Page 18 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“Working at a market stall in the merchant quarter. She’ll be overjoyed to see you.”
Livia sat back down, gesturing for me to join them. Not rejection, at least. Not yet. I took the seat opposite her, careful to keep my movements slow, non-threatening.
“Tell me everything,” she commanded. “From the beginning.”
So I did. I told her about the day of the attack — how I’d found Drusus, killed him, taken his gold. How I’d joined the defence of the city afterward, fighting rebels alongside the imperial troops because it was the only way to move freely through the chaos. How I’d found Octavia hiding in the women’s quarters, terrified but alive. How we’d made our way to Imperialis, certain that’s where Livia would head if revenge drove her.
“We’ve been here three weeks,” I finished. “Octavia selling fruit in the market, me working at a butcher shop. Listening, watching, hoping to hear something that would lead us to you.”
Throughout my story, I watched Livia’s face, trying to read what she was thinking. She’d always been good at hiding her emotions — a necessary skill in the ludus — but I’d once been able to read her better than anyone. Now I felt like I was looking at a stranger wearing a familiar face.
“The gold will be enough,” Tarshi said into the silence that followed my tale. “More than enough to establish Livia as a minor noble from the eastern provinces.”
“We’ll need documentation,” Septimus added, his hostility toward me undiminished but set aside in favour of planning. “Family crests, letters of introduction.”
“Those can be bought,” I said. “I know where to look. The gold will open those doors too.”
They began discussing logistics, the conversation flowing around me as they debated plans and possibilities. I contributed when I could, offering knowledge I’d gained during my search of the city. But my focus remained on Livia, who had gone quiet, watching us all with those inscrutable eyes.
Finally, she raised a hand, silencing the men mid-discussion. “Give us a moment,” she said to Septimus and Tarshi. “I need to speak with Marcus alone.”
Septimus looked ready to object, but Tarshi caught his arm, nodding once to Livia before leading them to the bar. I watched them go, then turned back to find Livia’s gaze fixed on me, all pretence stripped away.
“Why, Marcus?” she asked, her voice barely audible above the tavern’s noise. “Why didn’t you come with me when you had the chance?”
The question I’d dreaded most. The one I’d asked myself every night since she’d fled. “I was afraid,” I admitted. “Not of death or recapture. Of freedom.”
She frowned, not understanding.
“Ten years in the ludus,” I explained. “Ten years of knowing exactly what each day would bring — training, fighting, surviving. I knew who I was there. A gladiator. A trainer. A slave, yes, but one with a defined place. Outside those walls? I was nothing. No one.”
“You would have been free,” she said, but there was a new understanding in her eyes.
“Freedom terrified me more than death,” I confessed. “And then, after what Drusus did to you — what he made me watch — I thought I’d lost you anyway. That you’d never forgive me for not protecting you. For not being strong enough to stop him.”
Pain flashed across her face at the memory. “You were restrained. There was nothing you could have done.”
“I could have come with you when you escaped,” I said simply. “I could have chosen you over fear.”
We sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of the past heavy between us. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler than I deserved.
“I waited for you, you know. That night. I waited as long as I dared, hoping you’d appear.”
The knowledge was another wound, another regret to add to the mountain I already carried. “I’m sorry, Livia. More than I can ever say.”
She nodded, accepting the apology without absolving me. “And now? What do you want now?”
“To help you,” I said immediately. “Whatever path you choose. Even if it leads to the Emperor’s throat.”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Even knowing it’s likely a death sentence?”
“I died the moment I let you go without me,” I said. “Everything since has been borrowed time.”
She considered me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine for deception, for weakness. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because she reached across the table and took my hand. Her palm was calloused against mine, familiar and yet changed, like everything else about her.
“I can’t promise you anything, Marcus,” she said quietly. “Too much has happened. I’m not the same person who left the ludus.”
“I’m not asking for promises,” I replied. “Just a chance to fight beside you. To help you achieve your revenge.”
