Cai nodded. “For now,” he said. “Charon’s men might be slavers—”
“And pirates and miscreants and ruthless whenever it serves them to be—”
“But they’re good.”
They were. And so was Cai.
If I’d been on that galley for any other reason, I could have blissfully lost myself to the warm, fragrant breeze, the splendor of the sea and sky, and the fact that we were the only ship in sight. However Charon and his men had done it, he’d been true to his word. They’d gotten us down the river, past the port of Ostia, and out onto the open sea.
I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Charon was, after all, a master of stealth and secrets, and he was motivated. He’d once told me that he’d been hopelessly in love with my sister for years. I hadn’t forgotten, and I’d shamelessly used those old affections when we’d plotted our escape. Cai knew it. And he hadn’t objected to the blatant manipulation when I’d suggested he reach out to the slave trader for help in securing transportation.
“I hope you’re never taken captive again,” Cai said. “I’m pretty sure this little adventure will tax Charon’s goodwill to the limit, and I don’t know where I’d find another boat.”
“But you would.” I grinned. “Somehow.”
Cai nodded, but I could see his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. His gaze was distant, focused somewhere toward the horizon where the hills of Rome had long since vanished behind us. I sensed somehow, without even asking, that he was thinking about his argument with Kass, and I felt my stomach clench a bit. I wondered if he’d regretted leaving her behind . . .
“Cai?”
“Hmn?” He blinked and looked back at me.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, realizing what a strange question that might have been, under the circumstances.
He smiled at me. “Are you here, now, with me?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Then everything is absolutely perfect.”
He kissed me, and left me to go scrounge us something to eat. I rose and stretched and put Kassandra out of my mind. What Cai had said was true—as long as we were together, everything was fine. As I stretched, I felt the pull of the healing skin around my injury, but I no longer experienced any sharp pain with it. That was a relief. I needed to be in fighting trim for what lay ahead of us. Whatever that might be. The wound on my forearm—the one from Aquila’s demon-forged silver feather—still tingled a bit when I thought about it, but I tried very hard not to think about it. My strength had not left me, and my fingers still clenched into a tight strong fist at my command. I raised that fist in front of my face and stared at my pale-skinned knuckles for a long moment. When I released my grip my fingers opened wide like the wings of a bird.
“He has no hold on me,” I whispered to myself as I shook the blood back into my fingertips. “My strength is the Morrigan’s strength. She will not forsake me.”
The sails had been raised and the oars shipped once we’d reached the open sea. They snapped and billowed above my head. There was a water barrel on deck, and I went to quench my thirst, passing Arviragus, who stood at the railing on that side of the ship, staring out at the horizon and lost in thought. I noticed his complexion, already pale from years of imprisonment in his sunless cell, was tinged with a slightly greenish cast. But there was also a new, sharp glint in his eyes, and the way he lifted his head to the freshening wind and gulped at it—like a long-kenneled dog let loose on the hunt for the first time—made me offer a silent prayer of gratitude to the Morrigan for leading me to him in my delirium. He was free again. And whatever else happened, that, in itself, was a gift I’d never expected to be able to give.
I smiled to myself as I wandered back to settle down on the stack of folded sailcloth I’d slept next to, waiting for Cai to return with breakfast. My stomach actually growled at the thought of food, and I took that as a good sign for my returning strength.
The other girls were scattered in small groups spread out along the deck. Some of them, I suspected, had never been out on the open sea before. And even for those who had—myself and Elka included—it was a disconcertingly foreign experience. Not just the motion of the ship on the waves, but the fact that the land had disappeared behind us, with nothing to indicate that there was anything but water and more water ahead. I saw more than one fearless gladiatrix glance nervously out over the rolling waves, searching for terra firma.
Eventually, though, the unease gave way to mere queasy boredom.
“What’s the matter with them?” Cai asked me once we’d finished breakfast and the sun had climbed high into the sky. He too had sensed the growing restlessness among my fellow gladiatrices.
“I think they need something to keep them occupied,” I said.
Cai pondered that for a moment, then said, “I have an idea.”
He gestured me over to the side of the ship and reached over the rail to hoist up two of the round shields that decorated the sides. I laughed and shook my head. “Do you remember what happened the last time you and I fought and there was a shield involved?” I asked.
“You cracked my rib.” He grinned back at me. “How could I possibly forget?”
“And you want to risk that again?”
“I do not.” He shot me a look from under a raised eyebrow. “Between you and that bear, I’ve recently found myself inclined to watch others hurt themselves instead.”
“Oh, I like the sound of this,” Quintus said, wandering up.
I’d noticed Quint had no trouble with his sea legs. Likely the result of having come from a Corsican fishing village, where he’d probably learned to ride the bobbing waves astride a skiff before he could walk on land.
“You like the sound of what?” Elka asked, pushing herself up from where she’d been dozing fitfully on a deck bench.
“Fighting,” Cai said. “Us against you. Well, Quint against you.”
Elka snorted and knotted her arms across her chest, eyeing Quint up and down. “Your kind doesn’t fight, soldier boy,” she said. “You just hide behind your shields and wait until the real warriors tire themselves out.”
“That’s not true!” Quint protested. “Also? It’s called strategy. And it’s not as easy as you’d think.”
One by one, the other girls wandered up to join us, drawn by battle talk.
“You fight like insects,” Vorya sneered. “It’s mindless. Boring.”
“I didn’t know war was supposed to be entertaining,” Quint countered.
“Then you’ve never seen us fight,” Kore said, and earned a shoulder punch from Thalassa. “Or you wouldn’t say such a thing. We’d get your blood pumping, that’s for sure!”