Muffled noises reached her ear—the rustling of papers, a chair scraping against the floor. “Come in,” Kallias called.
Lea opened the door and stepped through. He was seated at his worktable, inscribing notes onto a scroll of papyrus, but he shot to his feet when he saw her. His reed pen clattered to the ground.
“Lea,” he gasped. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“I scaled a wall.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult.”
“You scaled…a wall,” he repeated, as if he didn’t understand the words.
She moved toward him. “I needed to see you.”
He bent to retrieve the fallen pen, then turned away to straighten the sheaf of papyrus on his table, not meeting her gaze. “I promised I’d visit you in a few days.”
“That would have been too long.” Now that the moment was here, all the things she wanted to say to him felt stuck inside her, like honey crystallized in a jar. Apologizing was not something she did often. What if she said the wrong thing and he refused to forgive her? What if she ruined whatever fragile thing was growing between them?
But she took a deep breath and straightened her spine, just like she did before stepping out into the arena. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”
He spent another moment rearranging his papers, then swiveled back to face her. “You told me you weren’t going to fight. Then I thought your manager had forced you, and I went and made that scene, only to find out it was all your doing.”
The way he quietly laid out her wrongdoing made shame creep over her. It became an effort to hold his gaze, but she forced herself to. “I knew you wouldn’t approve. I figured it would just cause an argument. Neither of us would change our minds.”
“It wasn’t about changing my mind,” Kallias snapped. “It was about your safety and wellbeing. Do you know how difficult it was to sit up there and watch you, fearing every moment I’d have to witness you get hurt? Or worse, be killed?”
She flinched. That was why she’d once wanted to keep her distance from him; she was all too familiar with the pain of losing someone to the arena. But somehow, it had become too late for that. “You know I don’t have a choice about fighting.”
“This time, you did.” He scowled at her. “Your manager said you insisted on it.Whywere you so determined to fight?”
“The games will be over soon. It was my last chance to compete. I’m trying to earn the money to buy my freedom.” She let out a weary sigh at the reminder of how much she still needed to amass. It might take years at this point.
He made a noise of acknowledgment. “How much do you need?”
“Lucullus wants forty thousand.”
He let out a low whistle. “You’re expensive.”
She grimaced. “Apparently, female gladiators are very valuable.”
“Perhaps you might be interested to know that I believe Gaius plans to declare an extension to the games.”
“Really?” That could only be a good thing. It meant more opportunities to fight, more chances to win.
Kallias leaned against the table behind him and nodded. “He’s going to formally announce Drusilla as his heir, and the games will honor her.”
“You could have told me that earlier,” Lea said. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have thought yesterday was my last chance to fight.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t lied to me and said you weren’t going to fight, I would have.”
She glanced away, chagrined. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you’d care that much.”
“How could you have thought that?” He reached out and cupped her cheek, his touch tender. “After what we shared?”
“I-I don’t know.” How utterly stupid she’d been.
“Well, I cared very much.” He stroked her cheek once more, then dropped his hand. “I have one question I want an honest answer to. Can you swear that?”
She met his gaze and nodded. “I swear.”
“Did you only wish to bed me because you were nervous about your fight?”
