is he?” Petronius asked.
“He lost consciousness moments after Lady Leonia left to fetch you.”
The Greek’s announcement sent a chill straight down Adiona’s spine. Reason urged her toward the exit, but her feet refused to budge.
“How long has he been here?” Petronius knelt on the floor, his fingers testing the angry red wound on Quintus’s thigh.
“Less than half an hour is my guess.” Alexius took a torch off the wall and angled it to give the physician better light.
Adiona clutched the bundle of soft linen she held and bit her lip as every nerve in her body focused on Quintus and his treatment.
I should leave. I’m not wanted here. Quintus doesn’t want me here.
She handed the bandages to Alexius. Once again she turned to go. A moan from Quintus tugged her back. Despite her resolve to cling to her anger and put him out of her mind, she found herself by his side before she realized she’d taken a single step forward.
Being this close to Quintus was rare. He was a slave, a gladiator. Always a battlefield stood between them.
Unbidden emotions filled her heart. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him. Torchlight danced across the lean angles of his face, the smudge of dark bristles that shadowed the sharp cut of his jaw. Her gaze roamed over the thick muscles that roped his arms and broad chest, the bloody arrow wound in his shoulder.
Wishing she could ease his pain, she noted how he’d changed since she’d first seen him. Five months ago, he’d been little more than skin and bones. Caros’s new slave with no more than a will to live and brooding green eyes. Green eyes that clashed with hers across a sea of golden sand and left her breathless.
She swallowed hard. “Will he recover?”
The physician shrugged. “It’s a clean wound, but only the gods can say.”
The pallor beneath Quintus’s sun-bronzed skin scared her. Hesitant to touch him in case she caused him further pain, she brushed a thick lock of black hair from his brow and murmured his name.
“Don’t bother, my lady. He can’t hear you,” Petronius said. “Until I get him stitched up, you don’t want him to, either.” He tossed the bloody arrow aside and it clacked against the cement floor. He set down the extractor, stemming the fresh spurts of blood with a piece of the linen bandage. “Hand me that bottle.”
Adiona did as commanded, forgetting she took orders from no one. The physician poured the foul-smelling liquid over the wound, then began sewing together the hole’s ragged edges.
Quintus’s face contorted with pain. He groaned through his delirium. She spoke softly to him and soothed his brow until he calmed, deciding she would just have to wait and hate him tomorrow.
Caros Viriathos studied the training field below his bedchamber’s second-story window. A bright winter sun had reached its zenith, flashing off his men’s metal helmets and various pieces of weaponry. His pet, Cat, sat quietly beside him. The tiger’s long tail swished on the mosaic-tiled floor as he sniffed the cool breeze carrying the scent of lamb meant for the noonday meal.
After a month away from the Ludus Maximus, it felt good to return, but since his marriage he acknowledged the gladiator school he owned and built no longer seemed like home.
His new wife, Pelonia, claimed that distinction in his heart. Wherever she was, he wanted to be. Together, they’d decided to start their lives afresh on the Umbrian hill estate once stolen from her father. Eager to leave for the villa and fertile lands he’d been able to return to her as a wedding gift, he had much to do to settle his affairs here in Rome.
He heard his wife’s voice calling for him from out in the corridor. Assuming she had questions about the wedding feast they planned for Friday evening, he turned, a smile curving his lips. It quickly faded as she hurried through the door, her doe-brown eyes filled with distress. He and Cat both moved toward her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Did you know Quintus was injured while we were away? Alexius entered him in the games!”
He sighed. Home less than an hour and she’d already heard the bad news. He folded her in his embrace, enjoying how she fit against him, her floral scent, her cheek pressed against his chest. “I know. Alexius tried to help him—”
“By tossing him into the arena?” She pulled back and looked up at him with a dubious frown. “Quintus is a brother in the Lord. He’s a slave because of his faith in Christ. You should free him, Caros. Not allow him to be maimed or worse in that horrid ring of torture.”
He felt her shudder and knew she remembered the day she’d been cast into the arena for her faith. He kissed her brow, grateful the Lord has spared them both, yet wishing he could erase the nightmare for her. “I tried to free Quintus before we left for Umbria. I know he wants his liberty and I had no intention of sending him to fight.”
“Then why—?”
“Because he declined my offer. If he accepted, he’d be indebted to me or so he claimed. He’s a merchant, Pelonia, and a proud man with self-respect. He knows the value of a denarius and he’s determined to pay his full debt himself.”
“But how can he if he has no coin? Why not loan—?”
He shook his head. “I offered. Again, he declined. He won’t take anything that isn’t earned. When he leaves here, he intends to be free in every sense of the word.”
“So Alexius entered him in the arena for the prize winnings.” She searched his face. “But Quintus has only trained five months. How can he be ready?”
He tucked a soft tendril of black hair behind her ear. “Under normal conditions, I’d say he couldn’t be, but Quintus is keenly intelligent and surprisingly agile for one of his class. After he’d been here only a matter of weeks he was already making progress with some of the more advanced battle stances. Alexius told me he fought well.”
“What does that matter now that our friend is injured? His life is worth more than silver. He could have died.”
He lifted her chin with his index finger and looked deeply into her eyes. “Isn’t it you who always reminds me God has a plan for everyone’s life?”
She nodded, but her mouth drooped into a playful pout. “It isn’t nice to throw my words back in my face.”
“And it’s such a beautiful face.” He chuckled and kissed away her frown. “You should be thankful you have a husband who listens.”
She hugged him tight and laughed. “Oh, I am, believe me.”
“Then listen to me,” he said, pleased to see her smile again. “All will be well with Quintus. I’ve denied his request to reenter the ring—”
“What? He asked for another fight? Does he have no care at all for his life?”
“I admit his spirits seem much lower than when we left a month ago. He has the hardened look of a man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies. That’s to be expected after all he’s suffered, but for the moment at least, I’ll ensure he stays breathing. I’m confident
