They protested vehemently, but she was adamant, and the girls both left with a frown upon their faces when they were finished.
Such foolishness. Gold and perfume. She snorted. And oil upon her body? She would be fortunate if she did not slip upon the tiles and injure herself.
Such frivolities for what was not even a
real
match was ludicrous. Claudius had informed them that this was to be
solely
for exhibition purposes. They could draw blood if they wished, but only the most shallow of wounds upon the shoulder or the arm. They’d been warned accordingly—if either of them were seriously injured, the offending party
would
be punished harshly. She and Cyrus were expensive property, Claudius could not afford for them to sustain any undue damage.
Aurora looked up when the young woman who’d led her into the chambers returned.
“It is time.”
A curious fluttering started within her belly, until every part of her trembled with mostly anticipation, but also a measure of trepidation. She’d fought nude once before in a spectacle such as this, but her opponent had been another
gladiatrix.
She’d taunted Cyrus yestereve, but she wondered if she would manage to keep her head about her throughout their match. She worried she would not be able to focus with him before her, his body as oiled as hers, the corded display of his muscles flexing and bunching beneath burnished golden skin. A shudder raced through her, one part anticipation, other parts desire as she imagined the perfection of his chiseled form pressed against hers, locked in battle.
She stepped into the hall, expecting to find Cyrus waiting there as well, but the hall was empty. She could not see into the room where he’d disappeared earlier, but the absence of sound told her it was vacant as well.
The girl led her through another corridor, but not the one she’d passed through before.
“Wait here,” the young woman said when they came to a stop within the
atrium.
“I will see if they are now ready for you.”
Aurora did not say a word as the girl vanished. It seemed like forever before she returned, and Aurora glanced up, already moving forward, ready for this entire gratuitous display to be over. However, Aurora did not manage a step when a shadow passed over her, and she realized it was not that of the young slave.
Aurora was hidden within one corner of the
atrium
, obscured from plain view, the light from the lamps dancing all around her but never touching her. She could see into the space, but none could see her, just as none could hear her for she kept her breathing faint. Thus, Cornelia easily passed by without taking notice of the figure within the corner.
Aurora thought it odd that Cornelia would miss the grand spectacle her husband had planned and wondered what could possibly be of such importance to take her away from the festivities.
Acting on instinct, she followed after Cornelia. It was relatively easy. On bare feet, her footsteps were silent. The complexion of her skin, darkened by the oil, allowed her to cloak herself within the shadows. And whatever made Cornelia take every corner with purpose, her steps hurried, kept Claudius’ wife so enthralled she did not seem to notice she was being followed.
It was as if the woman were searching for something. When she came to an abrupt halt before a large fountain within the arched colonnade, Aurora realized Cornelia had found it.
Balbus towered over Cornelia before he leaned in to embrace her, his lips finding those of Claudius’ wife.
Affairs were common among the nobility, so that Cornelia had found herself in another’s bed neither shocked nor surprised Aurora. What did, however, was that Cornelia would exhibit such intense jealousies regarding her husband, when it was obvious—if the passionate kiss she’d shared with Balbus was any evidence—that her attentions were otherwise occupied.
When the couple finally pulled apart and began quietly speaking amongst themselves, Aurora prepared to leave. She did not wish the slave girl to go in search of her.
But the emergence of a small vial within Cornelia’s hand stilled Aurora. She stood there, her heart racing furiously at this turn of events.
She could not make out their words, but she understood enough especially when Cornelia handed the vial to Balbus.
She turned to leave as quickly and quietly as possible, but froze when Cornelia and Balbus moved to do the same. The couple parted ways, going in the directions from which they came. Aurora huddled deeper within the corner behind a marble column, holding her breath, not making a single sound as Cornelia passed by her again without taking notice.
When Cornelia turned the corner, Aurora relaxed—
almost.
She had to hurry, the servant was sure to be searching for her now.
Peeking out from the corner, Aurora prepared to depart once again. This time what she saw elicited dual emotions within her.
Cyrus stood on the other side of the colonnade, the fountain partly obstructing her view of him. But while she could not see fully, she knew he was as naked as she. He was waiting on the other end of the villa to be led into the dining hall for their match.
He stilled, his gaze landing upon her, and Aurora wondered if her eyes swirled dark then light as his did. If the intense pull of attraction arcing between them, even from across the vast distance, was revealed so openly in her gaze as it was in his.
She could not be certain. What she
was
certain of was they’d both seen what had just transpired. Aurora knew what she would do with such knowledge, and with a sense of frustration, she knew what Cyrus would do as well.
She longed to convince him to forsake his honor just this once. With her eyes, she begged it of him. The deep frown set within his face told her he would not. She spun away from him, her lips pursed into a tight line.
Aurora cursed him as she made her way back to the spot where the girl had left her. This could all be over if he just remained quiet, and they would be better off for it—her, Cornelia, Balbus, Cyrus as well. It did not matter to him. He would do what was right—his principles would demand it of him.
“Where have you been?” The young slave demanded as soon as Aurora returned. “I have been looking for you everywhere. Your
dominus
is set to present you at any moment.”
“I am sorry. I waited here for some time. I thought you forgot about me so I went in search of the entrance to the
triclinieum
. I must have gotten turned around.”
The girl looked at her with suspicion in her narrowed eyes. It would not do to have one of Balbus’ slaves bearing witness to her brief disappearance, especially if anything happened to Claudius, so for this young girl’s sake, Aurora hoped she remained quiet if she was later questioned.
“Here, we must hurry.”
She ushered Aurora down the hall into a short darkened corridor supported by marble columns. From where she stood in the corner she could hear the hushed voices of the guests, and Aurora realized she was in some sort of narrowed alcove that opened up into the dining room.
She barely listened to Claudius’ voice droning on with great flourish. She all but ignored the sound until she heard Cyrus’ name, followed by hers.
A nod from the slave girl told her it was time and she stepped from the shadows into the expansive hall.
Couches lined the walls, where guests reclined, while the less esteemed, stood off to the sides. Aurora’s gaze lit upon the opulent spectacle, seeing it all, but not truly. She truly saw only Cyrus standing before her, his eyes boring into her, penetrating her.
Aurora barely heard the cacophony of murmurs all around them, the flurry of applause. The blood rushing through her veins, thundering in her ears—those were the sounds she heard, and nothing else.
As Claudius commenced with the presentation, she was handed a beautifully crafted
gladius
forged from iron. Cyrus held an identical weapon within his hand, the metal blade reflecting the light flickering from the lamps.
All of a sudden, Aurora was struck by the absence of sound. Claudius had taken his position upon one of the nearby couches with Cornelia to his right and Balbus on the other side of her.
The room was eerily silent, while the guests within watched and waited, their breaths seeming to have paused in anticipation of what was to come.
What came next was Cyrus’ attack, his blade raised high, ready to strike. She raised her sword at the last moment, deflecting his blow. Like a dancer tracing intricate steps in time to the beat of music, they moved together, as if in unison, their bodies writhing, twisting.
It was a dance, the rhythm fluid, yet silent.
Their bodies nude, covered in nothing but oil, it was an erotic dance, as sensual and intimate as the act of lovemaking.
The only sounds to be heard was the piercing grating of metal upon metal, the ragged breathing of the fighters wielding their blades, and the murmurs from the crowd.
As she’d done the first time she’d faced Cyrus, she battled him with the respect of a warrior—carefully, cautiously, even as she did not show him mercy. Her strikes were as ferocious as ever, her movements precise and efficient.
She faced him with the intensity of a gladiator.
And just like before, neither one yielded, neither one made a mistake. Aurora was not certain if their match was still an exhibition or if at some point it had become real to them both, because soon they were covered with crystal beads of sweat.
Aurora’s chest heaved, her lungs burned, her muscles ached. She would not yield.
Cyrus’ movements slowed, his breathing was erratic, his lips parted in exertion. He would not yield either.
She smiled. “You can always give up,” she whispered when their blades locked together and they drew in close.
“After you,” he replied courteously, his eyes flashing.
“But I am not tired.” She pushed away from him. “I only suggested that because you appear exhausted.”
“Do I?” Her teeth rattled when he delivered a sweeping blow, and she raised her blade to meet it, the shock vibrating through every part of her. “I do not feel exhausted at all.”
“Liar.” She smirked, but she did not expend any further energy on continuing their discussion. It was all she could do to focus on not losing this bout against him when every muscle in her body screamed with weariness.
When Claudius abruptly stood and called an end to the match, Aurora wanted to sink to the floor and curl up right there before all.
“I declare it a draw.” Claudius beamed proudly, having to shout above the applause.
Aurora nodded when Claudius heaped praises upon them both. She had done her part. She had stood against the champion of Capena and proven herself worthy. That Cyrus had not defeated her would be considered a minor slight against his reputation, but once word spread of her valiant battle against Cyrus, many would fill the arena to see her first match
and
Cyrus redeem himself before the crowds. She knew well that had been Claudius’ intent all along. That he could honor Balbus’ return had simply been for pretense.
A small slave boy entered the hall holding a tray with two cups of wine upon it and Balbus stood to take them. Raising one in the air, he offered the other to Claudius.
“We raise our cups to Governor Claudius Cicero Norbanus,” Balbus began. “Keeper of the finest gladiators in all of Rome.”
The room erupted with revelry, some raising their cups, others still applauding. But the two gladiators at the center of the room did not join in the celebrations.
Cyrus’ entire body radiated with barely leashed tension. It poured from him so strongly Aurora could feel it coursing through her entire being.
He moved toward Claudius, but she stilled him with her hand against his arm.
He looked at her sharply, but before he could protest, she spoke.
“Think about what you are about to do,” she rasped quietly. “Cornelia and Balbus will know that you have seen their treachery, and you will become their target as well. Your life is not worth enough to either of them.
“And Claudius cannot protect you,” she continued, glimpsing his determined expression. “Not from the both of them. Not when he cannot even protect himself.” She curled her hand tighter around his forearm. “Let it be.”
He shook his arm free. “No.”
“Cyrus!” She whispered louder this time, but he ignored her as he headed for Claudius.
Aurora looked between Cyrus and Cornelia, her gaze remaining fixed upon the latter. Cornelia sat up straighter, as Cyrus neared Claudius. Aurora followed after him, but her attention remained riveted on Cornelia.
She’d never imagined the governor’s wife would be her ally in
anything,
but in the murder of Claudius Norbanus, she was.
Aurora conveyed with desperation in her eyes—
I know what you are about and if you do not wish to fail, stop Cyrus now.
It was already too late. Cyrus was now too close, and Cornelia too far away.
Aurora wasn’t, but what she decided to do was so at odds with what she wished, she almost cringed. Cornelia and Balbus’ plot was well on its way to being foiled. Her only option was to take advantage of the situation.