“He was fond of you too,” I said, wiping at the fugitive tear that had escaped my lashes and slipped down my cheek.
Kallista and the other young Amazons had gone into the hills hunting for Thalestris, only to return with unbloodied weapons. I knew before they went that the search for their murderous sister would prove fruitless. In the same way I knew that Thalestris could just as easily have chosen me or Sorcha as her target with that spear throw.
She’d chosen Leander. A punishment for him, a fulfillment of her promise.
And a message for us. We hadn’t seen the last of her.
I could tell from the look on Sorcha’s face as we stepped together back out onto the path to continue on our way that she was thinking the same thing.
“I will avenge his death, little sister,” she said, at last, without looking at me. “Thalestris will pay in blood for her betrayals. For all of her betrayals. And so will Nyx.”
I felt a sudden fierce swell of vindication at the sparks of Sorcha’s old fire I saw kindling to life. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Sorcha glanced at me sideways. “And why is that?” she asked warily.
“Because . . .”
I picked up my pace, like a hound on the hunt that had finally caught the scent of the quarry. The trees opened up before us, and in the distance far below, the sparkling blue bowl of the bay shimmered into view—along with the ship, still anchored there, that would take us all home.
“Don’t tell me . . .” Sorcha said. “It’s all part of your clever plan.”
XIV
OUR SHIP BOUNDED over the waves, the breath of the wind god, Zephyrus, filling our sails and speeding us on our way. There was an air of anticipation among the girls, even if there was a pall of uncertainty too. I could hardly blame them—the closer we sailed to Rome, the more I was beginning to worry that I hadn’t really thought my clever plan of retaking the ludus all the way through to its logical conclusion. For one thing, even though her spirit seemed on the mend, to say that Sorcha had been less than convinced of her part in the scheme would be putting it lightly.
When we’d first gathered to discuss our options, I began by telling her what we were up against. When she heard everything that had passed at the ludus since her abduction, Sorcha was aghast. Furious. Disgusted and enraged by Pontius Aquila’s machinations.
“Rebellion.” Sorcha’s lip curled as she said the word. “Within the walls of my ludus. What a load of horse manure.”
“A lie, and a foul one,” Charon agreed. “But it’s one that resonates deeply. We all know that, and we all know why.”
“Aye. Thanks be to Spartacus the Interminably Unforgotten,” Sorcha snorted in disdain.
At which point, Elka had sighed gustily.
“Will someone please enlighten me?” she asked. “What does any of this—what do any of us—have to do with this Spartacus fellow? His name keeps getting bandied around, and I can’t quite figure out why.”
Cai turned to her. “It’s been only a few years since Spartacus, the legionnaire-turned-slave-turned-gladiator, fomented an uprising that led to a war that directly threatened the heartland of Italia,” he explained. “Some even thought he and his followers were bent on taking the city of Rome itself. The plebs haven’t forgotten, and the patricians haven’t forgiven. Talk of gladiators and rebellion in the same sentence makes people . . . excitable.”
“Nervous,” Quint added.
Charon nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on Sorcha’s face.
“And now Aquila has laid the groundwork for the story of a gladiatrix rebellion at the ludus to become the official interpretation,” I mused. “We will be branded as criminals and traitors to the Republic. We will be hunted down mercilessly and crucified. Unless we stop him first.”
“Stop him how?” Sorcha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing.
“We use the plebs—and their excitability—against their Tribune.”
“I’m listening . . .”
“We can’t retake the ludus by sheer force,” I said. “Not without an army—one that Caesar would never give us for the simple fact that Aquila has possession of the written deed to the place, signed over to him by Thalestris. Even if you were to step forward now and reassert your claim, I don’t know that it would do any good. It’s unlikely to be general knowledge that Aquila has seized the ludus through deceit.”
“The legalities are doubtless tricky,” Cai said, scratching at the stubble of his chin and thinking over the implications. “It would have to go before the courts, and that could take months if not years to settle.”
“And Caesar,” I said, “as I’ve come to understand, is a stickler for legalities.”
“He has to be.” Quint shrugged. “It’s all in the public perception.”
“Right,” I continued. “So—as I said—we use the public to our advantage, and we call Aquila out.”
Cai’s eye glinted. “Call him out?”
“Issue a challenge. A very public challenge.” I could feel my own fierce excitement brewing over the idea. “Before Aquila has the chance to perpetuate the myth of a rebellion, we meet him head-on and quash that fiction.”
“How do we do that?” Elka asked.
“We announce a match,” I said. “A big one—just like the ones in the Circus Maximus—but to take place in the field outside the Ludus Achillea. Set a date and a time, and let it be known that the main attraction of the day will be a rematch between Victrix of the Triumphs and her nemesis, Nyx—a gladiatrix contest to end all contests! Throw the promise of a wolf pack of wild Amazons into the mix and they’ll be salivating for such a spectacle.”
Elka was grinning at me fiercely.
Cai gazed at me with something approaching amazement.
Quint, though, wasn’t entirely convinced. “What if she doesn’t come out?” he said. “What if Aquila doesn’t rise to the bait?”
At that, Elka laughed and slapped him on the back. He sputtered a bit and turned pink, whether from the heat of the slap or of her attention, I couldn’t tell.
“You don’t know that bitch the way we do,” she said. “A chance to even the score with Fallon? She’d reach down Aquila’s throat and pull his guts out his mouth if he dared to stand in her way.”
Quintus turned to me. “And you think it’s a good idea to fight this creature. Carry on, then.”
“I have some ideas about that too,” I said, glancing over at Sorcha.
She cocked her head and regarded me warily, but for the moment, I held my peace. Those ideas—specifically as to what her role might very well be in the whole drama—were still not fully formed, and so I kept them to myself. For the moment. My mind flashed back, as it had done for the last few days, to the docks and the last conversation I’d had with Meriel before she’d sacrificed herself for my escape. She was right: I’d never truly beat Nyx in a one-on-one fight. The chariot crash that ended our rivalry during the Triumphs had, in many ways, been the result of teamwork. And sheer bloody-minded luck. And so Quint’s sardonic concern for my well-being in such a matchup wasn’t entirely without merit.
I didn’t know that I could beat Nyx in a duel.