"Septimus-" she started, but I cut her off with another attack.
"Save it," I snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your games today."
"Games?" Her voice cracked slightly. "What are you talking about?"
Before I could answer, Marcus stepped in. "That's enough for now. Take a break, cool off."
I threw my practice sword down with more force than necessary, watching it bounce in the sand. Livia stood there, chest heaving, looking at me like she didn't recognize me. Good. Maybe it would be easier this way.
"Septimus, wait-" she called after me as I turned to leave.
I stopped but didn't turn around. "What for?" I asked, my voice flat. "Don't you have someone else to occupy your time?"
I walked away before she could respond, leaving her standing there in the morning sun. Let her wonder. Let her hurt. It was nothing compared to the acid eating away at my insides every time I saw her with him.
Behind me, I could hear Marcus' low voice, probably comforting her, probably touching her with those careful handsof his. I wanted to turn around. Wanted to apologize. Wanted to tell her everything.
Instead, I kept walking.
I made it as far as the water barrel before my hands started shaking. Plunging them into the cool water, I tried to wash away the feeling of her nearness, the memory of hurt in her eyes. Behind me, I could hear the rhythmic clash of swords resuming - Marcus taking my place as her sparring partner, no doubt. Always Marcus now.
"Here."
Her voice startled me. I hadn't heard her approach, hadn't expected her to follow. Livia stood there holding out a cloth, her face carefully neutral. Acting like nothing was wrong, like she always did. Like the perfect little gladiator she'd become.
I took the cloth without looking at her, dried my hands with sharp, angry movements. "Shouldn't you be training?"
"Marcus is working with Maro. Are you going to tell me what that was about?"
"Nothing to tell." I made to move past her, but she stepped into my path.
"Bullshit." Her voice was low, intense. "You've been different lately. Distant. And now this?" She reached for my arm. "Talk to me, Sep. Please."
The nickname hit me like a punch to the gut. She hadn't called me that since before... before everything. Before I'd watched her grow from a scrappy kid into this beautiful, deadly woman who haunted my dreams. Before I'd failed to protect her from Drusus. Before Marcus. And the gods knew who else.
I jerked away from her touch. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't pretend you care." The words came out harsh, bitter. "Don't act like we're still friends, like nothing's changed."
Color flooded her cheeks. "I'm not pretending anything! You're the one who's been avoiding me, who barely speaks to me anymore, who looks at me like-" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.
"Like what?" I stepped closer, too close, watching her pulse jump in her throat. "Like I see you nearly getting yourself killed? Or fucking your way through the ludus?"
Her hand cracked across my face before I registered she was moving. The slap echoed in the sudden silence of the alley, and I realised we were standing maybe ten yards from where I’d first kissed her.
"How dare you," she whispered. "You don't know anything."
"I know enough." I touched my stinging cheek, laughing without humor. "I've watched you with all of them over the years. Watched you go to their beds. To his bed. And now Marcus-"
"Stop it," she hissed, but I was beyond stopping now.
"Why not me?" The words ripped out before I could stop them. "Am I not good enough? Not strong enough? What is it about me that disgusts you so much?"
Her eyes widened. "What? Sep, I never-"
I didn't let her finish. Grabbing her arms, I crushed my mouth to hers, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say. She made a startled sound against my lips, her body tensing, but she didn't pull away.
