by Nadia Aidan
“It was the crowd that condemned him and another gladiator was sent into the arena to do what I would not. I had no choice.” Her voice caught. “The other gladiator would have killed him, and then he would have killed me, so I slay them both.” Aurora felt her heart break all over again as she saw that moment flicker before her eyes. It was a moment she would never forget and always regret. “His name was Kaden. I tried to be merciful, I did not want him to know pain, so I told him to close his eyes.”
Aurora closed her own then and breathed out, and all of a sudden she was exhausted.
“He told me it was alright, that he understood.” Aurora smiled, though she did not realize it. “I told him he was very brave.”
After that, the room was so quiet Aurora began to drift off. She was drained in every way. She had nothing left to give, not to Cyrus, not even to herself.
“What happened after you retired from the arena?”
Aurora did not open her eyes, she simply smiled against his bare chest. Olympia had happened, The Order. That night, Aurora had planned to take her own life for what she’d done, the pain of her desolate existence had come to be too much to bear. Olympia, however, had seen her perform in the games, she’d apparently seen something else within her as well. Aurora did not know, and Olympia had never truly said, but before she’d left the arena with her dominus, Olympia had stopped them and offered an almost vulgar sum for Aurora. Her master had favored her greatly, but with the coins Olympia furnished, he could purchase ten more of her.
“I was soon purchased by a kind domina. She recently died, and I was sold by her son to Claudius’ home.”
Aurora winced at the lie, but there was no way around it. Cyrus was curious about her past, he would question her until he learned every detail from her time then, to her time now. It was simpler this way, and safer for them both.
“Thank you.”
Her eyes snapped open, a small, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Only Cyrus would thank her for unburdening her ravaged soul to him. She burrowed deeper into his embrace.
“It is you who is very brave, for having the courage to tell me this.” His arms tightened around her. “But you know his death was not your fault. We are slaves who fight in the arena. You had no choice.”
“There is always a choice, Cyrus. Always.”
“There is—you could have chosen to die alongside Kaden, but to what end?”
“At least I would have died with my honor, my dignity—”
Cyrus’ gaze darkened, his hand seizing her chin until she lifted her eyes to him. “You still have that, Aurora. Your honor, your dignity, no one can take that away from you unless you allow it. What you did for Kaden was honorable, it was dignified. What happened back then has nothing to do with honor or dignity, it has only to do with forgiveness.”
Her heart stuttered.
She wanted to protest, but she was too weary. “Kaden forgave you, Aurora. Don’t you think it is time you finally forgave yourself?”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, finally admitting to Cyrus what she had not even admitted to herself until just now. She could not seem to forgive herself for what she’d done. She didn’t know if she ever could.
“That you would share with me something that has pained you so deeply tells me that you want to, which tells me that you can.” His expression was confident. “And I know just how strong you truly are, which tells me that you will, maybe not on the morrow, but one day.”
Humbled by his faith in her, when she still had such little faith in herself, Aurora’s throat choked with emotion. She stared into clear, blue eyes until she could do so no longer and once again she rested her head against his chest.
As she let herself be lulled to sleep by the steady, sure rhythm of Cyrus’ beating heart, she wondered where she would go from here, when this mission was over, her duty was done, and she was forced to leave Cyrus behind.
She’d never known a man such as him, never faced such a dilemma, but she knew her feelings for Cyrus changed nothing about her mission. She would do her duty and then she would disappear back to Ostia, as she always did.
Yet, she knew with a certainty that while she might leave him behind in body, for the man who’d touched her soul and dared to heal it, Aurora would leave a piece of her heart, that would always be his—forever.
Chapter Nine
Claudius believed her to be insolent and defiant, in need of humility. So she’d been relegated to the kitchen where she would spend however long he determined, learning how to humble herself.
Aurora had thought for certain such an act of impertinence would have earned her a journey into the fields, she’d actually anticipated such a response, which was why she’d deliberately provoked Claudius. Whether in the fields or the kitchen, Aurora could still obtain what she sought, but she did appreciate the ease of labor to be found within the kitchen—which she had Cornelia to thank for, though she never would. Cornelia had been true to her word, and in lessening the severity of her punishment, she had unknowingly aided their unified cause of hastening Claudius’ demise.
Between Cyrus and Cornelia, Aurora’s initial plan of gaining Claudius’ favor as his lover had been thwarted almost from the moment of her arrival. For weeks now, she’d spun her wheels devising a strategy that would not end in her certain death.
Claudius was paranoid, more so since he’d almost been poisoned. He’d purchased the services of some retired legionnaires to join his personal guard. To her way of thinking, that was a foolish decision on his part. If one were to plot against her, she would not invite more strangers into her home.
She’d counted six new soldiers. Not a great many of them, but more soldiers to contend with was not an ideal circumstance. Aurora had not worked out a firm strategy as of yet. With all the events that had transpired, she was constantly reforming her plan.
She knew she could not make an attempt upon his life in a bold manner. Whatever plan she arrived at would have to involve her striking Claudius when he was not heavily guarded. All she could do now was make preparations for when that time would come.
She glowered at the brazier she’d been instructed to clean, noting this particular task, was so at odds with those preparations. Aurora glanced down the line at all of the items—four cauldrons, several gridirons and trivets, and the domed oven, which she’d decided she would reserve for last.
It was not the labor, nor the menial task, which bothered her. It was where she was within the kitchen—back in the work area away from all the food. She sighed. Well at least she was inside the kitchen, where eventually she might be able to steal away and do what she’d set out to do since learning of her banishment.
Aurora looked up when Artemisia entered the room with a serene smile weaving its way across her face.
“The gods certainly favor you,” she chirped. “Thesia has taken ill, and we require another pair of hands to finish the noon day meal. Supper as well.”
Aurora grinned, already standing to her feet. For once she could only agree. This time the gods did smile down upon her.
“I would be happy to help,” she beamed, and Aurora spent the rest of the day working beside Artemisia until it was well past dusk.
As the servants filed out, she remained behind with Artemisia, and the matron of the kitchen—Bretta.
The stocky, stoic white haired woman from the Celtic lands of Briton was a task master, almost as demanding as Cyrus. She did not smile, nor did she mince words. The other slave girls had scurried about the kitchen, fearful as frightened mice.
Aurora and Bretta had seemingly called a silent truce.
Aurora was not a simpering little girl, so easily frightened.
Bretta knew this, so she simply did not try.
That did not stop the woman from shouting at her, of course, and barking out a list of impossible commands.
With their tasks done, Aurora prepared to leave, taking note of where everything was positioned, and its proper place. When she returned l
ater, she would have to be quick for she would have little time and almost no light.
“The guards will be here shortly to return us to our quarters. Are you done?”
Aurora started to answer when a shadowed figure filled the entryway to the kitchen.
With a cold frown, she glared into dark, sinister eyes that raked her with pure malevolence.
“It would seem the prized champion, the mighty gladiatrix has fallen. How does it feel to be no better than the rest of us?”
Aurora took in Primus’ dirty and disheveled garments with a look of disdain. The right side of his face was slightly askew where she’d broken his jaw, but she noted, much to her displeasure, that it was barely noticeable.
“If I were you, Primus, I would not trouble myself with that knowledge, because no matter where Claudius puts me, I shall always be better than you.” Her pointed glare trailed the length of him very slowly this time, taking in his tattered appearance. “Where is it again that you now serve the House of Norbanus? Is it in the stables with the piles of horse dung or in the pen wallowing with the pigs?” He lunged for her, but she quickly raised a nearby bronze goblet and prepared to strike. “I would not do that if I were you, unless you wish for me to break your jaw yet again.”
His eyes swirled darker with rage. She did not know why Primus had always felt so strongly against her—even before she’d beaten him during training. She wagered his anger had little to do with her as a person, or even her position within the ludus. One thing Aurora knew well, besides pain, was the power of demons from the past. With Primus, it could simply be that she looked liked a woman who’d once wronged him, or maybe that she was from Carthage was the problem. It could be a number of things. Aurora would never know.
Petricles came to stand behind Primus, signaling to the former gladiator recruit that it was time for him to continue on. The slave did so reluctantly, his hard stare remaining on Aurora until Petricles was forced to escort him away.
“What was that about?” Artemisia asked when Primus was gone.
“Primus?”Aurora shrugged, her expression open, and her words light. “That was nothing. He is no one to me at all.” That much was true—Primus was nothing to her, as inconsequential as a stranger she did not know. She was not foolish enough to underestimate him, however. Primus was an enemy to be sure, one she would watch closely, but for now he did not pose a great threat to her, or her duty.
* * * *
It was not unusual for the guards assigned to the slave quarters to be more lenient with the slaves than the soldiers posted around the master’s villa, watching over the abode proper and its grounds.
Aurora had learned—for a few coins, if you were male, and sometimes a few favors if you were a woman—the guards would turn a blind eye to many things. Illicit affairs, a stash of foodstuffs secreted from the kitchen, an inordinate amount of time spent bathing—the slaves within Claudius’ home managed quite a lot under the ‘watchful’ eyes of the guards.
Of all the guards, Petricles had proven to be the kindest, the most indulgent. Yet he was not so kind or indulgent that he would let her out of her quarters without some compensation.
She pressed the silver denarius into his palm, one among several she’d earned upon her victory in the arena games. “I will only be but an hour visiting Cyrus. Thank you.” She smiled warmly, understanding that he’d been very reluctant to let her ‘visit’ with Cyrus again.
Petricles smiled, but his gaze barely saw her, for he seemed only to be aware of the young woman who stared back at him as if he was made of pure gold.
With a knowing grin, Aurora slipped quietly from her chambers, all the while, shaking her head. It all made sense. Petricles had always been quick to usher her from her quarters. Just as he’d always been courteous when she’d bathed, not once spying upon her naked. Her lips quirked higher. Artemisia and Petricles? She had missed that entirely. They certainly did well in hiding their attraction. Apparently, he did not favor men after all.
Aurora crept into the baths that were empty this late into the night, all thoughts of Petricles and Artemisia long gone from her mind as she focused solely on her present task. Yes, she’d told Petricles a lie. She was not visiting with Cyrus, nor would she this eve.
Aurora made her way over to the hidden entrance. She carefully pressed each stone in the proper sequence until the door scraped open, and as soon as she slipped inside the tunnel, she closed it shut. With hurried steps she trudged through the hidden passageway to the other end. She opened this door as easily as she had the other, using great caution as she left the secret tunnel, careful to be as quick and quiet as possible.
The triclinieum was empty, as she’d anticipated, given the late hour. With a firm thud, she closed the door, listening until there was a faint click. Satisfied that it was securely locked, Aurora crept quietly through the dining hall into the empty corridor, making her way toward the kitchen.
As was customary in such homes, the entryway to the kitchen did not have a door, so Aurora stepped inside.
It was an interior room, and there was no natural light. While the hearth opened up into a vent in the wall, it was not made in such a way to allow for light to enter the chambers. It took a few moments for Aurora’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did she set about gathering up a sack of apricots, some black cohosh—used as a spice in many of the dishes—and a few shiny red apples. The apples and apricots, she set aside for later. She would take those with her back to her quarters.
She would have to be careful to hide them from Artemisia, who was not only inquisitive but at times, quite judicious.
The cohosh had already been ground into a fine powder, and earlier, Aurora had noted where the wine was stored. It was a simple matter of dropping the precise pinch of the herb into the jars of wine, which would be served to the household over the next several days.
When she was done, she grabbed the sack of foodstuffs she would require later and left the kitchen. She returned to her quarters without incident, and Petricles let her inside, without noticing that one arm remained firmly behind her back. Artemisia was asleep when she entered, so Aurora was able to stash the items she’d returned with into a corner. She nestled the sack between her pallet and another tunica she rolled into a ball.
Aurora let out a relieved sigh as she stretched out atop her pallet and allowed herself to drift off to sleep. For once, Artemisia, nor Cyrus, nor Cornelia or any of the other obstacles determined to thwart her at every turn obstructed her from accomplishing her task. Her last thought as she stifled a yawn was, of course, there was always the next night and the one after that…
* * * *
Aurora remained within the kitchen for only a few days.
When Claudius’ ire with her passed, he allowed her to return to her training within the arena.
It was not an entirely charitable gesture. They’d been invited to the games in Falerii, and Aurora was to go—to “redeem herself.”
To redeem Claudius, it was more like.
Cyrus thought it was too soon for her to return to the arena, but Claudius remained stubborn about his position—if she did not fight then there was no place for Aurora within this ludus.
Cyrus had felt nothing but sympathy and compassion for her, that she would be forced to face the shades of her past so soon after her dubious performance within the arena of Capena. He still held such feelings toward Aurora, though fury now joined his cause.
At the first light of dusk he called an end to the day of training, impatient to get Aurora alone, and not for any of the more pleasurable reasons, although he thought of those constantly.
Maybe after he confronted her, listened to her lies, and decided what to do with her.
“Aurora,” he thundered, before she could leave the arena with Flavius and Legalus.
She stopped, looking up at him curiously.
As she closed the distance between them, he noticed there seemed to be an inordinate number of guards posted ar
ound the field this day.
For what purpose he did not know, but he could not have such a discussion with her before so many prying eyes and alert ears.
When she stopped before him, he speared her with a hard look.
“Later I will have Petricles send for you. We have an urgent matter to discuss.”
One eyebrow arched, and her eyes filled with a tempting combination of desire and amusement. “Urgent?”
Despite himself his body awakened, responding to the closeness of her, the fragrant, feminine scent of her essence that filled his lungs, making his breathing heavy with arousal.
Doing his best to tamp down the desire humming through him, he squelched a groan, saying firmly. “It is not what you think, and yes, it is urgent.”
Cyrus could tell she did not quite believe him, but she did not press him further as she turned to leave.
He watched her disappear from sight, and soon after he was summoned to meet with Claudius, who was requiring more frequent reports, as if his paranoia was growing more erratic by the moment. With each meeting, Cyrus gave him a different version of the same thing—nothing.
And like the times before, Cyrus would tell Claudius what he had been telling him for the past weeks—Aurora had done nothing particularly suspicious or untoward. But this time she had. Of course, he would not share this with Claudius until he had at least confronted her.
He would need to hear her out, and then he would make his decision, but first he would have to deal with Claudius.
* * * *
The door to Cyrus’ chambers closed behind Aurora with a resounding, almost ominous thud, as if it hinted at what was to come.
The distinct and familiar sound of the door locking shut did not follow. Cyrus was the honored champion of Capena, Claudius’ loyal servant—he was not locked in his quarters like the rest of them.
“This morning when I passed by Petricles, he remarked with a silly grin across his face, that he trusted I had a fine night with you.” Cyrus’ brows creased. “I was struck by that because I did not recall spending last eve with you. So tell me, Aurora, how was our eve together?”
