to the side. He was normally very astute, his body seemingly synchronized to the sights and sounds all around him.
He’d told her little of his life before ending up in Capena, but he’d revealed he’d once been a soldier in the Thracian army. She suspected his military training was the reason why his senses were so heightened, and that he was always alert.
That he did not sense her presence revealed to Aurora he was gravely distracted.
That he now slashed his weapon through the air with an almost primal violence revealed to her just how angry he was as well.
Shrouded deep within the shadows, Aurora’s gaze trailed the light of the moon, its gentle rays caressing him as one would a lover. His body was graceful, fluid, as every muscl
e stretched and lengthened with each deadly strike of his sword.
Sparring alone, he fought his nameless, faceless opponent with intensity. His fervor, his passion; she imagined being the receiver of such gifts, his eyes gazing intently upon her, his rough, callused hands roaming her body, warm and gentle, firm and strong.
She began to tremble, a sultry, sensuous warmth whispering through her.
A faint gasp slipped past her lips, equal measures astonishment and desire, the dual emotions colliding with one another as they coursed within her. She’d never responded so fiercely to any man. She’d never watched another fight and had the simple beauty of his form mesmerize her, enthrall her, incite her inner longings.
This worried her—the unrelenting attraction between them that had ignited the moment they’d met. For the first time since she’d taken her oath, Aurora hesitated. What if he stood in her way, if he stood against her?
Cyrus.
The only man to see past her scars—all of them—even the ones forever branded into her soul. He was the only man to brave her walls and dare to touch the core of her, and in his eyes she’d glimpsed a future she could never have, but longed for nonetheless. Despite the ghosts still haunting her, the demons shadowing their every moment together, he still wanted her. If he stood in her way, her duty demanded she destroy this man who offered her tenderness and passion, even if it meant destroying herself.
His strikes grew more savage and sweat pearled on the golden planes of his bronzed skin, forcing her to stifle a needy sigh, as a deep, raw hunger stirred inside her belly. Though she’d never felt the press of his body, forging through the core of her, she was convinced he fought the way he made love—with focus, with raw, untamed passion.
Warmth pooled at the center of her body, until she was drenched in liquid heat, every part of her quivering and needy.
She moaned, drawing his attention and he stopped, their gazes clashing then locking. Aurora had revealed herself, and in her eyes she’d revealed the depths of her desires. She could hide no longer, not from him, and certainly not from the carnal passion scorching between them, so she stepped from the shadows, joining him in the center of the arena—the very place where this had all begun.
