"Would you come with me then? Leave all this behind, find some quiet corner of the empire to plant crops and raise children?"
She hesitated, and I saw the answer in her eyes before she could speak. I laughed again, gentler this time, and reached up to cup her face in my hand.
"I'm jesting with you, Livia. I would never ask such a thing of you."
"Why not?" she asked quietly.
I studied her beautiful face. "Because if you care for someone, you shouldn't ask for something that the other person cannot give."
Her deep brown eyes met mine, and I saw tears in them, though they didn't fall.
"Marcus wants me to go with him," she admitted. I felt a cold heaviness settle in my chest, but I tried not to react openly.
"He does?"
She nodded. "It was part of his deal with Drusus. He won the tournament, and got his freedom, money to buy his land, and... me."
"So you're leaving?" I pulled back, suddenly feeling a distance between us that I'd never felt before. "Are you and he..."
"We are... but it's not..." she sighed. "Tarshi, we're slaves, all of us. We could die tomorrow in the arena, or next week. A future with a home and family was never going to happen for any of us, and it's not something I ever wanted. I just spend time with the people I care about, people I want to be with. How could I want anything more knowing what we are?"
I nodded, understanding. Her wanting Marcus didn't mean she wanted me any less, and realistically, I would never be able to earn my freedom. I could never give her this chance Marcus was offering.
"You should go with him," I said.
Her eyes flew up to mine. "But you just said..."
"He can keep you safe, keep you away from the arena and death and the men here that just take what they want." My mind drifted back to the day I'd seen her with Drusus, that flat acceptance on her face as he prepared to take her against her will. I never wanted to see that again. If losing her to Marcus meant she was safe, then I would urge her to go.
"But what about what I want? None of you seem very concerned with that," she snapped, eyes narrowing.
"You don't want freedom and safety?" I asked. "What do you want?"
She took a deep breath. "Freedom, yes, safety... maybe later. What I really wanted is vengeance."
I blinked. "Vengeance? Against who?"
"Against those who killed my family, who razed my village to the ground. the soldiers that did it, and the one who gave the orders. And I want to know why." She glared up at me, her eyes burning with a fire I recognised from the arena. "I want them dead, Tarshi. All of them. I want their blood on my hands, andI won't ever get that playing the little wife on a farm somewhere near here."
She was crazy, that much was clear. To even find out who was responsible would be hard enough, but to hunt down those involved would be near impossible, but that look on her face of sheer determination made my heart swell with pride and love for her. She was one Hades of a woman. And she had chosen me to share her body with, her confidences with.
Her eyes dropped from my face, her fire fading away.
"I'm sorry, I can't be that for you. Or for Marcus."
"Never apologize for who you are." I brushed my thumb across her cheek. "Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a dragon in a cage - beautiful, fierce, untamed. They think they've captured you, think they can control you with their arena walls and their rules and their traditions. But they don't understand what you are."
Her eyes were wide in the torchlight, reflecting the flames like captured stars. "And what am I?"
"Fire given form," I said softly. "They can cage your body, but they can never cage your spirit. Someday, when the moment is right, you'll spread your wings and soar, and all their chains and cages will mean nothing."
"And you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Will you soar with me?"
Instead of answering, I pulled her closer and kissed her. She tasted of wine and hope and freedom - things I'd thought lost to me forever until she came into my life. Her hands slid up my chest, careful of the fresh bruises, and tangled in my hair.
When we finally parted, I rested my forehead against hers. "I'm not meant to soar, little dragon. I'm earthbound, made for fighting in the dirt and mud. But I'll watch you rise, and that will be enough."
"It doesn't have to be that way," she insisted, fierce even in tenderness. "We could-"
