Aware of his voice calling out from behind me, letting me know he wasn’t the least bit fooled by my story. “You really shouldn’t go there, Aurelia,” he said. “And believe me, you will not find Messalina there either. She is forbidden to go anywhere near the ludus—her uncle has made sure of that!”
A warning I was quick to ignore, already making my way down the stairs as I thought: That’s what you think, Dacian. That’s what you think.
9
I tore down the stairs, moving swiftly, quietly, hoping to gather as much information as I possibly could, knowing full well that Messalina couldn’t be trusted—whatever she chose to reveal was carefully calculated and doled out in bits. She had an agenda—of that I was sure. And though I had no idea what that agenda might be, I did know that she didn’t just control her world—she also controlled everyone in it—including, for a while anyway, me.
Pausing for a moment when my feet hit the landing, I stared down a long corridor crowded with big, hulking gladiator ghosts caught up in the same, lame routine as the last time I saw them. Their fists swinging wildly, their bodies slamming into each other—I swerved my way around them, clapped a hand over my nose to block out the stench, and kept going.
My eyes darting wildly, searching for signs of Messalina or Theocoles—either would do—convinced that whichever one I found first, would lead me right to the other. I moved among the row of cells, rising up on my toes in an effort to peer into the small square openings marking the top, though it wasn’t until I reached the second to last one that I saw them. Messalina looking so pristine, so perfectly put together and groomed, she reminded me of a small, delicate, porcelain doll that somehow wound up in a landfill—as a handsome, tunic-clad Theocoles stood just before her—their bodies a mere razor’s width apart as they gazed longingly at each other.
I snapped my mouth shut before I could gasp, or squeal, or do anything that might alert them to my presence, gaping in wonder at the vision before me—the sight of it giving this Soul Catch a whole new meaning.
Despite their vast and varied differences in stature and class—despite their belonging to two different worlds—Theocoles and Messalina had been in love. And from what I could see, they still were.
But just when I thought I had it all figured out, Theocoles shifted and revealed something new.
I leaned closer, my cheek pressed hard against the rough, splintered wood, as I watched Theocoles shift to the side and position himself, before springing into the air, his legs kicking, sword slashing, piercing the air just beside where she stood.
And that’s when I realized the rest of it—that’s when I knew that while Messalina may have been gazing at him, Theocoles had not returned the look. He’d been staring right past her, still lost in his world.
But Messalina was not one to give up—she remained as stubborn as I knew her to be. And from the small square opening at the top of the door, I followed her progress as she eased her way around his thrusts and kicks, veering around him in a carefully choreographed dance.
Shouting as loud as she could, she fought to get the champion gladiator to take notice of her. Her voice fading, face growing increasingly frustrated, when he continued to ignore her in favor of his own tireless routine.
The scene so hopeless, dragging on for so long, I was just about to cut my losses and find my way back, when Messalina heaved a great sigh, found her way to the edge of his cot, where she sat, legs crossed daintily, hands folded primly, as she said, “Theocoles, I wish you would heed my words and please reconsider. You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to go through with this. I will gladly give you the money, so that all of this madness can end.”
Barely getting the words out before Theocoles stopped and turned, his gaze focused on hers, looking as though the light had come on, the fog had been cleared. He dropped his hands to his sides, leaned toward her, and said, “Your offer insults me—demeans me!” He shook his head, raked his fingers through his bangs, fixing his deep topaz eyes on hers. “Do you think me not worthy? Do you think I’ve come this far, slaughtered so many worthy opponents, only to make a spectacle of my own defeat?”
She looked at him, her face bearing so little expression, the words coming so quickly, so automatically I suddenly understood what was happening.
It was a performance.
They were both running lines from a scene they’d reenacted countless times.
Theocoles so immersed in the role it was clear that for him, it was no different than the fist time it happened. But for Messalina, the words were halfhearted, weary, spoken with no trace of emotion, like reading aloud from a textbook.
She’d tried to insert a new scene, tried to wake him up to a more modern day, but Theocoles remained stuck in a past he chose to live over and over again. Forcing Messalina to slip into the role she’d lived long ago in order to enjoy his attentions.
I pressed closer, strained to hear their words, knowing that if it was a scene he chose to relive then it was definitely a scene of great significance. It was not to be missed.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just anxious to begin our lives together,” Messalina said, her voice soft and tired.
“As am I.” He moved toward her, his gaze intense as he knelt down before her. “Everything I do is in anticipation of that day. Are you not aware of that?”
She cocked her head to the side and shot him a dubious look. “Everything you do is for me?” She pursed her lips, wrapped a loose curl around her index finger. “Are you quite sure of that? None of it is for Lucius?”
Theocoles paused, looked away, his face saddened, reflective, as he said, “There cannot be one without the other.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I’m afraid our fates are all bound together.” He reached toward her, brushed his finger across her brow, along the curve of her cheek, pressing the soft underside of her chin. He lifted her face until her gaze locked on his. “Now come, it is time we bid our good-byes in favor of rest.” He rose to his feet as she did the same. “My hope is that you will carry the sweet promise of our future straight into your dreams—and tomorrow, less than twenty-four hours from now, the world will be ours.”
Messalina smiled bravely, swiped a quick hand across her cheek, halting the renegade tear that sped down her face before Theocoles could see it. Her expression stoic, resigned, she took a step toward him and grasped his hand in hers, as I pushed away from the door and raced back down the corridor as fast as I could.
10
Despite having retraced my same steps—the second I reached the landing I saw that my destination was not quite the one I expected.
Not even close.
Instead of the glamorous party I’d left, I found myself outside, squinting into a harsh, glaring sun, surrounded by hundreds—no, scratch that—make that tens of thousands of toga-clad Romans, all of them pushing and shoving and fighting for someplace to sit.
“Aurelia!” A familiar voice rang out from behind me, as I gazed all around in confusion. “Aurelia, what on earth are you doing out here among the common masses?”
I felt a tug on the back of my dress, and turned to find Messalina smiling before me, her face radiant, her cheeks flushed the same light pink as the gorgeous new gown that she wore.
“If you’re done acquainting yourself with the lower classes, perhaps we can move on to my uncle’s box where it’s far less crowded, and far more welcoming with its abundance of food and drink and more importantly in this heat—shade!” She rolled her eyes and laughed, retrieving a gold-and-pink fan from the folds of her dress. She waved it under my chin in an effort to cool me. “Oh, and you might also like to know that Dacian has been making himself quite crazy, wondering if you’ll make an appearance—worried he might never get to see you again. I hear you’ve been quite naughty, playing hard to get.” She shot me a sly look, before she went on. “Truly, the boy is in a very sorry state. He just won’t let up! Keeps insisting I tell him whether or not he can expect you. Thou
gh I must say it’s been such great fun watching the poor boy suffer, I refuse to divulge much of anything.” She lifted her fan to her face, hiding all but her eyes. “It seems he’s quite smitten with you, now, isn’t he? The question is, what are you going to do about it? Are you smitten as well? C’mon, you can tell me, Aurelia—do you feel the same way as he?”
She looked at me, eyes shining, face beaming, waiting for an answer that never really came. I was too busy trying to figure out what had just happened—how the night had turned so swiftly to day—how I’d found my way to the Colosseum without even realizing it.
Though Messalina didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by my silence, she just smiled brightly, crooked her arm in offering, and beckoned for me to follow alongside her.
Her smile plastered to her face, refusing to fade even after I said, “No.” I crossed my arms before me and shook my head for emphasis, causing my thick blond curls to brush against my cheeks. “I need to find Theocoles—as you well know.” I stared at her in challenge, noting the way her brow shot halfway up her forehead as her lips quirked to the side.
“Well, of course you’ll see Theocoles,” she said, her voice light but forced, her eyes moving over me slowly, conducting a very thorough inventory. “Don’t be silly, Aurelia—he’s the main attraction, is he not?” She shook her head and tsked, her tongue tapping the roof of her mouth. “Everyone will see him today, to be sure. After all, he is the reason we’re all here. Though I’m afraid you may have a bit of a wait; he’s not scheduled to fight until later in the day. So come now, enough of this nonsense.” She tilted her head to the side and offered her hand, fingers beckoning as she said, “Why don’t you join me?” But when I didn’t, when I didn’t make a move either way, she leaned closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Oh, you’re right. Before we get to all that we really must attend to your dress. Perhaps you need a little freshening up, no? After all, Dacian is in quite a stir, and we don’t want to disappoint him, now, do we?”
I gazed down the front of my dress, noting that, yeah, it was a little wrinkled, a bit dust-covered from my time spent in the ludus, a little bit worse for the wear, but still nowhere near as tragic as she seemed to think. But just as I started to protest that I was just fine, that I wasn’t about to follow her anywhere until she explained a few things, she looked at me with those warm brown eyes, lifted a cool hand to my brow and brushed a finger lightly against it, and the next thing I knew I was agreeing to it all. The dress, the hair, the jewels, the luxurious box that her uncle owned, which also, according to Messalina, was the best, most important, most comfortable, most sought-after spot for viewing the games.
“You should consider yourself quite lucky to sit there,” she said.
And the thing is, I did feel lucky. I felt really, really incredibly lucky, in more ways than one. Every single thing that had once been missing from my afterlife was now in my grasp.
I’d been longing for a good friend, a friend so close we were like sisters—and I’d found it in Messalina.
I’d been longing for a chance at a bit of fun and romance, and because of Messalina, I’d found it in Dacian.
I was one of the privileged few. I was lucky, lucky, lucky. My life was wonderfully good. And it was all because of her.
The moment we entered the box, Messalina let go of my arm and hung back. Watching with an amused smile as Dacian rushed toward me, went about the whole bowing/ hand-kissing ritual, before leading me to the seat beside his, where I pretended to listen as he chatted on and on about the day’s program.
There were wild-game hunts in the works, a group of prisoners to be executed, and bippidy blah blah, on and on he went. Having no idea that I was well beyond caring—immersed in a land where the only things that interested me were how amazing I looked in my new lavender dress—and how amazing I felt whenever Dacian’s eyes flitted toward mine.
“And then of course once that’s all said and done then it’s time for the great Theocoles, who’s set to defend his title as the Pillar of Doom. As I mentioned last night, this may well turn out to be his very last fight. I suspect that’s why the Colosseum is filled to capacity—he’s a very big draw. Many of the spectators have already placed their bets on his fate, and I must admit, you can count me among them. In fact …”
His words faded, edged out by the one that continued to play in my head: Theocoles.
Why did the name hold such importance?
Why should I even care about the fate of some gladiator slave who could very well be facing his final day?
I leaned back in my seat, confused by the way the name made me feel.
“Did you say it was his … last fight?” I turned toward Dacian, aware of a vague yet insistent nudge coming from someplace deep within me, egging me on.
Dacian nodded. “Theocoles has more than just his life riding on this fight—and no matter the outcome, it promises to be quite a spectacle, indeed.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, caught up in the excitement of being the first to inform me. “He’s garnered himself quite the fan club, as you will soon see. And it’s not just because the stakes are so high, but because he knows how to put on a show. In just a short amount of time he’s learned how to win over the crowd. Theocoles discovered early on that an important part of a gladiator’s survival is not just skill with a sword and a drive to conquer and win—but also to ensure that the crowd stays entertained. It’s not enough just to slay your opponent—the crowd will tire of that rather quickly. Blood and gore—blood and gore …” He made a bored face. “As you will see, by the time all the ravaged carcasses are dragged from the arena, the crowd will have already witnessed several hours of slaughter, and after a while, one grisly battle can begin to fade into the next. A real gladiator, a champion gladiator such as Theocoles, remains well aware of this fact, and therefore they take it among themselves to choreograph their battles to provide maximum entertainment, to ensure the crowd’s attention stays riveted on them.”
I hung on his every word, committing it to memory as I struggled to take it all in. The intense look in my eye causing Dacian to say, “Oh no.” He shook his head in mock horror. “I can see I’ve said too much. I can see it in the gleam in your eyes, your heart is already captured, and now it’s just a matter of time before I’ll be forced to throw myself into the arena in order to win your affections!”
He laughed when he said it, but somehow the joke washed right over me. For some strange reason I chose to take his words seriously. “What? No!” I shook my head, caught off guard by—well, by just about everything. “Please, you must not do so on my account,” I added, the words awkward, stumbling right out of my mouth.
“Don’t do what on your account?” Messalina crept up from behind me, her movement fluid, catlike, grinning in a way that left me wondering just how long she might’ve been listening as she draped herself over the back of my chair.
“It seems, I’ve made the mistake of getting Aurelia a little too well-versed in the games. She’s obsessed, I can tell. He has yet to appear in the arena, and already I have lost her to the legend that is Theocoles.”
“Aw, the Pillar of Doom.” Messalina laughed, though the sound was not light, and her eyes failed to shine.
“You said he was set to go free?” I leaned toward Dacian. “Does this have something to do with Lucius?”
Dacian looked confused, though he was nowhere near as confused as I felt. Where had the name come from? What was I even talking about?
Just as the memory began to resurface—a fleeting glimpse of the conversation I witnessed between Messalina and Theocoles in his cell when I’d first heard the name—Messalina tapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “If Theocoles shall be crowned today’s victor, his winnings will be enough to cover the gambling debts Lucius owes, which in turn will secure Lucius’ freedom, as he currently works in the quarries, a horrible fate to be sure.” She rubbed her arms, gave a little shiver, though her eyes never left mine. “It will also conclude th
e contract Theocoles holds with my uncle, which in turn will free him as well. It is a very important day for both of them, indeed.”
“So that means Theocoles volunteered?” My eyes met Messalina’s as a new understanding began to take shape. “And that’s why you …”
“That’s why I what?” she said, and the moment her eyes met mine, I was no longer sure. What was crystal clear a moment before had vanished just as quickly.
Dacian’s voice cutting into my cloudy, vague thoughts when he said, “His brother got in a bit over his head.” He scoffed, made a face, leaving no doubt as to how he felt about that.
His actions causing Messalina to stiffen beside me, as I remained parked between them, aware of something stirring inside me, poking, prodding, fighting to get my attention, and yet my head felt so foggy, all I could do was run my hands over the deep lavender folds of my dress and lose myself in admiring it.
“Theocoles has shown nothing but the greatest honor and bravery,” Messalina said, her voice laced with an edge that was impossible to miss. “His brother Lucius means everything to him, and what Theocoles has been able to accomplish on his brother’s behalf is nothing short of greatness. And I, for one, believe he should be commended for that. No matter how this day ends, he shall not be forgotten, for surely that would be considered no less than a crime.”
“Tell you what—if he lives, I’ll be the first to commend him,” Dacian said, paying no mind to Messalina’s tone, much less the stricken expression his words left on her face. “And if not …” He grinned, glancing between the two of us as he slid a finger clean across the width of his neck.
“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t we?” Messalina’s eyes darted between us, her response eliciting a sarcastic chuckle from Dacian, and silence from me.