I felt a surge of anger, and before I could think, I lunged at him, my sword aimed at his chest. Cato easily dodged, and I stumbled past him, off-balance. He took advantage of my mistake, hitting me hard on the back with the flat of his sword.
I fell to my knees under the weight of the blow, gasping for breath and the gladiators laughed. My hand tightened around my sword grip, and I pushed myself up. Before I could get up, I felt the flat of Cato's blade hit me across the stomach, sending me backwards, flat on my back, my head slamming back against the hard packed sand.
My vision blurred, but my anger rose. He wasn't even fighting me properly, he was just trying to humiliate me. There was a blur as his sword came down, but I rolled to the side and scrambled to my feet. I managed two more blocks, before his blade came down on my arm, sending a sharp pain down it, the blade tumbling useless from my fingers. Cato stepped forward, reaching behind me to grab a handful of my hair. He yanked my head back painfully, bending me backwards, and ran the tip of his blade up from my belly to my ribcage. If he'd been holding a real blade, he would have slid it home through the soft parts, up underneath my ribs to pierce my organs. Instead he held me in place.
Cato leaned in close, but everyone around us could hear his words.
"You are not worthy to walk these sands. You are not worthy to hold even a wooden blade."
I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the pain that spread throughout my body. Cato's hold on my hair was tight, but I refused to let him see me break. I glared up at him, meeting his gaze with a fiery determination.
"You're wrong," I said through gritted teeth. "I am worthy."
He shook his head, and without warning, Cato released me, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on my hands and knees. I heard the gladiators laughing again, but I ignored them. A foot connected hard with my ass and I fell forward onto the sand.
"Get out of my sight," hissed Cato. "And stop wasting my time, before I show you what you are good for in front of everyone. Go."
I scrambled to my feet, my face burning from the humiliation, and without another word, I went.
7
The sun had barely risen over the arena walls when I heard the clash of wood against wood. I knew without looking who it would be - Livia, always pushing herself, always trying to prove something. Just like her brother had. The thought of Tarus sent the familiar ache through my chest, the weight of my promise heavy even after all these years.
I could still see him clearly in my mind - barely sixteen, blood streaming from the wound in his side, his fingers gripping my tunic as he pulled me close. "Keep her safe," he'd gasped, his eyes already growing dim. "Promise me, Septimus. Promise meyou'll protect her." Those were his last words, spoken with his final breath, and they'd haunted me ever since.
Nothing had prepared me for watching my best friend die in my arms, for the responsibility he'd placed on my shoulders with those final words. Livia had been just a child then, all skinned knees and fierce determination, so like her brother it hurt to look at her sometimes.
Now, watching her train in secret every morning, I saw Tarus in every movement, in the way she gritted her teeth against exhaustion, in her stubborn refusal to give up. But where Tarus had been measured, careful, Livia burned too bright, too reckless. She had his courage but none of his caution, and it terrified me.
I'd spent years watching over her from the shadows, intervening when needed without her knowledge. The stable master who'd gotten too handsy had found himself with broken fingers. The gladiator who'd cornered her in the storage room had mysteriously received a beating that left him unable to fight for weeks. Small acts of protection that she'd never know about, would probably hate me for if she did.
But this morning was different. When I saw her march onto the training ground, saw Cato's predatory smile as he sized her up, something inside me snapped. I stormed out of the training arena, my blood still boiling from what I'd witnessed earlier. The image of Livia sprawled on the ground, Cato standing over her with that smug grin, was burned into my mind. I couldn't shake it, no matter how hard I tried. That stupid girl. Clearly she hadn’t listened to a word I’d said the night before. What in Inferi was she thinking, marching onto the training ground like that?
I stalked through the alley towards the barracks, the scorching desert sun beating down on my shoulders. Sweat trickled down my back, but I barely noticed, consumed by my anger. I had tofind her, to knock some sense into that thick skull of hers before she got herself killed.
I knew she hadn’t been seriously hurt, just humiliated. She’d been lucky Cato had been in a good mood this morning, or we could have been carrying her off to the healer, and Drusus would have been furious. Cato wasn’t exactly known for holding back even during training. I bore several scars from being paired with him on occasion over the years, and the fear I’d felt when I’d stepped out into the arena this morning and seen her facing up to him still stabbed in my chest.
I swear, that girl would be the death of me. The things I'd done over the years to keep her safe, the fights I'd gotten into on her behalf - all without her knowledge. And did she appreciate it? Of course not. She was too busy trying to throw herself into danger at every turn.
I rounded the corner to the barracks, my fists clenched at my sides. And there she was, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was falling down around her face from its pins, and she glared at me as I approached, her eyes flashing with defiance.
For a moment, I just looked at her, trying to reconcile this woman with the girl I remembered. The one who used to follow Tarus and me around the village, demanding we teach her sword forms with sticks, her dark hair escaping its braids just like now. The one who'd curled up against my side in the slave pens the night after Tarus died, her small body wracked with sobs until she finally fell asleep. I'd stayed awake all night to watch over her, swearing to every god I knew that I'd die before I let anything happen to her.
But that girl was gone. In her place stood this maddening woman who seemed determined to test every ounce of my self-control. The bruise on her cheekbone was already darkening, and my fingers itched to trace it, to soothe the hurt. Instead, Iclenched them tighter at my sides. I couldn't afford that kind of softness. Not with her.
She'd grown dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with combat skills. The way she moved now, all lean muscle and deadly grace. The fire in her eyes that made my blood heat despite my best intentions. Even now, disheveled and angry, she was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache. Beautiful, and completely forbidden to me.
I could almost hear Tarus's voice in my head, that familiar teasing tone: "You're thinking too much again, Sep." But Tarus wasn't here. He'd died believing I would protect his sister, not harbor these thoughts about her that kept me awake at night.
"Come to lecture me again, Septimus?" Livia spat, her voice dripping with venom.
I stopped in front of her, close enough that I could see the bruise forming on her cheekbone where Cato had struck her. My anger flared anew.
"What were you thinking?" I hissed, struggling to keep my voice low. "I told you to stay away from the arena. You could have been killed!"
Livia pushed off the wall, stepping closer to me.
“I was thinking I could prove myself. Not that it’s any of your business, Septimus. I can take care of myself."
