to the ground, blood gushing out of his mouth.
“Never turn your back on your opponent,” I snarl.
“Medicus,” Ductores yells, locking eyes with me over my fallen opponent.
He doesn’t reprimand, but the look on his face expresses his disapproval. The lesson was harsh, but gladiators learn best from pain. When I was new it’s what taught me. Besides, Antrias will live.
“You didn’t hit him that hard,” Xyron says, tossing another sword to me.
I catch the sword and swing it through the air.
“No, I didn’t,” I agree, falling into a defensive stance.
Xyron and I circle. He feints, and I step to the side swinging, but he blocks my blow and returns one of his own.
“You are distracted.”.
“You’re Secondus.”
“For now.”
“Think you can take me?”
“I’ll leave that for the arena,” he answers. “Can we defeat House Curtius?”
“I beat their Primus once.”
“Yet they move against us, stealing the humans.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“You don’t think they have them?”
“I do not believe they would do that, no,” I say. “The games of politics are dangerous waters, and nothing is what it seems.”
“So I’m seeing,” he says, closing with me on an attack. Our swords lock and he presses closer, his head next to mine. “We must free them.”
He whispers then breaks free. I glance around, but no one is close enough to have heard his words. I’m not sure I heard them right. Is he planning an escape? Has he lost his mind? Where would he escape to? And taking the females? Kiara and Adeline are capable warriors, but the others are not fighters.
“You telegraph,” I say.
He steps back and bows his head. “Thank you, Primus. Your insight is appreciated.”
He turns and walks off the training grounds. I watch him stride past Ductores. Ductores looks from Xyron to me then back at Xyron. Ductores frowns, his brow furrowing. He’s an Empatikus, which makes it especially hard to keep secrets from him.
I knew Xyron was a fool. Now I know he’s a damn fool. He’s playing a dangerous game.
Or is he on the right path? I had thought that in time Kiara would come to accept life here. In time find happiness with me. Am I wrong? Is freedom the answer? If so, how?
Chapter 8
Kiara
Life has become a constant. Shovel shit all morning, train all afternoon, dinner, a bath, and lie in bed waiting for Anzil to sleep. I offered to switch with him and take the floor so he could have his bed back, but that argument didn’t go far. He insists, and I’m sore enough that I’m not going to fight hard about it.
Problem is, I’m exhausted. We’re up at the crack of dawn, have a fast breakfast, then are working. I’ve got pains in muscles I didn’t know I had. Everything hurts, and no matter how hard I try to stay awake, I fall asleep before he does. Twice I managed to stay awake until I thought he was out, but when I slipped out of bed, he sat up, staring.
I wonder if this isn’t all part of an elaborate plan by Ductores. Did Anzil tell him I got out again? Judging solely by the guards, I don’t think so. If Anzil had told them I got out, I’m sure they would have done something to improve their watches.
What passes for security is laughable. It’s a puppet show, security theatre put on to make Dominus and Domina feel good. In reality I’m amazed they haven’t been assassinated long before now. Either the people on this planet are all as stupid as the guards, or they don’t take their internal struggles that far.
Anzil sits with me at meals, making sure none of the other men get a chance. I see their jealous looks, but he’s the primus, which means he gets what he wants. At least up to anything the Dominus lets us have.
I’ve barely seen Dominus, our master, since I returned. He’s busy doing whatever asshole slave owning gladiator trainers do. I’ve heard rumors of how he treats the regular slaves, and more than once I’ve caught the female ones crying in a hidden corner. Nothing would make me happier than to give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe eventually I’ll be able to make that happen. Nothing I can do about it now, though, so I focus on my food and ignore the looks.
“You were never on a planet before Krix?” Anzil asks.
“No,” I say. “I’m part of the third generation born on a ship.”
“Why did your people make such a journey? Was