Page 12 of House of Serpents and Slaves
"That's a good reason," I murmured.
He looked down at me and frowned.
"Why are you here, Livia? Did Drusus send you?"
I shook my head.
"Then why?" he asked softly.
My eyes fell to his lips as they formed the words. I had never noticed them before. The way they curved, larger than many of the other men. Softer, despite the harsh words they could utter. I wanted him to kiss me, I realised. I’d come to try and seduce him, to gain his favour before I begged him to train me in the arena, but to my surprise, I found myself actually wanting to go to his bed. I looked back up at him, his dark eyes intent on mine, and found myself telling him the truth.
“I want to train as a gladiator.”
Marcus's expression shifted, the softness in his eyes hardening into something unyielding. He let go of my hips and took a step back, breaking the contact between us. It felt like a wall had slammed down, and I had to fight the urge to reach for him again.
"No," he said simply, his voice rough but quiet.
The single syllable hit me like a blow to the chest.
"No?" I repeated, incredulous. “Just like that?”
"You wouldn't last a day in the arena, Livia," he said. His tone wasn't cruel, but it was firm, as though he were stating an immutable fact. "The sand is no place for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" My voice rose, frustration bubbling up. "What does that mean? Just because I'm not one of your hulking brutes doesn't mean I can't fight!"
Marcus sighed deeply, running a hand over his face.
"It has nothing to do with size. The arena isn't about strength alone—it’s about endurance. Survival. You think it’s about glory, but it's not. It’s about blood. Pain. Death. And I don't want to see you end up like the others who thought they could handle it."
His words stung, but I refused to back down.
"You don't know what I can handle. You know nothing about me—what I've been through, what I’m willing to do!"
"I know enough," he said, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "You're too young, too reckless, and too..." He hesitated, as though the word he wanted to use was caught in his throat. Finally, he sighed again, softer this time. "You're not ready for this life, Livia. And you shouldn't want it."
Anger flared in my chest, and I took a step toward him.
"I don't want it!" I snapped. "Ineedit. You think I don't know what the arena is? I've watched you, Marcus. I've seen the blood on the sand, the way men die screaming while the crowd cheers. I know what it is—and I still want to fight."
"Why?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Because I have nothing else," I said, my voice breaking despite my best efforts to hold it steady. "Because the people who took everything from me are out there, and I can’t just sit here clearing plates and watching others fight for their lives. Ineedto learn how to fight. I need to make them pay."
Marcus's jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But when he spoke, his voice was cold again.
"Revenge isn’t a reason to fight. It’s a reason to die."
I shook my head, desperate to make him understand. "You don’t get it—"
"Idoget it!" His voice rose, startling me into silence. He stepped forward, towering over me now, his presence like a storm cloud. "You think you're the first one to want vengeance?Do you know how many have walked into that arena with revenge in their hearts? Do you know how many of them are still alive?"
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I don’t care," I whispered.
"Well, I do," he said, his voice softening again. "I care, Livia. I care enough to tell you no. And if you hate me for it, so be it."
I clenched my fists at my sides, anger and despair warring within me. "You don’t understand," I said again, my voice trembling. "You’ve already had your chance to fight for what you believe in. You’ve already had your freedom, your honor. I’ve had nothing. And now you’re telling me I can’t even try?"
“You think fighting for the Empire is about honour? Freedom? That just shows your naivety, Livia. It’s just another form of slavery. Another way of killing and of dying. All you want is some way to take out your rage against those who did you wrong, and I get it, but the arena won’t give you that. Trust me.”
