“I did not spend your winnings, Lilia. I spent my own.” The look that he cast my way was comically sorrowful and not a little bit reproachful. “You know I would not be so free with your coin. I am fully aware of your opinion of our brothers.”
I did not contradict Darius, though he knew full well that I did not consider myself a part of the brotherhood.
“Why would you spend your own coin, then, when your opinion is not far from my own?” It irked me to see the fools with bellies full of wine and figs. True, some were better than others, but still, those same men had failed to come to my aid when I had needed it the most.
Now I needed aid from no one, and would not offer boons to those who had wronged me in the past.
As he looked down from his impressive height, Darius’ face showed the same hint of exasperation that it had when we had first met, so many years earlier—the face that told me he saw straight through my bravado and bad temper.
He was the only person in the world who was allowed to look a little bit deeper. Had anyone else tried, I would have struck him in the face for his trouble . . . not that many cared to.
I was still unnerved that Christus had. His attitude toward me had left an impression, and I found myself craning my neck, searching for him among the men, for he had said that he was now a part of this ludus.
I found that I did not like the idea of him twined around a whore. I was angry with myself for caring.
“While otherwise occupied with whores who offer freely, Bavarius and his friends will give you peace, which you sorely need after such a physically exhausting day.” Though I would never—could never—let them fall in front of others, I felt the salt of unexpected tears sting the backs of my eyes.
Darius spoke the truth, and saw what no one else would—that I was well and truly exhausted after the arena that day. I meant to stay on alert, for after Bavarius’ unexpected show of aggression and the fool Christus’ inept intervention, I felt certain that the former would come searching for me sooner rather than later, intent on teaching me a lesson.
The man did not play fair. He would bring friends to hold me down while he had his way. I was a better fighter than any of them, but the fact remained that I was smaller and, if caught by surprise, would be at a massive disadvantage. Fatigue would only add to the weakness.
By providing these festivities, my only friend had given me the most precious of gifts—rest. I was grateful.
“You, and you alone, are my brother.” I held my hand out, palm facing him, a sign of respect in our ludus. Darius nodded gruffly, then gestured toward the exit of the dining hall with a jerk of his head. “Now go. Sleep. Do not waste my coin.”
“And what of your entertainment for the evening?” There were male whores among the females, though not nearly as plentiful, and I saw none that seemed to be in Darius’ taste. He shrugged, and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“There were none that I cared for.” I did not care for the pang of emotion that ran through me when I heard the blatant lie, even though it was directed at my friend. Emotions, apart from anger, were a weakness that I could not afford.
What else was I to feel but gratitude to have such a friend, one who would give up celebration of his own victory to stay alert, watching over me?
“Gratitude.” I would not say more, for it would only embarrass us both. Instead I made my way down the long corridor of the gladiators’ living space, my feet in their thin leather padding softly along the dust that covered the floor. As the top ranked in the ludus, I had my own quarters, a room that was small but had the luxury of being mine alone.
It also had a solid wooden door, something gifted to a past champion and a feature for which I was very grateful that night. Though there was no lock on the door, the sound of the thing opening would be enough noise to wake me, to alert me to an intruder, while the soft shush of a curtain moving—a curtain such as those that covered the other cells—might not.
I also had a small basin that one of the girls from upstairs filled with fresh water every day. I might have been a slave myself, but being a winner who brought coin to the house came with some privilege.
The thought had my lips curving up in a bitter facsimile of a smile. I only had to sell my soul to obtain such luxuries.
Closing the door behind me, I peeled off the garments that I had worn in the arena earlier that day. Caked as they were—as I was—with blood, sweat, and dirt, I longed to soak in one of the mineral tubs that we were encouraged to use to soften our muscles. I had no desire to be seen by Bavarius, however, for I knew that it would only incite drunken idiocy on his part.