But maybe this one’s different. She’s not watching me like I’m a curiosity in a glass case or entertainment for her afternoon. Hergaze is direct, assessing—not the kind that strips a man bare, but the kind that truly sees.
There is something in her face that is difficult to name. Not beautiful in a way that makes men stop mid-stride, but a face that sharpens the longer you look, until you realize you’ve been staring for quite a while. Intelligent eyes. A focused expression. The quiet intensity of someone who is always thinking more than she says. Cataloging details, yes—but with genuine curiosity, not condescension.
Suddenly, I’m aware of the sweat on my shoulders, the way I look gripping a sword. No woman’s gaze has made me self-conscious in a long time.
“Flavius,” Laura calls out, “I’d like you to meet Dr. Sophia Vitale from Palmyra University. She’ll be studying gladiatorial combat techniques with us this summer.”
How long does that mean? Long enough to either prove I’m more than entertainment, or… make a fool of myself.
“Dr. Vitale.” I keep my voice steady, professional. “Is great honor. You enjoy watching?”
She studies me for a moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling she’s seeing more than I usually let people see. “It was impressive. You clearly know your weapons. Though I noticed some techniques that were… adapted for your audience?”
Shit.She caught me showing off, the parts where I chose crowd-pleasing over how it really was. But instead of the usual academic condescension, there’s genuine curiosity in her voice.
“Yes! Is very smart you see this. In arena, yes, we make people laugh, make them cheer—but always we fight for life. Here is different because no one dies, so I can be… how you say… more big with the fun? Must be different, yes? People come to learn, but also to enjoy.”
I’m rambling, but something about her makes me want to explain instead of just turning it into a joke. She’s actually listening, not just waiting for her turn to correct me.
“How do you balance entertainment with historical facts?” she asks, leaning forward slightly.
The question catches me off guard. When’s the last time someone asked me something that didn’t have an obvious answer?
“Ah, is good question! In arena, every move has purpose—live or die. Here, I try to keep the… the spirit? The feeling? But make safe, make fun. Is like… like telling story that is true, but also good story.”
She nods, and I can practically see her mind working. “I’d love to hear more about that. The difference between combat techniques and performance art.”
Performance art.That’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it? Though in the arena, bad reviews meant death instead of just poor ticket sales.
“Yes! Is much to tell. Inludus—training school—we learn many things, but I think you want to know the real stories.”
Instead of bristling at my words, her eyes light up. “I’d like that very much. Though I should warn you, I ask a lot of questions. Probably too many.”
“Good! Romans love to argue. You bring questions, I bring answers. We see who wins.”
Her laugh transforms her whole face, makes her look less like a stern professor and more like… well, like someone I wouldn’t mind talking to. The sound is warm. It lands low and steady, the kind of laugh a man wants to hear again.
After Laura schedules our first formal session, Dr. Vitale politely refuses my invitation to dinner. There’s something different about this one. Something that makes me want to know more instead of putting up my guard.
“Earth to Flavius.” I’m standing alone, still pondering, when Thrax’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he speaks in Latin. “You planning to stand there all day staring after the scholar?”
I turn to find him grinning at me with the knowing expression of someone who’s seen this dance before. “Not staring… observing.”
“Uh-huh.” Cassius joins us, clearly having witnessed the entire interaction. “And what exactly were you observing?”
“That she asks real questions, not like a test, but like she really wants to know.” I gather the practice weapons, needing something to do with my hands. “Like she wants to learn, not prove I am stupid.”
“Like a test?” Thrax raises an eyebrow.
“Like they already know the answers and want to see if I get them wrong. This was different.”
It’s been more than a year since we woke in this century, and I still feel like I’m proving myself to everyone. Strong enough to impress, simple enough not to scare them. Dr. Vitale didn’t look at me like I was either of those things.
Cassius’s gaze sharpens. “Just be careful. Academics play their own games. We’ve seen that many times since we thawed.”
But as I head toward the armory to clean and store the demonstration weapons, I find myself thinking about her questions. Real questions, not the usual tourist curiosity about “what it felt like” to fight in the arena. She seemed genuinely interested in understanding the difference between survival and performance.
When was the last time someone wanted to know about the choices we had to make rather than just the spectacle we provided?
