stepped quickly free of it, and whipped the cloth around my feet.
As a secutor, I often fought the retiarius, who went at his opponent with a trident and weighted net. I easily kicked aside the tangling folds, Tullius’s eyes widening as I came at him.
My intention was to knock Tullius down, take his sword from him, and deliver a blow that would stun him senseless. His fellow guardsmen would take him away and lock him up, and Cassia could hand over her evidence. Tullius would be Nero’s problem, and I could go home and sleep.
Tullius evaded me, and I heard Nero laugh as I chased him across the floor. Guards filled the entrances to the room, blocking Tullius’s way out.
He turned and faced me, sword held loosely in a practiced hand. Only the best of the legionnaires became Praetorian Guards, and they trained daily. Tullius moved lightly on the balls of his feet. He might not be able to escape, but he could kill me and Cassia and shut our mouths..
“Continue,” Nero said as I assessed Tullius. “Fight him, Leonidas. Here and now. My own gladiatorial game.” He smiled, entertained.
“No more killing,” I said quietly. “I’m not a gladiator anymore.”
Nero skewered me with an impatient stare then switched it to Cassia. “Are you certain your records, or whatever you have in that sack, will prove that this guard conspired against me?”
“Yes.” Cassia hugged the bag to her, fear on her face, but her answer rang with conviction.
“Good.” Nero returned to me. “To the death, Leonidas. If he lives I might pardon him. If he loses, you will be his executioner.”
I met Nero’s gaze before I quickly averted mine. I regarded the guards at the door, three on each, then Tullius, and finally Cassia, alone and protected only by Gallus. If Tullius won free, he’d kill her—I saw that in his eyes.
I flattened my lips, making my choice. “I’ll need a weapon.”
Chapter 24
Nero made an abrupt gesture to one of the guards. The guard came forward, grim-faced, unsheathed his sword, and handed it to me. His look at Tullius as he stepped away was one of unhidden disgust. Tullius could count on no help from him.
I closed my hand around the hilt, hefting the sword. It was different from the blade I carried in the games, the secutor, a short, stabbing sword. This was longer and heavier, with an edge that would slice.
I’d trained with many different weapons, though I preferred something more compact than what I held. I also was used to fighting in loincloth only, which though it made me more vulnerable, let me move freely. I’d have no arm or shin guards either, and no shield.
But even in tunic and boots, standing on cold marble instead of hot sand, I knew I could win.
The walls fell away. The sunshine of a warm Roman day fell upon me, and I heard the spectators begin to chant.
In the next instant, the games were gone, and I was in the dirt of Aemil’s ludus, jabbing my wooden sword at the posts alongside Xerxes while Aemil bellowed commands at us.
I saw Xerxes’s grin spread across his face before he turned on Aemil in a mock attack. That attack had him thrown to the ground, Aemil kicking him, Xerxes laughing all the way.
I thought I heard Xerxes now, his good-natured drawl behind me. You can take this feeble son of a whore, Leonidas.
I heard Aemil as well, his Gallic accent conspicuous. Watch him—he’s tricky. Even if he is a pretty Praetorian.
Xerxes again. He nearly killed you, murdered Floriana, and tried to attack Cassia. Don’t let him win, Leonidas. I’d be so ashamed.
Then the voice of Regulus, No more death? Stupid bastard. You’re a gladiator. You embody death. You’ll never leave it behind.
The voices faded, and the walls of the Circus Gai returned, along with the noise. Nero sat in his box in purple and gold, his jewels glittering in the sunlight.
I saw Tullius, his affability gone, a trained killer in his place. He raised his sword.
I ran at him, sidestepping at the last minute when he braced for my attack. While he readjusted to keep me in sight, I whirled, aiming the sword for his unprotected back.
Tullius ducked in time, using his momentum to spin in a circle away from my descending sword. Lithe and fast, he countered with his own sword, poised to thrust it upward into my heart.
I deflected the blow, and our blades rang. I hated having no shield, but