The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath)

by Nadia Aidan

  “You say that with such surprise, Legalus. But did you ever stop to think Flavius was improving his skills?”

  Legalus’ snort caused her to chuckle.

  “Ay, what do you mean by that?” Flavius demanded half-heartedly.

  “You know what I meant by it.” Legalus shrugged.

  Aurora shook her head when they began to quarrel and she left them for the moment to put away her weapons. As she was returning to stand beside them, Cyrus called for every gladiator and recruit within the arena to gather around him.

  She exchanged a curious look with both Legalus and Flavius, but they simply shrugged.

  “Our dominus has arranged for a display of our fortitude as gladiators to officially honor the return of Senator Balbus Vibius.”

  Murmurs rose up among them, drowning Cyrus out until they quieted once again. “The games will take place in three days time, and every gladiator within this house shall fight.”

  Cyrus’ gaze found her. It was a brief look, so fleeting that if she’d blinked she would have missed it. And yet, in those passing moments she heard what he did not say, what he could not at that time.

  Whatever demons she still carried inside of her, she would need to quiet them before she returned to the arena.

  Aurora decided then that the look within his eyes could not have suggested such a thing, because he knew nothing of the demons that still haunted her, the scars of her past. He thought her pain had begun as a young slave girl in the house of her first dominus. He did not know that had been nothing compared to the pain that had come later as a prized gladiatrix.

  No, Cyrus did not know of that past because she had not told him of it, so she must have misread the look on his face, but when she turned to leave with the others, and Cyrus called for her to join him, she realized Cyrus was more astute than she gave him credit, he was far more astute than which she was comfortable.

  “You know why I wished to speak with you.”

  “To tell me how much you enjoyed our time last eve?” Her eyes flashed with laughter, although her belly stirred with apprehension.

  She noted, however, that Cyrus’ neck darkened, which meant last eve had not been far from his mind. Throughout the day, it had not been far from hers either.

  “Do not use humor or seduction to distract me. This is serious.”

  She sobered.

  “You will not tell me what drove you to unleash your fury upon Primus, but I know it has everything to do with your time as a gladiator, and why you disappeared from the arena.”

  She started at how close he was to the truth.

  “I have come to know you well, Aurora.” His eyes softened, matching the gentleness of his voice. “And I know whatever still haunts you, you must put it aside. Claudius will expect you to perform well, and if you wish to remain in his favor, you will do just that.”

  “I will be fine.”

  “Aurora—”

  She touched his arm lightly. A fleeting caress—because the guards and several fighters still lingered about—it was just enough to quiet the storm within his eyes—somewhat.

  “I will be fine.” Her voice was firm, her smile unwavering.

  This time when she turned, he let her go, and Aurora left the training area with her back straight and her head high. All the while, her insides churned as if it was a ship being tossed among tempestuous waves. She did not know if she would be fine. It was one thing to fight before the nobility or to spar with another gladiator during practice at a ludus. Quite another beast entirely to find herself in the center of the arena, the roar of the crowd thundering in her ears, their excitement, the intensity of their fervor, pounding through her body.

  She was ashamed to admit she’d relished the adoration, the adulation of the crowd, of being a favored champion. That frightened her the most. To return to the arena she would have to recapture the person she’d once been—bloodthirsty and brutal. At first, every kill had haunted her, until she’d grown numb, doing what she was ordered to do without feeling, without remorse.

  With a certainty, Aurora knew she would have one day died in the arena, had it not been for her final match. Had she not tasted the bitterness of fear and death upon her tongue. Had she not stared into eyes so like her own and knew the eyes staring back at her possessed a soul, while hers had been lost long ago.

  Those eyes still haunted her, even now. Every day she saw them, filled with terror. Those eyes had recently been joined by another pair. Aurora could not say which horror haunted her more, her last assignment or her last match, but the both of them dogged her every breath, her every step.

  She had hoped to be gone after two moons time, her mission long done, but she was not. And now, she would be forced to fight. She would have to step into the arena and face her past, a past that still crippled her.

  Aurora did not know if she could do it.

  She did not know what she would do if she didn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  As she’d grown accustomed to doing, that evening Aurora took her supper with Flavius and Legalus in the common area until it was well past dusk.

  Long after the duties of the others slaves within Claudius’ home were done, the gladiators and recruits still trained, so Aurora was always one of the last of the female slaves to return to her quarters and the baths.

  Petricles had stopped escorting her, but he would still do his rounds, along with one other guard until all the slaves had gone to bed. Each guard was required to take stock of the slave quarters in pairs before taking up their posts for the night. She had not heard their footsteps in some time and gathered they were making their way through the other wing of the villa. It would take them a while before they returned.

  Finally. She was alone.

  Climbing out of the pool, she pulled on her tunica and returned to the area along the wall where she’d first glimpsed the depressions in the brick facing.

  With every hidden passageway, there were three stones which when pressed in the proper sequence would unlock the door. The problem, of course, was deciphering the proper sequence of the code when several of the bricks could be pressed upon.

  The only reason why her task was not impossible was because there were few architects to the wealthy. They often used the same codes for the homes they designed, and since Aurora had studied the codes of all the famed Roman architects during her training under The Order her task was somewhat easier.

  The door was comprised of thirty-five bricks—five across and seven down, and not all of the bricks could be pressed inward. Aurora found thirteen bricks seemingly positioned randomly within the entryway that gave way easily. Anticipation danced through her. Thirteen bricks meant this was the work of the renowned Rabirius, and she knew all of his sequences. Over the course of her lessons, she’d always been particularly fascinated by his coded permutations and had studied him in earnest.

  There were no letters or numerals, so she reasoned the code would have to be relatively simple. Aurora began with the easiest sequence of all—pushing each of the thirteen stones three times. When that did not work, Aurora went on to more complicated sequences she’d committed to her memory. Her eyes darted between the entrance to the pool, and the door before her. She did not hear footsteps, but she did not wish to explain why she stood facing a wall, shoving against stones, if she was discovered.

  Aurora did not know how long she stood there, trying codes she knew, and even those she didn’t in the possible event Rabirius had created others. With each failed sequence, she discarded it, so as not to try it again.

  Petricles would now be making his way back to this side of the villa, so Aurora attempted one last code, before she would have to stop. With her breath locked inside her chest, she pushed the stone in the center once, twice, and then the stone in the left-hand corner just once.

  There was a faint click, followed by the sound of stone scraping against tile. A relieved smile crossed her face as the door slid open just a few palms length. She curled her fi
ngers around the edge, pulling it the rest of the way.

  She forced her body through the small space until she popped out on the other side, crouching within the dark passageway. She closed the door from inside and quickly made her way through the tunnel.

  The air was damp, and she knew if she touched the stones around her, she would find them wet with moss. She was careful not to touch a thing, and grateful that she did not hear the scurrying of mice and rats, as was common in such chambers.

  Unlike the Greeks, who designed their homes with interlocking tunnels that would form a labyrinth, the Romans did not connect their passageways. Aurora knew Claudius’ home had to possess several of these passageways, each one going from one destination to another, but still only one destination—so if this tunnel did not lead to Claudius’ private chambers, as she hoped, there was likely another one that did, hidden somewhere within his villa.

  When Aurora reached the end of the passageway, she pressed her ear close to the mossy wet stones. She heard nothing and gathered the chambers on the other end were empty. That is what she hoped. For if they were not, she would find herself in a difficult predicament, one that could not be explained away.

  With passageways such as these, Aurora knew the code used to get inside, was the same code that would let the person out. So she repeated the sequence, her movements, careful, cautious as she opened the door at the other end.

  As she cracked open the door, she was met with more darkness. Stepping from the tunnel, she found herself within a small alcove. Creeping deeper into the room, she soon realized where she was.

  She had been there once before, but had not immediately recognized her surroundings because she’d stood on the opposite end of the room.

  Claudius’ formal triclinieum—the place where he held large feasts. Aurora stood just beyond the alcove, in between two couches, one for Claudius, the other, Cornelia. For large celebrations, this was where they would dine—

  A muffled sound startled her, one she could not discern, but the interruption reminded her she’d lingered long enough. She returned to the passageway, closing the door firmly shut. She rushed through the darkened corridor, racing as fast as she could, though she was hunched over in the cramped space.

  Soon, she arrived at the door to the baths and after entering the same sequence again, the door creaked open to let her out. She peeked into the bathing chambers, a sigh of relief escaping her when she found the room empty.

  The guards had not returned, but the sound of footsteps drawing near told her to act quickly.

  She squeezed through the doorway again and turned to push it closed until she heard a resounding click.

  It was locked.

  She spun around and prepared to leave, but drew up short when she nearly bowled over a slight figure.

  “Artemisia,” she exclaimed, her hand covering her racing heart. “I did not see you there. What are you doing out of your quarters and at such a late hour?”

  The girl was young, she was naïve, but she was not stupid.

  “I was needed in the kitchen until late to help prepare for the feast that will accompany the games.” She scowled at Aurora, her gaze darting to the wall then back at her. “What were you just doing?” she demanded.

  “Bathing, of course.” Aurora moved to step around the girl, but Artemisia blocked her path.

  “You know what I mean. What were you doing coming out of that wall?”

  Aurora’s heart thundered. With just the slip of her tongue, whether casual or intentional, Artemisia could ruin everything.

  She raked the girl with her gaze, her voice cold and sharp as ice. “I do not know what you speak of, and I imagine if you told anyone I was coming out of a wall, they would think you mad.”

  “I am not a fool.” Artemisia’s eyes narrowed. “Nor am I blind. You discovered a secret passageway.”

  Aurora remained silent, her face revealing neither surprise, nor guilt. Her expression revealed nothing at all.

  “I shall not tell anyone. You can trust me.”

  Aurora was not in the habit of trusting others. Vacant eyes from her past flashed before her, wrenching at Aurora’s heart until she was forced to swallow the knot in her throat. She’d almost made that mistake once, on her last mission, with Imogene, and look what had happened. She’d not revealed a thing to Imogene, and still the girl had suffered.

  Artemisia may believe she would not tell a soul, but she’d never been tortured, she’d never experienced merciless pain. A person would reveal the darkest of secrets when faced with such unimaginable horrors.

  Aurora moved to sidestep her again, and this time the girl let her go, but called to her before she could exit.

  “You do not believe you can trust me.”

  Aurora regarded Artemisia with narrowed eyes. “It is not personal. I do not trust anyone.”

  “That is a sad existence. To have no one to confide in.”

  Artemisia’s statement was so unexpected, Aurora’s eyes rounded, before she gathered herself.

  “Maybe it is, but I have never known any different.”

  Artemisia tilted her head just slightly, regarding Aurora from beneath hooded lashes. Her eyes filled with compassion as she spoke softly. “But I am sure one day you shall.”

  Artemisia sounded so convinced. That brought a wry smile to Aurora’s lips, and she did not have the heart to tell the young woman that she was wrong, so she said instead, “Maybe.”

  * * * *

  Aurora was still awake when Artemisia returned from the baths.

  What was Petricles about just letting every slave wander around these days? That was the question she’d mulled over since returning to her quarters. If Artemisia had been escorted directly to her chambers until Aurora returned from the baths, the girl would never have happened upon her.

  Artemisia finding her was all but ideal. First Cyrus, and now Artemisia. In all her years as a Keeper, she’d never encountered so much suspicion.

  When Artemisia returned from bathing, Aurora was stretched out upon her pallet, her hands behind her head as she stared up at the gray ceiling made of mud and brick.

  The door closed behind the girl, and Petricles locked it as he always did at night.

  Aurora did not close her eyes, she did not pretend to sleep, but neither did she watch Artemisia closely.

  Artemisia had seen her coming from the secret chambers, there was nothing she could do to change that. If the girl did not remain quiet, Aurora would simply have to devise a plan to deal with her, or she would simply have to hasten her mission, which meant reckless actions that could get her killed.

  Neither option sat well with her.

  She scowled at Artemisia, whose back was to her. This was not the girl’s fault, it was hers. She should have been more careful.

  With that realization, the frown upon her face eased and she started to look away, but a flash of bronze snared her attention. She stilled at the sight of the small amulet within Artemisia’s hand.

  When the girl curled her fist around it, Aurora sat up straight.

  “What is that?” she asked, before she thought to stop herself. She’d seen it upon Artemisia once before, and thought she may have imagined it, but this time she’d gotten a clear glimpse and recognized the symbol.

  Artemisia looked at her in surprise, then down at her hand, but Aurora noticed she didn’t open her hand again. Quite the opposite, she shoved the object beneath her pallet.

  “It is a necklace,” Artemisia answered.

  “I know it is a necklace.” Aurora had to force herself not to snap at the girl. “What is the amulet? What is its meaning?”

  Aurora had no doubt as to the amulet’s meaning, but she wanted to know what was Artemisia’s story for possessing such an object, because Aurora would never believe it had been given to the girl.

  Now she fully understood why Artemisia had questioned the meaning of her tattoo, but if the girl possessed the amulet then she knew very well the meaning of the ma
rk upon Aurora’s body. She scrutinized Artemisia very closely. It just could not be, but there was always a chance that—

  “I do not know. It was my sister’s. That’s why I was curious of your tattoo because I too wondered of the symbol’s meaning.”

  Aurora shrugged. “Well, it is as I said. I do not know the meaning of the symbol. The tattoo was given to me by my old dominus.” She lied effortlessly, and every muscle in her body began to ease until she remembered all of what Artemisia had said.

  “Your sister?” Artemisia’s sister was an acolyte? “I did not know you had a sister.”

  Aurora almost envied the wistful smile upon Artemisia’s lips. She had a sister—four of them. Though she’d been sacrificed to save them, she could not imagine their eyes glowing with such love when they thought of her. It had been so long since she’d seen her sisters, she did not even remember how it felt to love them in return.

  The lump forming inside her throat was so unexpected it almost choked her. She swallowed deeply, as if it was a bitter pumice, and then she buried the memories.

  “Maia, that is my sister’s name. She is two years older than I, and we were brought here together.” Artemisia’s face darkened with shadows. “I should not tell you this—” The girl’s voice wavered. “But I spoke of you trusting me—and how can you trust me, if I do not trust you in return, right?”

  Artemisia stared at her as if expecting something in response, so she nodded. “That is right.”

  A smile crossed Artemisia’s face, but Aurora noticed it did not quite reach her eyes.

  “Claudius tried to take Maia to his bed, but she refused him. She fought back savagely, until our domina came upon them. Cornelia was furious with him, while he was furious with Maia. He had her whipped and then he sent her away.” Her eyes darted around as if she feared saying more would result in her own punishment as well. “I thought he sold her to another dominus, but I learned later that Claudius did not. I learned later that he deals in trades with slavers who purchase tavern whores, and that is who he sold my sister to. But it is worse than that. He has done this to many others. If he no longer favors you, you shall not be sold to another dominus, he will sell you to one of those taverns where one is treated cruelly.”