Page 72 of House of Serpents and Slaves
"I'll be there."
He turned to go, then paused. "Livia? Remember why you chose this. Hold onto that. It's what keeps us alive out there."
I watched him walk away, his words echoing in my head. Why I chose this. Not just survival, not just the chance at freedom. Something more. Something that burned in my gut when I thought of my parents' execution, of all the empire's casual cruelties. Something that made me feel alive in a way nothing else did.
I looked down at my calloused hands, still trembling slightly. Rena was gone. Others would follow. Maybe me, maybe tomorrow. But until then...
Until then, I would live. I would fight. I would love, even if in secret. And maybe, just maybe, I would find a way to make it all mean something more than just dying in the sand.
I straightened up, squaring my shoulders. The morning sun was higher now, burning away the shadows. Somewhere in theludus, Tarshi was healing, Octavia was working, Marcus and Septimus were training. All of them living their own stories, carrying their own fears.
We were all just trying to survive in our own ways. The best I could do was make my survival worth something. I wasn’t going to let fear defeat me now.
I took a deep breath and headed back to the training yard. I had work to do.
22
Iwatched her from across the dining hall, the way she sat slightly apart from the others, lost in thought as she absently pushed the remains of her meal around her bowl. She'd done well in training today - better than well. The old fire was coming back, bit by bit. But I could still see the shadows under her eyes, the weight of everything she carried.
The key felt heavy in my pocket, borrowed from Flavius during one of our regular games of dice. He'd always had a soft spot for me, the old guard, and hadn't asked too many questions whenI'd requested to borrow it for the evening. Just given me that knowing look and told me to have it back before morning watch.
I'd been planning this for days, sneaking up extra blankets, convincing one of the kitchen slaves to part with a couple of worn but serviceable cushions. It wasn't much - couldn't be much, given our circumstances - but I hoped it might be enough. Enough to show her there was still beauty in the world, still things worth fighting for beyond survival.
When she looked up, I caught her eye and tilted my head toward the door. The question in her expression turned to intrigue as I stood and quietly slipped out. A few moments later, I heard her light footsteps behind me.
"Marcus?" she whispered, falling into step beside me. "Where are we going?"
"Do you trust me?" I asked, turning to face her. The torchlight caught the copper highlights in her dark hair, making them dance like flame. She'd loosened it after training, and a few strands had escaped to frame her face.
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "You know I do."
"Then follow me." I led her through the quiet corridors of the ludus, past the training yard where we'd spent so many hours together, toward the tunnel that led to the arena. Her footsteps faltered slightly when she realized where we were headed, but she pressed on, her trust in me winning out over memory.
The arena was different in the dying light, more peaceful somehow. Our footsteps echoed off the stone as we crossed the sand, and I watched her face carefully for any sign of distress. But she seemed steady, focused more on where we were going than where we were.
When I pulled out the key and unlocked one of the gates leading to the public section, her eyes widened. "Marcus, this is outside the-"
"The slave boundaries, yes."
"We could run," she said softly, but there was more curiosity than conviction in her voice.
I grinned at her expression. "Don't get too excited. The outer doors are still locked tight.” I shook my head. “And go where? With no money, no papers, and the whole town knowing our faces? No, when we go, we need to go free, not running. I would never put you in that danger. You know what they do to runaway slaves.”
She paled a little. We all knew the stories. What could happen to us in the arena was nothing compared to what slaves masters did to slaves that ran. I slipped my arm around her shoulders.
“I’d never let that happen to you, my love,” I told her. “Now, come on. There’s something I wanted to show you.”
The endearment slipped out without thought, but she didn't seem to notice, too caught up in taking in our new surroundings as we climbed the stands. I'd chosen our path carefully, avoiding the sections that were starting to crumble with age. Finally, we reached the small platform I'd prepared at the very top.
"Marcus..." she breathed, taking in the blankets and cushions I'd arranged. But then her eyes caught the view beyond, and everything else was forgotten.
I watched her face as she took it all in - the sprawling town below us, coming alive with evening activity as the market wound down for the day. The streets were still full of people heading home or to taverns, living their free lives. Beyond the town walls, the desert stretched out endlessly, the dunes painted gold and crimson by the setting sun. In the distance, the red stone mountains rose up against the darkening sky, their peaks catching the last rays of sunlight.
She moved to the edge of the platform, drinking in every detail like a woman dying of thirst. The wind caught her hair, making it stream out behind her like a banner. My breath caught in mythroat at the sight of her silhouette against the sunset, wild and beautiful and so achingly alive.
"I haven't seen outside the ludus walls since..." she trailed off, overcome.
"I know." I moved to stand beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her but not quite touching. "I see you sometimes, watching the birds that fly over the training yard. The way you look at the sliver of sky we can see from the cells." I paused, gathering my courage. "I know you dream of freedom. I do too."
