“Why didn’t you tell me before now?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Before just . . . just appearing in front of me—in front of everyone—like that! I’ve been living here in a cell all this time, and it never even occurred to you to let me know that you were still alive? That you owned me?”
At this, my sister had the good manners to grow flushed and look away. “You know nothing of the why of things, Fallon,” she muttered.
“You’re right,” I spat. “I only know I’ve grown up thinking my beloved sister was dead.”
“She is. I am not the girl you knew.”
“No. I suspect not. I’m sure Father would agree.”
I saw the fingers of Sorcha’s right hand clench. “He is well?”
“He lives.”
“I’m glad—”
“Broken and heartsick, as he’s been for years.”
The clenched hand again. Sorcha and my father had been so close. I knew it was cruel of me to say such things, but I was hurt. And angry.
“I never wanted that,” Sorcha said quietly. “And I certainly never wanted this.”
“What?”
“You.” Her eyes flicked back to my face, and her gaze was searing. “Here.”
The words felt like a slap in the face—hard and sharp and stinging. “Then why did you buy me?” I asked, furious with myself at the way my voice broke. “Why bring me here?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t because of how you fought at the auction!” she said sharply. “I thought I taught you better than that. That Alesian would have cut you in two in another moment if it hadn’t been for Elka stepping in to save your hide!”
We glared across the tent at each other. The whole argument suddenly felt like a moment plucked from my childhood when I’d once again done something dangerous or foolish. Or simply not good enough.
“I brought you here to keep you safe,” she said. “Because you were somehow foolish enough to be taken by slavers and lucky enough that one of them was Charon. I had to keep you from being sold into a situation a hundred times more dangerous. But to do that, I put the fate of every other girl in this ludus at risk.”
“I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”
“I don’t expect you to.” With a huff, she pushed herself up off her couch and strode over to a side table that held a wine jug and goblets. She sloshed a generous measure of dark red wine into one of the goblets and took a long drink before turning back to me. “You’re not in Durovernum anymore, Fallon. You’re here. And there’s not a damned thing either of us can do about it. You belong to this ludus now, and that means you belong to Caesar, and if any of the other lanistas knew who you were, they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me. I can’t be your sister here.”
“Or anywhere, it seems.”
She glanced at me sharply.
“Does he know who I am?” I asked sullenly. “Your lord and master, the mighty Caesar?”
Sorcha glanced sideways at Cleopatra, who’d remained silent throughout our entire exchange. I belatedly remembered that the foreign queen was Caesar’s consort, but she remained unruffled by my rudeness. She plucked a grape from the bunch on the plate in front of her and popped it into her mouth, her grin never wavering. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
“He does not know who you are or why I bought you.” Sorcha put her goblet down hard enough to rattle the other dishes on the low table. “No one does beyond the three of us here and Charon, whose silence on the matter I paid for handsomely. Here, you’re just another gladiatrix, and if the goddess is good, no one will ever know the difference.”
“Surely Caesar must wonder at the price you paid for me,” I said.
“I manage this academy on his behalf, and I’ve yet to give him cause for complaint. And even though your contract is made out in his name, it wasn’t his money.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
“I didn’t spend Caesar’s money.” She looked at me, her gaze unnerving in the growing light. “It was mine.”
“Well, obviously this life had been very good to you. I can see why you never came home—”
“I fought for every sestersii tooth and claw. I saved everything I won, and I was going to buy the Ludus Achillea outright. I would still operate it under Caesar’s name, but any girl who fought for me would do so as a free person. No more slaves. I had already pleaded my case to Caesar, and he was agreeable, so long as I had the money.”
I stared at her. “I didn’t think a woman in Rome could take that kind of control over her own fate,” I said.
Cleopatra leaned in. “That’s exactly what your sister said when I first suggested she buy the ludus years ago. And truthfully, there are those who would tell you it is so. Crusty old power-mad patricians who balk at giving any kind of power to the ‘weaker’ sex. But Caesar, for all he is called tyrant, is a man who will listen to reason if it’s to his ultimate advantage. Even—sometimes especially—when it comes from the lips of a woman. It’s why some of the senators fear him—and hate me.”
“Her Majesty has been a great friend to me during my time in Rome,” Sorcha said, nodding at the queen.