Two soldiers came to the window and allowed us through the golden gate. Aristide barely seemed to tap the gas, and just like before, an off-road vehicle pulled in front of us. I turned my head and caught the second one tailing us.
Instead of going into the village, though, the off-road vehicles took a crude route, bouncing over dirt and rocks, trees on each side of us. I almost stopped blood flow in Nazzareno’s hand when the land opened and, in the middle, sat a…colosseum. It was a smaller version of the one in Rome.
If I wouldn’t have been all with it mentally, I would have questioned my sanity.
We’d entered another century. A much,mucholder one.
Men walked around in what resembled old Roman togas—some white and some red—and what looked like iron masks in the shape of a lion’s face. It seemed like there was a distinction between the soldiers and just men of the family, though.
I thought it might have something to do with the togas versus the capes with the decorations on the shoulders.
The men wearing the capes had chests that were covered in shields that resembled muscular chests but looked like they had been molded in an iron casting, even down to the lines under pectoral muscles. Over their hearts, a lion was embossed. They even wore those helmets with red plumes. I thought they were called galea. I’d read about them once.
One common thing that connected them all: every man wore a signet ring on his finger, and I spotted the Fausti tattoo peeking above the togas on chests, on arms and legs too.
A small stone place was next to the colosseum and had a line. Red wine was being poured out of a window—just a hand reaching out from a little arched opening. I thought those were called wine windows.
What I assumed was ancient-style Roman music played in the background of this scene.
The entire setup almost reminded me of one of those renaissance festivals, but even older and Roman-esq.
I looked down at my white dress—if it wasn’t for the modern make of it, I would have thought I’d gone mad, that was how authentic the old-world vibe was.
Outside of the window, I made sure the vehicle we were riding in had wheels. A few chariots were pulling up. The horses wore blinders and regalia with red plumes that matched the soldier’s helmets.
“Ava.”
I turned towards my husband’s voice. He was watching me. His eyes were wide, full of excitement, like the thrill of the challenge thundered through his veins. “Indescribable, ah?”
“Understatement of the freakin’ year.”
His smile came slow, and the car seemed to mimic it as we came to a stop. Two guards in masks and capes approached. Aristide and Beni stepped out to meet them.
Nazzareno turned to me. “Kiss me now,” he said.
“Why? What happens now?” Suddenly, I wanted to close my eyes and teleport back to modern day, where this was nothing but a reenactment for fun.
“Calm,” he said in a soothing voice. He took my face in his hands and kissed me. When he pulled away, my breath went with him.
If his stopped, I was sure mine would too.
“Now you will be led to a room where you will dress.”
“What about you?” My voice was as shaky as my hands, and I was so scared, my bowels were griping at me.
“I will be taken below where I will dress as well.”
“Then what?”
“The challenge begins.” His eyes seemed to narrow and light up at the same time.
“I’ll be there?” I wanted to be sure.
He nodded.
I refused to cry because I refused to foreshadow our story.
It almost felt like I was in shock, though, like I couldn’t believe this was happening in real life.
