“And would you come with me?”
The question hung in the air. Velia ground her teeth. “I’m not the one whose life is at stake.”
“I’m not going to run, Velia,” he said quietly. “There’s no honor in fleeing a fair fight. And this fight with Achilles—it will be well-matched, given the circumstances.” He brushed a hand over his bandaged leg. “Besides, if I fled, do you think the emperor would just give up? He’d blame Lucullus for my defection. He could take out his anger on your uncle, you, he could even disband the entire ludus if it pleased him. I won’t have you all suffer for my cowardice.”
Velia wanted to protest, but she couldn’t argue with his reasoning.
“This fight will happen,” Ferox continued. He heaved himself to his feet, coming toward her. Instinctually, Velia reached for him, wanting to steady him, and caught him by the arms.
His palms cupped her face. “It’s out of your hands now, Velia,” he murmured. “Please, if there’s one thing you can do for me, don’t distress yourself worrying. Don’t try to convince me or Achilles to throw the fight or flee or whatever else comes into your head. It’s in the hands of the gods now. There’s nothing more you can do.”
Anxiety and dread still tumbled in her stomach.It’s out of your hands. His words were meant to give her relief, but she felt only helplessness at the thought of what was to come. But for his sake, she could pretend to fulfill his request. She gave a shaky nod. “I understand.”
He kissed her on the forehead, and she released a long, heavy breath.
27
WhenVelialefttoobtain some breakfast for them both, Ferox kept pacing his room. His thigh ached, and he longed to return to the comfort of his bed, but after the news Velia brought, he forced himself to remain upright. He needed to get his strength back as quickly as possible.
Ferox had summoned all the detachment he could muster in front of Velia. He wouldn’t upset her more than she already was. It was best if she believed he could face this with complete equanimity. Treat it the same as any other fight.
He almost admired the emperor’s ingenuity in devising this retribution. Likely, the man thought Ferox and Achilles were much closer to friends than they were in reality. But even though Ferox found Achilles extremely irritating most of the time, he still felt a sense of ownership over the novice. Achilles’s wins and losses seemed to belong equally to Ferox, and if the novice were to die at Ferox’s hand…
Ferox wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself if he killed the man he’d spent countless hours shaping into a passable gladiator. And Velia might never forgive him, even if she knew he had no choice. Ferox meant what he said to her: he’d give this fight his all, come what may.
But that might be irrelevant if Achilles killed him first.
He had to turn his focus to regaining his strength. This would be his last fight ever, one way or another, and he wouldn’t shame himself or his memory by limping into the arena like a weakling.
He spent the next day walking laps around the training area. His pace was slow and shuffling at first, but with the aid of a few hearty meals, the strength he’d lost from the week of illness returned. Then he had only to contend with the pain and weakness in his left leg. He ignored the pain as best he could, even when it rose to an all-consuming ache by the end of each day, and stretched the muscle between bouts of training, hoping to restore some pliability to the injured flesh.
The day before the match, he sparred with Lea late in the afternoon. Her blunted sword jabbed him in the ribs, and he stumbled back a step. That strike would have been fatal in the arena.
“You win,” he conceded, breathing hard.
Lea tossed her sword to the ground. “Let’s have a drink.” She walked over to a bench on the perimeter of the training area and sat, reaching down for the jug of water and cups that rested on the ground nearby.
Ferox followed her, suppressing a hiss of relief as he took the weight off his injured leg. Lea poured them each a cup of water. He gulped his down with a murmur of thanks. Then, he retrieved the jug and poured the rest of its contents over his leg. Though the coolness only lasted a moment, it was still a blessed release from the burning pain. He would have killed for a trip to the frigidarium, the cold-plunge room at the baths, but he didn’t want to be seen limping through the streets before his final match.
On the other side of the training area, Achilles battered a punching bag, his back to them. Ferox mentally corrected his form, but forced himself to glance away. They seemed to have a tacit agreement not to speak to each other since the news. It was best that way. They were no longer trainer and novice, but opponents.
Unfortunately, they knew each other’s fighting styles better than any usual opponents would. Achilles’s left-handed maneuvers wouldn’t ruffle Ferox, but Achilles also knew Ferox’s own quirks and tricks. They would be all too well-matched, and if not for the emperor’s decree that the match be to the death, Ferox would have bet every sestertius he possessed on a draw.
His gaze shifted to Velia, standing near the entrance to the ludus. She was talking to the merchant who supplied the ludus with barley and flour. Tension gripped Ferox’s body, but he shoved the feeling aside. He knew this merchant to be peaceable and inoffensive. Not like the stranger who had attacked Velia.
Nevertheless, Ferox kept his eyes on her.
Lea must have followed the direction of his gaze. “This is all for her, isn’t it?” she murmured. “Yet I’ve barely seen you exchange two words in the past few days.”
“This isn’t her fault.” But Lea was right about the fact that he and Velia had only spoken out of necessity. They certainly hadn’t spent any nights together since he woke from his fever. He wanted desperately to go to her, to speak to her and soothe whatever worries he knew she had, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to approach, even though their time together was running out.
Maybe this was the least painful way for it to end—fizzling out in days of silence and avoidance.
“I didn’t mean I blame her for it,” Lea said. “Only that I wonder how you can defy the most powerful man in the world for someone and then, a week later, pretend she doesn’t exist.”
Ferox released a sigh. “I’m beginning to think dying may be the simplest outcome to all this.” He imbued the comment with dark sarcasm.
“Did she ask you to throw the fight? Did you argue?”
