Desire of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 3) Page 17

  The Titan had too much momentum to stop. The blade continued all the way through, carried forward by the Titan’s enormity. When it hit bone and wrenched from Conall’s hand, the Titan sank to a knee, crying out in pain.

  No time to waste. Conall rushed at the Titan returned the favor of the heavy slash down his torso—twice as deep as the one he’d had.

  The enormous man roared with rage. All that tissue did not die easy. Blood spilled out into the sand and Conall, operating purely on instinct, whipped his sword around again and cut his throat.

  There was a long, heavy silence in the air. The Titan landed in the sand, dead, with a heavy thump. Conall dropped to his knees after him, sword clattering down among the Titan’s heavy legs.

  For almost a minute, the crowd said nothing. They had witnessed apotheosis.

  And then the chants began.

  “Per-ti-nax! Per-ti-nax! Per-ti-nax!”

  Conall’s body begged for relief from the pain, to fall into unconsciousness. But he would not allow it. His eyes scanned the crowd, memorizing every detail.

  This was his moment and he would carry it forever.

  Chapter 54

  Leda watched, beneath an arch in the underbelly, as Conall walked off the arena sands on his own strength. He stayed on his feet all the way through the gate, a great crowd of gladiators awaiting him and cheering his name—his real name, not the stage one they gave him.

  And then her heart contorted sharply as he collapsed. Three gladiators caught him, quickly rushing him to the medicae’s table. Leda powered through heavy men, all their armor and muscles, to get at her man. The bodyguards helped clear the way.

  He was conscious on the table. Breathing. Smiling.

  Beast of a man. Insane man.

  The smile grew as he saw Leda.

  Nyx, ever ready during the games, circled the wound on his chest for a moment, feeling with her hands. She snapped her fingers to Chloe, calling for instruments and bandages.

  Doing her very best not to look at the gaping slash across his torso, Leda leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

  “You’ve done it,” she said. “I knew you could do it.”

  Conall laughed softly. “That makes two of us.”

  “One,” she said, grasping his hand tightly. “We are one.”

  Nyx cleared her throat. “Attentions are needed, Princess.”

  Backing away, Leda felt her heart ache as she watched Nyx prepare for her work.

  “It will be all right,” said Conall. “It will be fine.”

  Her hands stayed on his face, massaging and soothing. As Nyx began the grisly job of stitching him together, Conall—the insane man—began to tell her jokes. He was the one hurting, and he comforted her. Insanity.

  Leda wanted to do more for him.

  Chapter 55

  “We leave Rome today.” Publius spoke with the captain of his guard. “Cancel all celebrations. Make the arrangements.”

  She had found him in a small boarding house near the arena. It was specifically reserved for lanistas from out of town. Not many knew about it. Leda had been forced to use a number of bribes to search out the location herself. It helped that she knew it existed from her time working in the ludus.

  Conall was being attended by the finest medici and medicae in Rome. She had been assured of this several times by Nyx—but even so she paid for two others to look at him. There was no expense spared. The prognosis was good. The slash across his chest was the worst part, but other, lesser gladiators had survived the same sort of blow in the past.

  Inside, Publius stood at a table, a great many papers littered around him. There were coins—several stacks of coins—all around, but none of them seemed to hold his attention. In the corner was a half-broken amphora of wine. Publius was so preoccupied with packing up his items that he did not even notice Leda enter.

  “I’m surprised, lanista,” she said coolly. “I would have thought you would have wanted to wait to hear all of Rome sing your praises.”

  Publius turned, eyeing Leda up and down. “An improvement,” he said, glancing particularly at the silk-wrapped ribbon cinched tight at her waist. “Perhaps even appropriate. You’ve found yourself a nice tailor.”

  “Princess.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The proper term is Princess. That is how you shall refer to me, lanista. Princesses are above lanistas in the social ladder, you see, even if from another country. And social ladders are very important, lanista. They are how we know where we stand.”

  She did not bother to hide the glee it gave her to speak to him in this manner. Her smile was positively glowing.

  “I see.” He winced visibly. “Princess, then.” He dropped another stack of papers and bags into a small crate. “To answer your question, while much of Rome is very happy at the victory of Pertinax over the mighty Titan, a great many more will no doubt be very upset at the loss of their money. I’ve no desire to find out how upset.”

  “And you are not upset?”

  “How do you mean, Princess?”

  “You never thought he would win. Didn’t you bet against him?”

  Publius bristled. “He is my fighter. It’s unseemly to bet against your own man, Princess. And immoral. Although,” he admitted, “the bet was rather small, unfortunately. His fee from now on will make up for it, I’d wager.”

  With no hurry at all, Leda sat down on a small chair across the harried table. She examined her fingers, taking her time as she spoke. Publius’s growing exasperation pleased her a great deal.

  “That’s actually what I came to speak to you about. I’ve a fondness for your slave, as you recall.”

  “I do, Princess.”

  “I want him for my own.”

  Publius raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that’s possible. I would not normally do this, but given our history and yours, I can arrange a night with him for you at any time of your choosing, Princess.”

  “You misunderstand me, lanista.” Leda’s nose wrinkled slightly. “How about the rest of his nights?”

  “You wish to buy him? You want to buy the grandest gladiator in all of Rome?” He scoffed. “You would need a fortune, Princess. I could not do that to you.”

  “Lanista, you will do whatever I say so long as I have the price you ask. Now, how much for the grandest gladiator in Rome? I’ll save your ludus and make you a fortune as you stand in front of me.”

  A smile crept over Publius’s face. He sat down on the table with his legs pushing off slightly. Leda leaned forward.

  They began to negotiate.

  Epilogue

  They crossed the border into Illyria in the late afternoon. They had hired a guide who knew the area well and a company of bodyguards from the Starred Hunters (at a reasonable rate, thanks to Lucius and Gwenn’s friends and family discount).

  Leda rode next to Conall in the front of the wagon. She had herself wrapped in a small cloak and was bent over, cradling his lap. He was warm and strong, and there whenever he needed her. The air was cool, and fall was fast approaching. Later in the day, one of the guards said there would be a storm. If there was, they would stop and pitch up their tent, and they had a Gallic guard who would make them excellent camp dinners.

  Travel was not an easy life, but it was more pleasurable than she had expected. They had been at it for weeks and weeks now, but being at Conall’s side and him at hers made every day a pleasure.

  Their stay in Antioch, in the heart of Galatia, had been brief. The emissary there was glad to finally meet the woman who had been writing him “so many damned letters.” He was ready to give her brother up for a fraction of his asking price if it meant he no longer had to break open her scrolls. Apparently, a few had arrived during their travel time—which was Leda’s plan. Even on horseback all day long, she made time to write at night. When they came across a city, she would send messages ahead of herself.

  There had been no forewarning that she was on her way, nor any indication that the le
tters might stop someday soon. One must stay on the offensive.

  Taniel was in the wagon now, sleeping behind them. He had been underfed and underclothed, and suffered from a number of maladies. Conall was sure he would be all right, but Leda wanted to take him to a medici or medicae somewhere to make sure. There was no such thing as too sure when it came to the health of her brother.

  When he was well, no doubt he would demand to return to Antioch, enraged about some injustice there far beyond his own imprisonment. Leda did not care. She had made sure he was safe. If he wanted to toss himself back into danger—well. Certain men did that.

  Her brother was a complicated man, but Leda had found that was the only sort she liked.

  Whenever they found the time, she and Conall had decided to be married. Already she had committed herself to the idea. At nights, when she rode his perfect, hard body, she whispered “Husband. My husband,” in his ear.

  The visceral thrill he got from the words would shake up into her body, making her ache all the more for him. And he would call her “Wife. Lovely wife,” and she would know exactly what she had done to him—for she would shake too, in the same way as he.

  No assassins had repeated Vahram’s attempts. Leda wrote letters to Roman emissaries in every city informing them of the danger to her person. She expected that at least one would offer her sanctuary, realizing her political importance.

  There was no intention to return to Armenia. Someday, perhaps, she would see her sisters again. But for now it was too dangerous. Her parents had already sent one assassin after her—or, by inaction, allowed its occurrence.

  Already she had started a new letter writing campaign in her head to convince them the error of their ways, and another for her sisters—also to convince them of the error of their parents’ ways. There was strength in alliances.

  In the letters to her parents, she informed them politely that she had refused their “invitation” to return and had informed everyone in Rome that she could find of the nature of that invitation. Rumors already abounded about the wicked Armenian family that would stoop so low as to try and kill their eldest daughter. Women were not much valued in the world, but the killing of family carried a special weight to it in the minds of common folk.

  She and Conall would go somewhere far away. Somewhere deep in Rome, where no one knew who they were. Perhaps Gaul or the Iberian peninsula.

  Next to Taniel’s sleeping form was a large chest—one larger still than the one that Leda had given away to buy Conall from Publius. It was entirely full—so full, in fact, that the Starred Hunters had been tasked with carrying much of it on their horses just so the chest could close.

  They traveled with a fortune. Conall’s winnings in the arena had been vast—as had Leda’s winnings for betting on him. Any plot of land they might want was theirs for the taking.

  They could go anywhere, the two of them.

  She squeezed Conall tight, pushing her head hard against his abdomen. He squeezed her back, hand rubbing down the ridges of her spine.

  Anywhere at all.

  # # #

  Thank you!

  I’m so happy you’ve decided to read Desire of the Gladiator. Thank you for spending your time with my story.

  Your opinion matters. I welcome and encourage all reviews. Readers like you are the reason other readers find books they want to read! Please review this book on Amazon and on Goodreads to share your valuable thoughts.

  You’ve enjoyed book #1 in the Affairs of the Arena series. If you would like to read more tales about House Varinius and its inhabitants, check out Heart of the Gladiator (#1) and Love of the Gladiator (#2) today!

  Let’s get in touch! You can hop over to my website for musings on history and romance and for the latest news. To hear about what I’m up to and what all my author friends are doing, check out my Facebook and Twitter. And for the most premium information on new releases and discounts and to be the FIRST on the list for FREE Advance Review Copies, sign up for my newsletter!

  - Lydia Pax

  *

  Bibliography

  Author’s Note:

  Like any fictionalization of history, there’s a good deal here that’s probably not entirely accurate (though I did my best) because sometimes sacrifices have to be made to tell the right story. The stuff that IS accurate is due to the following works, all of which are excellent and well worth your time if you have any interest in history.

  Duncan, Mike. The History Of Rome. Podcast audio. Accessed 2014-2015.

  Hamilton, Edith. The Roman Way. New York: W. W. Norton & Company. 1932.

  Matthews, Rupert. The Age of the Gladiators: Savagery & Spectacle in Ancient Rome. China: Chartwell Books, Inc. 2003.

  Meijer, Fik. The Gladiators: History’s Most Deadly Sport. New York: St. Martin’s Griffen. 2003.

  Potter, David. The Emperors of Rome. Great Britain: Quercus. 2013.

  Did you love Desire of the Gladiator? Then you should read Heart of the Gladiator by Lydia Pax!

  His love was rough, but it could not be tamed… or denied.

  Aeliana hates gladiators. They’re crude, violent, arrogant, and will toss the skirts up of any available woman after a fight. It may be her job to treat their injuries, but she has no interest in being just another conquest.

  So, when the former gladiator champion Caius arrives in her life, she is stricken by how immediately she falls for him. He’s a merciless killer in the arena, not at all her type. But he’s also damnably handsome, built like a god, and turns Aeliana on like nothing she’s felt before.

  Being with a gladiator is always a bad idea. Even if they’re known the Empire over for the intensity of their bedchamber passions, they have a lifespan about as long as a sword. Aeliana’s convinced that there’s no way that someone who could have any woman in Rome would want to stay with her for long. But his affection, while rough, seems completely genuine. Caius’s return to the arena is shrouded in mystery, but the more Aeliana discovers, the more she falls in love. When his lifetime of violence catches up with them both, Aeliana must decide whether she can afford to bare her heart to a man so effortlessly dangerous. As it becomes obvious that their love shouldn’t be, Caius and Aeliana fight the odds like warriors in the arena.

  Aeliana’s strength will be tested again and again, along with their love. But it is her strength that will win the heart of a gladiator.

  Read more at Lydia Pax’s site.

  About the Author

  Lydia Pax is just a huge lover of romance and history. She lives in the American Midwest with her wonderful partner, her two rug-like dogs, and a cat with the temperament of a renaissance explorer. Writing novels full-time is her lifelong dream.

  Read more at Lydia Pax’s site.