They do not love you.
Familiar panic welled in her chest and she tried to suppress it. The wallswereclosing in. She could feel it. Pressing tighter, squeezing the air from her lungs. Once, when she was a child, several village boys had rolled her into an old blanket and sat on it, laughing as she screamed and wriggled to get free. The same sort of terror threatened to overtake her now.
Adel set the plant aside and pressed her face to the bars of the window once more, gulping air and staring at the blackened sky.
This could not be happening again. She’d armored herself against being manipulated and betrayed. She’d fought her way to being the best gladiatrix, imagining, hoping,trustingthat gaining something by her own merit would bring the security and independence she’d craved. But how could it be just one more manipulation, one more betrayal?
Felix might be telling the truth about freeing the Gaul and rescuing Ilona, but the bars pressing solidly against her face told a truth of their own. One she had tried so hard to ignore and now could not. She was a prisoner. And there was no way out. No way home. She’d made herchoices over and again, each one separating her another step further from her family. Even if she wanted to crawl back to her atta, beg his forgiveness, the Ludus Gallicus would never let her leave. And now there would be mortal combat matches. Could she walk out onto the arena sand and take the life of her opponent to save her own? Could she sleep with blood on her hands? Live with the knowledge of it? The memory? And yet, the alternative was death, and she could not welcome that either.
She shifted, her hip bumping the table and rattling the object beside the seedling and lamp. Her hand dropped from the bars, fingers closing around the jar full of seeds. Her shoulders deflated with a shuddering breath. It was a fine jar, lidded and glazed in red. Not unlike the jars in the funerary hall. It had been a gift, though she couldn’t recall from whom. She’d been given many gifts and sold them all first chance she got. Had she been able to keep more than a fraction of the profits, she’d have been able to buy her freedom four times over. But the ludus did not give up its gladiators easily.
So this, this she had kept. It was worth nothing more than the smallest copper coin, at least by Jovan’s resale prices. She pried the lid free and tipped the contents of the jar into her palm. A crackling jumble of mottled seeds spilled out. Surreptitiously collected from gardens, from window boxes hanging in the street, from weeds that bloomed in the cracks of the portico and the sand at the edges of the training ring. She’d dropped them into the jar by singles and by dozens, telling herself that she’d plant them one day, when she had a room of her own. And she’d tried, but even a room of her own hadn’t felt like home enough to plant more than one tiny seedling. Perhaps she should have tried harder. Planted more. Yet deep down she knew why she hadn’t. No matter how many seeds she planted, no matter how deep the roots went, this place would never be home.
Her nose burned, signaling the rise of a lump in her throat. She struggled to swallow it back.
“I want to go home.”
Five cracked words could dredge up more pain than a trainer on a bad day, and she welcomed it. Let it roll over her and rush from her eyes. Because the truth was, she was a prisoner in the Ludus Gallicus, trying to convince herself she loved her life when all she truly wanted was her aipei’s arms wrapped around her, her atta’s presence large and secure. A place where she could breathe and feel safe.
The blanket flapped and movement in the courtyard below drew her attention. She leaned forward, pressing her face to the bars once more, the cold iron burning her skin. There it was again. A flash of white. The glow of a lantern. Her pulse began to pound.
Several men stepped into the open space between two portico columns, a linen-wrapped bundle swaying between them, glowing in the lantern light like a body-shaped beacon. Felix carried the lantern ahead of the body-bearers, the light casting him in gold. A wave of helplessness threatened to capsize Adel, hold her under. She could do nothing but watch as he led Ilona’s undead body to the gate. Was he one more manipulation? One more betrayal waiting to happen? Her heart went solid in her chest, banging painfully against her ribs.
“Let it not be so. For Ilona’s sake, let it not be so. God, go with her, before her, all around. Bring her home.” The words tumbled from her lips, the first true prayer she’d uttered in months.
She dumped the seeds back into the jar and corked the lid, pressing it against her chest like a poor shield. A blade of pain rammed through her anyway, bringing a wave of homesickness with it. She should dump the seeds into the waste pot in the corner. Let go of this painful hope. It was best if she accepted the truth. That she would never leave this place. That even if she did, her family would never welcome her home. And yet, she clung to the jar, and wept.
XXVI
13 DECEMBER, AD 403
Felix shuffled forward in the line of patrons waiting for their turn to be served. His mouth watered at the warm scents of herb-crusted meat and fresh flatbread drifting out of the open-front eatery ahead. Shifting the bundle of herbs and imported powders under his arm, he peered around the shoulder of the man in front of him, thankful for the errand that got him out of the ludus walls. Nearly a dozen hungry patrons to go. Under normal circumstances, he’d skip the wait and find somewhere less busy. Fewer patrons usually hinted at poorer fare, but food was food. He wasn’t picky. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance.
The giant man in front of him shifted slightly, shooting a glare of sunlight off his bald head and into Felix’s eyes. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Felix blinked, still standing slightly out of line. “How’s Ilona?”
“Well. One of the monks brought her to stay with his sister. Once she is well enough, we will make plans to deliver her home.”
“And you leave soon for Ravenna?”
“Today.”
“God go with you. Is there something you need?”
Telemachus lowered his voice. “I wanted to speak with you about Adelgard.”
Her name sent a hitch to his breath. Two men elbowed past them shoving bites of flatbread-wrapped meat into their mouths. Felix’s stomach rumbled. They shuffled forward in line.
“She doesn’t trust me. I told her about the Gaul, explained what Jovan demanded for Ilona and still, she fears I am manipulating her like everyone else.”
Telemachus wasn’t listening and hunched forward instead, shifting through a money pouch tied around his neck.
It wouldn’t be long before it was their turn to order. Felix should probably get his own money out but... “I suggested we take the little one, Berit, next, but she’s hesitating. I’ve done everything I can to convince her I’m a friend, that I’m telling the truth, but... it isn’t enough.”
“She might change her mind if you gave her this.” Still facing forward, Telemachus extended his hand back toward Felix, a flash of something gold resting on his fingers.
Felix took it and held it up discreetly. A ring of gold knotwork set with a large amber stone glinted in the light. A foreign piece, not in any Greek or Roman style he’d ever seen. It was beautiful. Confusion set his brow in similar knots. “What good will a ring do? If she won’t accept my help, she won’t accept a marriage proposal.” As soon as the words were out, he heard their stupidity. That was the thing about words. One never realized how ridiculous some were until they came out. Or until the giant man in front of you barked a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough. So Felix did the only thing he could do and laughed too. Because of course it was absurd to combine the wordsmarriage proposalandAdelin the same sentence.
