“There,” Sabina said, pointing at a dark gray tent set apart from both the ring of guards and the inner circle. It wasn’t as big as the family’s tents, but it was at least three times the size of any other.
Less than a minute ago, the rain had felt fresh and cool, but now Attia could feel a chill seeping into her bones. She wrapped her arms around her chest and walked through the encampment that was Timeus’s household. Four women huddled together in a tiny tent nearby, holding open the flap to let out the smoke from their small fire. They glanced at Attia and just as quickly dismissed her. Two of Timeus’s guards talked under the cover of another larger tent, sharing a cup of some steaming drink and laughing.
Attia quickened her pace until she reached Xanthus’s tent and pulled the flap open. A smokeless fire warmed the space, and after so much cold, the sudden heat made chills blossom along her skin.
Xanthus sat shirtless by the fire. When he heard her enter, he looked up with a smile. He already had a sheet and clean tunic set aside for her.
Attia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What’s this?”
“I thought you’d be soaked through in this rain,” Xanthus said as he handed her the linens.
“Thank you,” Attia said. She waited a moment. “Will you at least turn around?”
Xanthus turned obediently to face the wall of the tent, putting his back to Attia and the fire.
Attia used the sheet to dry her skin and get most of the water out of her hair. Then as quickly as she could, she undressed and pulled the clean tunic over her head. The frayed hem fell below her knees. “I feel like I’m wearing this tent,” she said. “But at least it’s dry. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Xanthus said as he turned around.
Attia took a seat beside him and accepted the proffered piece of hard bread and some dried beef.
“There will be more meat when we reach Pompeii.”
“This is plenty,” Attia said. She’d been worried that the awkwardness between them would continue, but she was surprised to find that they ate in rather comfortable silence.
Every now and then, her shoulder bumped his, or his elbow brushed against her knee. Small, fleeting touches that made Attia’s skin prickle. She was acutely aware of just how close they sat, but she didn’t move away, and she tried not to feel pleased by the fact that Xanthus didn’t either.
The food was long gone by the time either of them said anything again.
“I’m sorry that Timeus made you watch,” Xanthus said eventually, his voice hoarse.
It took Attia a few moments to realize he was talking about his match in the Coliseum. Neither of them had spoken of it in the days since, and Attia was surprised he was bringing it up now. She glanced at Xanthus then away.
“I see now why they call you the Champion of Rome. You were good. Incredible, really. But you hate it, don’t you? You hate what you do.”
Xanthus rubbed at the calluses on his palms. “I never thought death would be my calling.” His words were barely audible over the rain and the crackle of the fire.
Funny, Attia thought. I grew up thinking the exact opposite.
“I met a woman at the match,” Attia said. “Her name was Galena, but she said that the Romans had given her a new name.” She paused.
Xanthus’s body stiffened as he waited for her to continue.
“And there was something in your voice when you said the name Hector in the arena. I heard it before when you first told me that they call you Xanthus.”
His profile was illuminated by the glow of the fire, but his eyes were like dark emeralds. Shadowed. Murky. “I am a gladiator, Attia.”
“You weren’t always.”
“That was a long time ago,” he said, weariness heavy in his voice. “Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me. What is your real name?”
Xanthus’s lips tightened, and he trained his gaze on the far wall of the tent.
Attia waited. She’d never thought of herself as a patient person, but she decided that she could wait for this.
Finally, he said, “In another life, my name was Gareth, and I had a brother named Hector.”
Attia pursed her lips. She’d been expecting an answer along those lines, but hearing it still made her heart clench with fury and sorrow. “Do they take everything?” she murmured.
“It’s a different sort of branding.”
“Then why hasn’t Timeus tried to rename me?”
A pained expression crossed Xanthus’s face, and he hesitated again. “Because…” He swallowed hard and stared into the fire. “Because he wanted me to do it,” he said, his voice filled with shame.
Attia stared at him. “But you haven’t.”
Xanthus shook his head. “And I never will.”
“Timeus truly favors you.”
“He favors winning,” Xanthus said bluntly. “When I get old or start to lose my popularity, I’ll lose other things as well.”
“Like me?” Attia said. She’d meant to tease him, but the words came out sounding harsher than she intended.
An unexpectedly fierce expression transformed Xanthus’s features. His jaw clenched, and his brow furrowed into a deep scowl. “That won’t happen.” His eyes bore into hers, and Attia felt rooted to the earth. “No one will take you from me.”
She’d never seen that look on his face before—hot and cold at the same time. She imagined she should feel angry or resentful. He’d just sworn he’d never let her go, no matter what Timeus or anyone else might say. He spoke of death. He spoke of eternal bondage. But there was something else.
Past the furious light in his eyes, Attia saw something she’d been trying hard not to see. It was infinitely more dangerous to her than his hands or his hate, and suddenly, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She couldn’t keep turning away. She just had to know one thing.
“Would you force me to be with you? Regardless of what Timeus says—would you try to keep me against my will?”
The hurt that filled Xanthus’s eyes made her chest ache.
“No, Attia. I could never let anyone take you, but if you don’t want me, you only have to say so.”
Attia reached for his hand, and he took it immediately, wrapping his fingers around hers in a tight grasp. The simple touch wasn’t so much a show of affection as it was an expression of solidarity, of mutual comfort. For the first time in months, she didn’t feel so completely alone. Maybe, in spite of whatever else was forced upon her in this new life, whatever else might become of her, she could choose this one thing. Make this one single choice.
She raised her free hand to his cheek before passing her thumb lightly over his lips. Xanthus drew a shuddering breath. This time, when he reached for her, she didn’t pull away. She let the heat of him warm her skin, and she smiled at the expression of wonder on his face. Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against his.
They barely moved, just a slight shifting of warm skin on skin. Then their lips touched, and everything beyond them disappeared.