“And that is?”
He smiled tightly. “As Caesar’s errand boy, of course.”
“You’re hardly an errand boy.”
“Oh, yes I am,” he said. “My father saw to it that I would find myself in a position that was both useful to him and, to his way of thinking, useful to me.”
“And have you found it useful?” I asked.
“I serve.” He shrugged again. “As far as useful . . . well, occasions such as this afford me the opportunity to brush elbows with my patrician betters, even if it means I have to stomach the company of the likes of Pontius Aquila for the evening.”
“The Tribune of the Plebs?” I asked. “The one people call the Collector?”
“Not to his face.” Cai grimaced.
“He and Caesar don’t seem overly fond of each other.”
Cai laughed softly. “You have a gift for understatement, Fallon. The Tribune is here tonight at Caesar’s invitation—an invitation he could hardly refuse—and it’s positively killing him to have to stand there making polite conversation all night. Which, I think, was Caesar’s intention. That and to flaunt his newest acquisitions.”
“Like Elka and me. Aquila tried to buy us,” I said, remembering. “That day in the Forum.”
Cai nodded, thoughtful. “Until the Lady Achillea swooped in with her sizable purse, yes. He has an insatiable thirst for the games, and his stables of fighters are almost as impressive as Caesar’s. Aquila is far from rich, but politically, at least, he’s a power to be reckoned with. Personally, I find the man—and his appetite for death in the arena—repugnant. But I’m required to be cordial because my father is an investor in several of Aquila’s ludi. One of which is the House Amazona.”
“The other gladiatrix school?”
“The same.”
“Our rival, then. But that means your father holds interests in direct competition with Caesar’s.” I looked up at him. “Isn’t that a conflict of loyalties for you?”
“I’m an officer in the Roman legion, Fallon,” he snorted. “And the son of a senator. It makes me impervious to moral conundrums.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. It was irritating, the way the Roman mind seemed to work. And the Roman mouth. Cai, as far as I could tell, could say one thing and mean another entirely, and he didn’t seem to find anything inherently confusing in that.
“But I will say this,” Cai continued, oblivious to my frustration. “If it hadn’t been for Pontius Aquila, I might never have met you. It was at his request that I was in Massilia to escort Charon’s galley. And barring that one moment when you tried to stab me, I found the experience . . . gratifying.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Gratifying?”
He smiled. “Extremely.”
I’d found that Latin could sometimes be tricky when it came to the exact meanings of words. But there was no mistaking the tone of Cai’s voice, nor the look in his eyes. I felt heat rising in my face. He found me attractive—that much was plain—but something had changed in his gaze since the first time he’d looked at me on the legion ship after the pirate attack.
“I’ve found myself wondering about the place you come from,” he continued. “About your tribe. I wonder, do they all fight like you do? Are the men as fierce as the women?”
“Is that a polite way of asking if the women of my tribe fight naked?” I asked.
I’d meant only to tease him, but his eyes went a bit wide, and I wondered if I had been far too bold. I had forgotten myself and spoken not like a slave but like his equal. Like the daughter of a king. Remembering Sorcha’s warning not to reveal my real station, I bit my tongue to keep from mentioning it again.
Cai didn’t seem to notice. “Why don’t we just leave my thirst for knowledge unslaked for the time being?” He grinned at last. “The air tonight is too cold for such a contest anyway.”
For a moment, we just stood there, looking at each other. It was the first time we’d shared a joke that wasn’t bitter or barbed. Cai’s grin widened to a smile and he gestured to a stone garden bench that stood just off the path. I followed and Cai sat down beside me, drifting into silence again. The smile faded on his lips as something else clearly occupied his thoughts.
“Fallon, I’ve been thinking,” he said finally, turning to meet my gaze. “I’ve watched dozens of men and women speak the oath you swore tonight. And I’ve seen just as many fulfill that oath on the arena sands. I never thought anything of it, but tonight it was different.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it was you.”
“I must have said the words wrong.” I laughed, suddenly feeling a little nervous.