“I’ll walk you there.”
“Not necessary,” Lea said. “It’s not my leg that’s injured.” To prove her point, she rose to her feet. Too fast, it turned out, for her head spun and black dots popped in her vision. She wobbled, her good arm flailing out.
Kallias’s arm slid around her waist, steadying her. Her breath caught, and a different sort of unsteadiness assailed her. It hadbeen a long time—nearly two years—since she’d felt a touch like this. Gentle, careful. These days, the only physical contact she felt was amid the violence of combat. Even her two good friends, Jason and Ferox, never touched her unless by accident. Which was how she preferred it most of the time.
The black spots cleared, and her eyes met Kallias’s. His were deep brown, with flecks of amber like the sparks that came off a fire. He looked at her with concern, but withdrew his arm as soon as she found her feet.
“I will see you back to your room,” he said in the same peremptory tone he’d used with Jason. “You need to rest. And I don’t trust you to do that unless I see you there myself.”
She glared at him, but exhaustion was already setting in, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. “Fine. It’s this way.” She turned toward the exit, and he followed.
2
KalliasallowedPenthesileatolead him back to her ludus in silence. He assessed her as they walked the short distance. She seemed steady on her feet, except for the brief wobble when she’d stood up too fast, but she moved with a heaviness that spoke of fatigue. The quick, brutal grace she’d exhibited in the arena had disappeared.
While fighting, she’d seemed as tall and powerful as her Amazon queen namesake. He’d been surprised to discover that up close, she didn’t tower over them all. She was of average height for a woman, a handspan shorter than himself. And she’d behaved with such diffidence, such uncertainty in front of Gaius and Drusilla—head bowed, eyes down, a far cry from the fierce warrior who’d taken a stab wound without flinching and even managed to defeat her unwounded opponent.
Up close, he’d also noticed her beauty. Her features had a delicacy that seemed at odds with her brutal profession. Her eyes glowed a dark hazel, greens and browns mixing like an autumn forest. A coil of dark hair was secured at the back of her head, probably sewn in place, but a few strands had slipped loose in her fight. They fluttered around her face, framing it like the inky strokes of a pen.
She reminded him of an oleander flower: beautiful to look at, deadly if one got too close.
He couldn’t help but be curious about her; only a handful of female gladiators graced the arena, and he’d always wondered how they ended up in that life.“I like fighting,”she’d said to Gaius. Was that true?
They reached the ludus, a walled cluster of buildings. A guard at the gate stood aside when he saw Penthesilea and let them pass with a curious glance at Kallias.
Penthesilea trudged toward a low, long building. Inside stretched a narrow corridor lined with doors—the barracks where the gladiators slept. It was quiet; most of its inhabitants must have been at the games.
She paused before one door. “This is my room.”
He nodded. “Make sure you rest. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
She stopped him with a raised hand as he turned to leave. “Since you’re here—can I borrow your shears? I need to get this off me.” She lifted a hand to the neckline of her knee-length tunic and plucked at something within. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but a strip of fabric peeked out above the opening of her tunic, which appeared to be wrapped tight around her chest.
He realized she must bind her breasts before fighting, and the fabric was likely sewn in place. No wonder she wanted to get out of it—it looked damned uncomfortable. “Of course.” He rifled in his satchel and came up with the pair of tiny shears he’d used to cut the silk thread earlier.
Lea took them with a murmur of thanks and stepped inside her room. She nudged the door with her elbow, but it didn’t close allthe way, leaving a small gap through which he could see her slide the shears inside her tunic. After a few snips, she pulled out a long length of cloth with a grateful sigh.
Fullness swelled beneath the fabric of her tunic. Warmth flooded his cheeks. He should look away—that would be the polite thing to do—but he couldn’t stop staring at the unexpected shapeliness revealed by the removed bindings.How in Hades did she manage to strap those things down?
Finally, he tore his gaze away, focusing instead on the battered wood of the doorframe in front of him.
For Kallias, breasts were not a requirement for attraction. He was equally drawn to men and women, and had known pleasure with a variety of lovers. But the sudden appearance of Penthesilea’s breasts, even covered by her tunic, made a prickly heat creep over his skin.
Perhaps it had just been too long since he’d lain with anyone. He hadn’t pursued any trysts since gaining his freedom several months ago. It was a simple thing for one slave to lie with another, but now that he was a freedman, things seemed more complicated. His new status, not to mention his closeness to the emperor, meant that a potential partner might feel like they couldn’t say no.
He remembered all too well what it was like to bite back a refusal, to force himself to go along with something he didn’t want. So it was safer to keep his distance from those he worked with at the palace.
“Here.” The door swung open fully, and Penthesilea handed back his shears.
He took them, trying his best not to look at her, and stowed them in his bag. “Drink plenty of water and eat a good meal. Don’t use that arm. I’ll return tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to come back. Our physician can see to it.”
Kallias shook his head. “The emperor ordered me to see to your wound. That means the entire process of healing.”
She let out a defeated sigh, perhaps too wearied to argue. “Fine. Tomorrow.” Then she closed the door in his face.
Kallias left the ludus and ambled through the streets toward the imperial palace. It was rare for him to be outside the palace, and he savored the freedom.
