I also knew that I had to protect him. We had to be the final two standing, or we did not have a chance.
“Lilia!” I heard the whistle of the sword coming for my neck before I saw it. Christus’ shout warned me, and I leapt out of the way, whirling at the same time, my own blade out. With the strength of my arms behind it, my blade bit into the flesh of another’s abdomen easily. He looked at me, eyes wide, as blood began to pour from his throat.
Once I would have ignored the grief that washed over me as best as I could, knowing that it had had to be one of us. Christus, however, had woken feelings in me that I had not known existed, and with them came the realization that all of these men in the arena here—even Bavarius—were people who were about to die.
I closed my eyes as the man fell to his knees in front of me, his blood staining the sand crimson.
I had no choice if I wanted to live.
“Aah!” From the corner of my eye I saw another blade coming. It was wielded by a man whom I had met in the arena before, one who was twice my size. He charged toward me with unbelievable speed, his blade lifted to part my head from my body. I let him get close, then feinted to the side, whirling back around to slice through the flesh of his back.
Two down, and my lungs burned. There had been thirty of us in the arena to begin with. How were we to last?
Slicing my way through two more men, and swallowing the bile that rose as I did, I scanned the massive expanse of sand for Christus. The arena had been littered with items that I knew could not possibly be random—Gaius never did anything without a purpose. Still, the great cage, the wreck of a ship, the large clusters of trees—they made it hard to tell who was who, and how many still stood.
Retreating to the edge of the sand, I gulped greedily at the scorching hot air and tried to get my bearings.
Mere moments had passed since the gong had rung out, setting the people of the Empire into a frenzy, and yet by my quick count, nearly half of the gladiators already lay on the sand, some still and lifeless, and some bleeding beyond repair. My heart jumped, lodging in my throat, as I ran my eyes over every one.
I did not see the shock of inky hair that was now as familiar to me as my own hand, nor did I see the expanse of golden flesh that I knew so well. I could not see Christus, but I was certain that he still stood.
“Lilia . . . lovely Lilia . . .” There was a copse of trees directly to my right, and the sound came from within their verdant green. I had but a moment to wonder where Gaius had found such dense foliage in the heat of high summer before I spotted Bavarius, perched high in the branches of one. He grinned down at me, seemingly unconcerned about the goings-on beneath him.
“I am surprised you have the strength to climb, after the festivities last evening.” The smile slid from Bavarius’ face, as I had meant it to, and I felt a small stab of triumph. I knew firsthand how it felt to be taken against your will, and if it had been anyone but this man, I would have felt pity.
This same man, however, had taken me that way again and again. This, I decided, was the justice of the gods.
“You will die today, you worthless cunt.” His hissed words dripped with venom, and I felt some small stirring of pity for him in spite of myself.
“And you think you will be safe, hiding in a tree?” I shook my head, then turned away. When it came time, be it in a few minutes or a few hours, I would best Bavarius. Until then, I had to focus on keeping Christus and myself alive.
The game had been on for nearly an hour when I finally found Christus. A large gash through the flesh of his chest made me wince, and I wanted nothing more than to pull him from harm’s way and kiss it better.
I could not. Since the game had started, I had slain six men myself, and the look on Christus’ battered face told me that he was equally weary. An hour was not a long time for an entire set of games, but a game was usually comprised of many matches, many different fights between different men. I did know what Gaius had expected by placing so many of the most skilled gladiators together at once, telling them to fight for their lives. From the glimpses of his angry face up in his velvet-draped balcony, I gathered that it was going far faster than he had anticipated, and he was not pleased.
Grimly, I pulled satisfaction from the fact. The day could not end soon enough for my taste, whether it ended in my death or my victory. At least then I would know the fate of myself and my love.
“How do you fare?” With me there to watch over him for a moment, Christus paused to pant in and out, clutching a hand to his side. Once he had caught his breath, he looked up into my face, and I saw the thunder of the gods roll over his features.
“Who has dared to touch you?” It was not a question that required an answer—I was a gladiator. I fought, and he knew this. But his words were a way of expressing his rage that someone had laid their hands on me, and had marked my skin.