"What was that about?" I asked in bewilderment after recounting the weird interaction from the other day.

  Praxedes shrugged. "Maybe he was just tired after a long day of training. If he's like that again, then you'll know he has a problem."

  It had been a short day for her and Corvus, just enough to keep them limber and primed for tomorrow, but not enough to exhaust them. Caelum and Flavia had stopped in with her, although he didn't stay long.

  "A couple idiots decided to see how far they could throw each other into the bath," he grumbled.

  On the bright side, that reminded me that the ludus had a small bathhouse for the gladiators. I could probably use it in the morning before opening. At the very least, it would be far less crowded than the public one.

  "That sounds like it could be really bad," I commented, afraid to hear what happened.

  "Thankfully, no. Less work for me. It seems like it's only a dislocation, but I'm letting him squirm a little as a deterrent against doing something equally stupid in the future." Caelum rubbed his hand over the tightly coiled spirals on his head. He wore the long suffering look of someone who has had to deal with more than their fair share of consequences to ridiculous antics.

  "Maybe if you dislocated the other shoulder the pain will even out," Flavia mused with a smile.

  He laughed. "Don't tempt me." Standing, he rested a hand on Praxedes's shoulder. "You know I'll be ready and waiting for the both of you tomorrow. But do your best, as you always do. I'd rather not have to see you as a medic."

  She reached over to pat Caelum's hand appreciatively. "Don't worry. You won't." Her voice was cool and confident. "Unless it's to celebrate."

  When he left, she turned on me. "Okay, daughter of Felix. You know a lot about all of us gladiators. But what little we know about you is probably the man's completely biased opinion. You're his favorite thing in the world it would be annoying if it wasn't sweet."

  My heart stuttered. “Really?”

  Flavia nodded emphatically before casting a sly glance at Praxedes. "Although I do know she's really good at flirting."

  The gladiatrix turned bright red. "Does everyone know about that?" she screeched.

  "Just drink your juice," Flavia responded calmly.

  Praxedes raised her eyebrows before breaking out into giggles. "It was pretty nice. I'm just happy I experienced it and not Ursus. And I swear that you would've believed it too if you were there, you hermit."

  The murmillo ignored her, sipping her smoothie.

  "Interesting," I observed, leaning back with a grin.

  "What?"

  "Nothing." I shook my head. "Maybe I'll tell you later."

  She huffed but let it go. We spent a while longer chatting and I told them about some of my own antics with Saturnia, including the time we convinced some poor man that cows could talk to him.

  "Bring her over next time," she said as Flavia stood. "But for now, we're going to the public bathhouse and I'm going to relax." The last word came out forcefully, as if she were trying to convince herself. "What do I owe you, again?"

  I tilted my head. "Tell you what. Let's make a bet. You win tomorrow and its free. Deal?"

  She smiled. "Deal."

  The courtyard filled up again shortly after they left and I worked through a flurry of orders.

  "Discordia for Livia," I called out, setting another smoothie on the bar.

  I was glad for the rush, however. Not just for the business, but because it also kept my mind off of things. I shuddered, recalling one of the Solis practices that Ursus shared. One warrior would be chosen to wear the flayed skin of the previous one in the ritual, given a year to live wildly before meeting the same end. I understand how it was meant to represent death and the rebirth of life, but why did it have to be so violent?

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "You look sick," Corvus said, causing me to glance up. He assessed me with a slightly skeptical look. Actually, it was probably just his eye again.

  "Oh, no. I just..." I considered him carefully. "I was just thinking how it makes sense why the Senate didn't want to share too much information about Solis. Drink for Livia!"

  "Oh. I see." He drummed his fingers on the bar. "I'm more curious about why they were brought here to begin with."

  I pursed my lips, thinking. "It's like how you can't get better without challenging yourself. Maybe Aeterna needs to prove it's still the best. It can't really do that to itself."

  "Hm. You might be right. But by Janus" he said, running a hand over his face. “I wish it didn't have to be so damned secretive.”

  Shifting, I leaned around him. "Livia, your drink is ready," I announced again before bringing my attention back. I had also been thinking about what Tiberius said earlier, unable to decide if I wanted to hide here anxiously or watch the fight. "Corvus, do you like when people watch you fight?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "Part of the job as a gladiator is to get the crowd to like you. And the more people chanting your name, the braver you feel. Trick is to not let it make you careless."

  I bit my lip as I poured him some of the Fortis Aqua. "Okay."

  "So, yes. It would mean a lot if you and your friend cheered for us." His blue eyes were sharp on me.

  Nodding, I made up my mind. I would close Invictus Shakes for the day and watch the first of the spring games. I was about to speak again when a woman stomped over.

  "Excuse m—oh," she said, looking at Corvus and blushing. She cleared her throat and fiddled with her necklace. An inviting smile appeared on her face as she leaned in almost conspiratorially to him. "Word of advice, the service here is terrible. I've been waiting for a quarter of an hour and it seems the staff are more concerned with chatting with attractive men like you."

  "You think so? I'll have to complain to the owner on your behalf then." The woman giggled as he turned to me, rolling his eyes. "Max, you left this poor woman unattended," he said flatly.

  A hint of uncertainty flit across her face at his familiarity with me. I smiled brightly at her.

  "Is your name Livia?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you're drink is waiting. I called your name three times," I said, pointing.

  Her shoulders tensed defensively. "I—well, I-I couldn't hear you," she sputtered. “I didn't expect to do half your work for you and get it myself! And look at this mess. It's all separated now!"

  Corvus plucked it from her hands and swirled it violently. "There," he said, handing it back and nodding to me. "Good luck. I'm going to go stuff myself with more of that fried fish you gave me yesterday."

  He left and Livia stood there frozen, not looking at me. Once she was sure he was gone, she slammed the cup down and dashed out, covering her face in embarrassment. One of her friends half stood, calling after her in confusion before shrugging and sitting back down. I snorted, wondering if she'll ever come back here. Probably not.

  Felix brought the crate of empty cups shortly after the last patron cleared out. I wouldn't let him do it every day, but it was endearing and maybe slightly sad to see how pleased he was to help me. Or do something unrelated to fighting. I needed to find him a nicer side project.

  That evening, we sat in the atrium after eating a plain dinner of porridge and meat. Although he was now as wealthy as a patrician, he still preferred to live simply. He offered to change it when I got older—a multi-course feast of fine dishes accompanied by entertainment like instruments or poetry readings. But I refused, relenting only when I saw his crestfallen face.

  "Maximilia. Let me spoil you," he had begged.

  Now we have a moderately rich feast twice a week, often inviting Saturnia and her family or other retired gladiators. But none from the ludus—not while they still fought.

  Taking a sip of wine from where I reclined on the couch, I asked him how he felt about the fight tomorrow. "Do you think they're prepared?"

  He looked up at the stars, where the gods were woven into the sky. "As prepared as they can be for the unexpected."

  I sat up, listening.

  "Everytime you step into that arena, you can be met with something unplanned. Sometimes even a beginner can be more dangerous than an experienced opponent, because they had no technique or rhythm to read. This is no different. All that matters is if they can adapt to the situation or force the opponent to fight within their rules."

  Felix fell silent, still looking up through the opening in the roof, and I could tell he was reliving a moment. I got up and sat beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. Eventually whatever memory he was seeing faded and he sighed.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  His response was slow. "Sometimes I wonder if I should brace myself to never see them again. But that would mean I have doubts about them, and that I left out some part of me to prepare them. Even part of my spirit. The gods can feel it and I refuse to tempt fate that way."

  My chest tightened with guilt. "I'm sorry I never paid more attention to you during these times. I should have known.” Or maybe I'd chosen to be blind.

  He kissed the top of my head. "The most important thing to me is seeing you live well, daughter."

  "Don't all parents just say that?"

  "Perhaps. But it makes it no less true for me." He finished his glass of wine and changed the subject. "When you stole that juggler's pins the other night, the two of you started tossing them at people, telling them to catch their new year's gift." He chuckled. "That was the hardest laugh I had all year."

  "But the year just started," I said, pursing my lips.

  He smiled warmly. "Then more to look forward to."