Page 13 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

I stand with effort, muscles protesting. At the door, I cast one last look toward the exam room.

This isn’t right. Something needs to change.

Chapter Eleven

Diana

Cassius makes his last lap around the corral. Equine therapy was the perfect choice for him. He probably walks a quarter mile every lesson leading Atlas or Buddy, but he’s having so much fun he doesn’t realize it’s building his stamina.

“Great job today. You’ve made incredible progress. Tomorrow, we can get you up on the horse.”

His eyes light up, a real smile breaking through. “Really? Does this mean I’ll be barrel racing like I saw you doing the other day?”

I crack up laughing. The image of Cassius zooming around barrels is ridiculous. “Oh, sure. You’ll be winning rodeos in no time.”

He laughs with me, and for a second all that weight he carries seems to lift. I wish I heard that sound more often.

As we put away the tack, he turns to me with a puzzled look. “You know, you’ve been living here for over a week, but I haven’t seen you in the dining hall. Don’t tell me you’ve been eating alone in that tiny cabin.”

Heat creeps up my neck. Truth is, the thought of eating with a bunch of ancient warriors scares me more than I want to admit. “Well, I… I didn’t want to intrude.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Intrude? On what—our fascinating conversations about the weather and how many push-ups Thrax can do?” He shakes his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Come. Join us for dinner tonight. Meet your neighbors.”

I hesitate, picturing myself surrounded by towering, muscle-bound men. But the hopeful look in his eyes breaks my resolve. “Alright.”

Later, as I walk into the dining hall, my heart pounds so loud I wonder if everyone can hear it. The room goes quiet for a moment as heads turn my way. I spot Cassius at the end of a long table. Thrax and his girlfriend, Skye, who I’ve already met, are sitting nearby.

Cassius waves me over, and I slip on my “no-fear” face—the one I perfected in juvie to avoid being a target. No one needs to know my insides are quaking.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Thrax booms, his voice friendly despite its volume.

Skye rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Ignore him, Diana. We’re glad you’re here.” She pats the empty seat beside her, and I sink into it gratefully.

As we eat, my body relaxes from high alert. After I’m introduced to several of the men nearby, the conversation flows easily, broken up by bursts of laughter and friendly teasing. These men might look intimidating, but they’re just… guys. They joke, argue, tell stories. It’s almost like being back in school, surrounded by rowdy friends.

My gaze keeps drifting to Cassius across the table. He seems more relaxed here than during our sessions, but there’s still a distance between him and the others. Some invisible wall I can’t quite figure out.

The conversation lulls, and a question that’s been bugging me slips out. “Do any of you know how Cassius hurt his head?” Everyone’s eyes skitter away from mine and the atmosphere shifts.

Crap! You’d think I never heard of HIPAA. Talk about a rookie move. Before I can shift the conversation, Rurik, a huge redhead, clears his throat. “Aye, we know the tale. We all saw it. At the docks in Ostia, right before we boarded theFortuna.”

The men trade glances, some glaring toward the other end of the table. Before I can figure out who they’re looking at, Quintus, who looks like the oldest one here, picks up the story. “Therewas this priestess, offering blessings for the journey. Ourludusmaster, Sulla, bought us all a round of her special brew. ‘For our safety’, she said.”

“Foul stuff,” Flavius cuts in, nose wrinkling at the memory.

Rurik continues, “Then they brought in this new slave. Feisty bastard. His handlers pushed him toward us, told us his name, and left. From that first moment, he wouldn’t do what he was told.”

I lean forward, engrossed in the tale. “What happened?”

“By his looks, he was clearly a slave, a gladiator, but he didn’t act like one. Needed everything told to him twice. The two who brought him to the docks had to threaten him to get him out of the cart. First thing he did was call Sulla animumatorand acatamite.”

Even with my limited knowledge of ancient Rome, calling your slave master an asshole and a homosexual couldn’t have been smart. I glance at Cassius, but his face stays blank. It must be weird hearing about your own history when you can’t remember it.

“Sulla was in a generous mood.” Rurik goes on. “He wasn’t the type to buy us drinks. Maybe it was because he worshipped the Goddess Fortuna and this was one of her priestesses.”

“Get on with it,” Quintus gripes.

“Fuck you!” Rurik snaps back. Most of these guys know very little English, but they all picked up that phrase quickly enough.

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