The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath) (29 page)

Cyrus raced to keep up with the direction of Claudius’ words.

Aurora was alive, but she was to be executed at the games later this day.

Primus had stopped her? He did not believe such a thing for that man was an idiot, but he’d done it—
somehow.

She’d endured the pain of torture, but still remained quiet.

Cyrus looked to Claudius—his
dominus
wondered if Aurora had acted alone. Despite himself, Cyrus’ gaze strayed to Cornelia, who shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his stare, but his eyes did not leave her as he spoke, “I do not know if she acted alone or not,
dominus
, but I think you would be wise to remain on guard in the event she had an accomplice, and that accomplice still roams about.”

Claudius regarded him with an appreciative stare. “That is why I have trusted you in this. You are ever wise and clever. You are also loyal. When the guards found you, your garments were torn and your quarters were in disarray. I know you must have struggled with the witch before the poison set it. I know you tried to stop her. For all you have done in guarding me against her, your loyalty, your bravery, I shall see you free,” Claudius announced. “After the
ludi Victoriae Caesaris
has come to an end, and I have executed that traitor, you shall have your freedom.”

The elation Cyrus should have felt at Claudius’ words never came. Every day of his enslavement he’d longed for this very moment, had waited in anticipation for the joy he would know when he was once again a free citizen.

What he felt was neither elation, nor joy. He was not entirely certain of the emotions coursing through him, only that a myriad of feelings clashed against one another, and he could not make any of them out.

Whatever he felt, however, it was bittersweet—for by dusk of this day, Cyrus
would
be free, yet Aurora would be dead.

* * * *

After he left Claudius, he should have retired to his quarters until it was time for them to leave for the games. The day promised to be a long one, and he was already weary, but he could not watch Aurora go to her death in the arena without speaking to her one last time.

Two guards stood at the entrance to the prison beneath the villa. Neither of them questioned him as they let him pass. Another guard greeted him at the entryway into the prison chambers, and another stood before the door of Aurora’s cage.

“Might we have a moment alone?” Cyrus asked the soldier who was posted beside her cell.

The guard hesitated and moved to protest, but Cyrus held up his arms as if surrendering before twisting his body around in a circle.

“You see I have no weapon, nothing which to give aide to her cause. You do not even have to leave these chambers, I just wish for a moment of privacy to speak with the prisoner—one gladiator to another.”

Cyrus knew this guard—Antonius, was his name.

In turn, Antonius knew Cyrus was loyal, honorable, but even had he not known the champion gladiator, Cyrus’ eyes revealed the sincerity of his words.

With a nod, Antonius left his post to stand at the entrance to the chambers, affording Cyrus a measure of privacy with Aurora.

He faced her then, and his heart lurched at the sight of her.

Her
tunica
was torn and tattered, her hair wild about a face that was purple with bruises and caked with her own blood.

She looked at him through one eye, because the other was swollen shut.

“Cyrus,” she rasped, as she came to stand before him, her hands curling around the bars.

With his back to them, the guards could not see him, and he blocked any view of her.

Slipping his hands through the iron bars, he cupped her face, his fingers gentle as he stroked her swollen cheek.

“I am sorry,” she croaked out, and he looked at her in bewilderment. “For the poison,” She answered the question in his eyes. “I had no other choice—”

With a finger against her lips, he halted her words. “I know,” was all he said, because he did.

Thinking upon it, Cyrus knew Aurora had not betrayed him, not when she could have so easily killed him. Aurora had tried to spare him. She’d tried to protect him. By poisoning him and then making it appear as if they’d fought, she’d relieved Cyrus of any suspicion. By poisoning him, she’d assured he would not stand in her way, and in doing so, that they would not be forced to choose—their love for one another, or their duty to their purpose. Poisoning him had been the only choice she’d had, one she’d made out of love for him.

“Had you succeeded, would you truly have never seen me again?” The words—to say them—cleaved him open and left him tormented. Out of everything she’d done, that was the only offense that still remained with him, which still knotted his gut. That she could leave him and never look back.

She glanced away, and then she pulled away, taking with her the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.

“You have many obligations to see to in your homeland, Cyrus.”

Obligations he had never wanted, and that never should have been his as the second son. He could have punched something, anything, at the wrongness of it all.

Yes, Aurora would have left without looking back because wasn’t that what he’d said
he’d
do. When he was free, he would return to the miserable life he’d left behind.

I would have come for you.

Those were the words he wanted to say, but he did not, because he could not. He didn’t know if he would have ever come for her. He would have longed to, with every part of himself, but had his tribe, his family needed him, he would have stayed.

“Claudius has planned for your execution at the games later this day,” he said eventually.

“I know.”

“What happened, Aurora?”

“I failed.”

She did not act as if she’d failed. Determination flashed in her eyes and her body stiffened to its full height. If anything, she appeared to be preparing for one last stance.

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing of the change in her. Instead, he reached out, beckoning her to him, and a sigh of relief escaped him when she came as close as she could, given the iron bars between them. He realized this was as close as they would ever be again—at least in
this
life.

“I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what happens this day, know I always shall.”

“I know,” she whispered, her smile faint. “As I love you.”

Cyrus stilled at a sound from behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the impatient expression upon Antonius’ face.

“I must go.”

She released him, as reluctantly as he released her.

Every step he took away from her was as if he left a piece of his heart behind in the shadow of his footprint.

Until that moment he’d not realized he had not truly lived until Aurora, and he wondered if he would ever do so again, knowing that she would no longer exist in this life. He did not think so. He imagined his existence would be a shell of what it had been before he’d met her, before he’d known love.

* * * *

Just after midday, guards dragged Aurora in chains from her cell and cast her into the prison beneath Capena’s arena with all the other criminals waiting to be executed. She watched as one by one those who waited with her were taken away, never to return.

When it was Aurora’s turn the crowd thundered and roared with impatience, eager to get a glimpse of the newly crowned champion who’d fallen so low.

Their eagerness was well rewarded, for when Aurora entered the arena, she confirmed to all who watched her why she was truly deserving of the title—the champion
gladiatrix
of Capena—for she slaughtered every opponent sent into the arena to kill her.

She slaughtered them with an almost vicious desperation, displaying the lengths one was prepared to go to in their quest to survive.

The crowd reveled in the bloodshed, the violence, the savagery but Cornelia soon tired of it all.

“Really Claudius, this has passed the point of vulgarity. It is obvious she will not die, so take her out of there, and imprison her until the games are over and we can crucify her.”

Claudius glared at his wife, but Cornelia pretended as if she did not see it as her gaze remained riveted on the battered and beleaguered woman at the center of the arena.

Fifteen.

Yes.
Fifteen
bodies lay still around her, never to move again.

Claudius sent them into the arena in fours, then twos. Cornelia had not understood the purpose of sending in the last one
alone
. Aurora had felled him within minutes of entering the arena.

Truly, it was pathetic, and for Claudius, it was humiliating.

“I think Cornelia is right, my friend,” Senator Vibius said from beside her. “Every soldier she’s faced, she has killed. It is as if she is touched by the gods and the crowd seems to favor her this day. They throw their support behind the champion.”

Claudius sneered. “But not for long.”

Cornelia sat up straighter at the menacing look in her husband’s eyes. He hid it well, but Cornelia knew he was a cruel man, with a depraved mind. He enjoyed the suffering of others, delighted in it. She knew all too well for she’d seen what he’d done to others who stood against him, who stood in his way. She’d seen the children, the young faces of innocence he’d taken from their families and sold because he could, because he was displeased and no one was brave enough to stand against him. He thought she did not know of what he did when he disappeared from their villa for many days at a time, with his small army of guards to threaten and steal from those he’d been charged with presiding over. He was a tyrant, used to doing what he pleased and getting what he wished.

At the moment, he wished for Aurora’s death, but it still eluded him, and the knowledge of which was steadily eating away at him. With each soldier he sent into the arena, only to be cut down by a lowly slave, the crowd cheered louder for her, they bolstered
her
against Claudius’ purpose, and if Cornelia knew anything of her husband, she knew he would not stand for such a humiliating defeat.

“What do you plot this time?” she demanded of Claudius, but her question was met with only the sinister twinkling of his eyes.

“Just be patient my dear wife. Soon you shall see.”

* * * *

If she could survive…if she could just survive…

Aurora’s body protested against the exertions as she taxed it once again to defend itself before another poorly trained Roman soldier who’d never been tested in the gladiatorial arena or faced the cruelties of battle. They were guards, not men of war, who Claudius sent to their deaths.

His latest sacrifice fell at her feet, rivers of blood rushing from the gash across his neck. Aurora stumbled back, her chest heaving, her heart pounding.

If she could survive…if she could just survive…

Another second, another minute, an hour, perhaps even a day—as long as she survived just one more, that was one more chance she would have to accomplish her purpose.

A seemingly hopeless situation, but Aurora never gave up. If she was meant to die in this arena, on this day, then so be it, but the gods still smiled down upon her, and she would accept their favor until it was no longer so.

The metal grate began to open again.

Aurora sighed.

She’d thought after this last defeat, Claudius would surely give up. Surely he would realize the futility of his purpose and lock her once again in her prison until he could find another surer way of publicly executing her.

Because she knew that was Claudius’ goal.

Claudius could have dealt with her privately. He could have had her beheaded or crucified on his property, but he wanted her to suffer the humiliation of a public death. Execution inside the arena would have provided the spectacle he lived for, but thus far, he’d been thwarted.

Claudius was as stubborn as she.

He was also of a twisted mind, she decided, when her opponent stepped from the shadows overhanging the arena to set foot upon the sand.

Claudius did not know what he’d wrought, pitting them against one another. If Claudius had sent this man to kill her, then he did not know how easily he’d just achieved her death, for Aurora would not fight him, not ever.

Had Claudius sent him into the arena first, instead of his many guards, this would have been over hours ago, she thought wryly.

Cyrus.

“I will not fight you,” she said when he halted before her.

His face appeared carved out of stone, hard and determined. “You will fight me, Aurora, or—”

“I will die?” Her heart stuttered to say the words. “If you can kill me then I do not wish to live.”

Aurora was surprised by the answering fury in his gaze. “Do not be foolish. The crowd favors you, they favor us both.”

She listened then. The chanting of her name alongside Cyrus’.

The champions of Capena.