Whisper (Riley Bloom 4)

My eyes darting wildly, searching for signs of Messalina or Theocoles—either would do—convinced that whichever one I found first, would lead me right to the other. I moved among the row of cells, rising up on my toes in an effort to peer into the small square openings marking the top, though it wasn’t until I reached the second to last one that I saw them. Messalina looking so pristine, so perfectly put together and groomed, she reminded me of a small, delicate, porcelain doll that somehow wound up in a landfill—as a handsome, tunic-clad Theocoles stood just before her—their bodies a mere razor’s width apart as they gazed longingly at each other.

I snapped my mouth shut before I could gasp, or squeal, or do anything that might alert them to my presence, gaping in wonder at the vision before me—the sight of it giving this Soul Catch a whole new meaning.

Despite their vast and varied differences in stature and class—despite their belonging to two different worlds—Theocoles and Messalina had been in love. And from what I could see, they still were.

But just when I thought I had it all figured out, Theocoles shifted and revealed something new.

I leaned closer, my cheek pressed hard against the rough, splintered wood, as I watched Theocoles shift to the side and position himself, before springing into the air, his legs kicking, sword slashing, piercing the air just beside where she stood.

And that’s when I realized the rest of it—that’s when I knew that while Messalina may have been gazing at him, Theocoles had not returned the look. He’d been staring right past her, still lost in his world.

But Messalina was not one to give up—she remained as stubborn as I knew her to be. And from the small square opening at the top of the door, I followed her progress as she eased her way around his thrusts and kicks, veering around him in a carefully choreographed dance.

Shouting as loud as she could, she fought to get the champion gladiator to take notice of her. Her voice fading, face growing increasingly frustrated, when he continued to ignore her in favor of his own tireless routine.

The scene so hopeless, dragging on for so long, I was just about to cut my losses and find my way back, when Messalina heaved a great sigh, found her way to the edge of his cot, where she sat, legs crossed daintily, hands folded primly, as she said, “Theocoles, I wish you would heed my words and please reconsider. You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to go through with this. I will gladly give you the money, so that all of this madness can end.”

Barely getting the words out before Theocoles stopped and turned, his gaze focused on hers, looking as though the light had come on, the fog had been cleared. He dropped his hands to his sides, leaned toward her, and said, “Your offer insults me—demeans me!” He shook his head, raked his fingers through his bangs, fixing his deep topaz eyes on hers. “Do you think me not worthy? Do you think I’ve come this far, slaughtered so many worthy opponents, only to make a spectacle of my own defeat?”

She looked at him, her face bearing so little expression, the words coming so quickly, so automatically I suddenly understood what was happening.

It was a performance.

They were both running lines from a scene they’d reenacted countless times.

Theocoles so immersed in the role it was clear that for him, it was no different than the fist time it happened. But for Messalina, the words were halfhearted, weary, spoken with no trace of emotion, like reading aloud from a textbook.

She’d tried to insert a new scene, tried to wake him up to a more modern day, but Theocoles remained stuck in a past he chose to live over and over again. Forcing Messalina to slip into the role she’d lived long ago in order to enjoy his attentions.

I pressed closer, strained to hear their words, knowing that if it was a scene he chose to relive then it was definitely a scene of great significance. It was not to be missed.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just anxious to begin our lives together,” Messalina said, her voice soft and tired.

“As am I.” He moved toward her, his gaze intense as he knelt down before her. “Everything I do is in anticipation of that day. Are you not aware of that?”

She cocked her head to the side and shot him a dubious look. “Everything you do is for me?” She pursed her lips, wrapped a loose curl around her index finger. “Are you quite sure of that? None of it is for Lucius?”

Theocoles paused, looked away, his face saddened, reflective, as he said, “There cannot be one without the other.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I’m afraid our fates are all bound together.” He reached toward her, brushed his finger across her brow, along the curve of her cheek, pressing the soft underside of her chin. He lifted her face until her gaze locked on his. “Now come, it is time we bid our good-byes in favor of rest.” He rose to his feet as she did the same. “My hope is that you will carry the sweet promise of our future straight into your dreams—and tomorrow, less than twenty-four hours from now, the world will be ours.”

Messalina smiled bravely, swiped a quick hand across her cheek, halting the renegade tear that sped down her face before Theocoles could see it. Her expression stoic, resigned, she took a step toward him and grasped his hand in hers, as I pushed away from the door and raced back down the corridor as fast as I could.

10

Despite having retraced my same steps—the second I reached the landing I saw that my destination was not quite the one I expected.

Not even close.

Instead of the glamorous party I’d left, I found myself outside, squinting into a harsh, glaring sun, surrounded by hundreds—no, scratch that—make that tens of thousands of toga-clad Romans, all of them pushing and shoving and fighting for someplace to sit.

“Aurelia!” A familiar voice rang out from behind me, as I gazed all around in confusion. “Aurelia, what on earth are you doing out here among the common masses?”

I felt a tug on the back of my dress, and turned to find Messalina smiling before me, her face radiant, her cheeks flushed the same light pink as the gorgeous new gown that she wore.

“If you’re done acquainting yourself with the lower classes, perhaps we can move on to my uncle’s box where it’s far less crowded, and far more welcoming with its abundance of food and drink and more importantly in this heat—shade!” She rolled her eyes and laughed, retrieving a gold-and-pink fan from the folds of her dress. She waved it under my chin in an effort to cool me. “Oh, and you might also like to know that Dacian has been making himself quite crazy, wondering if you’ll make an appearance—worried he might never get to see you again. I hear you’ve been quite naughty, playing hard to get.” She shot me a sly look, before she went on. “Truly, the boy is in a very sorry state. He just won’t let up! Keeps insisting I tell him whether or not he can expect you. Thou

gh I must say it’s been such great fun watching the poor boy suffer, I refuse to divulge much of anything.” She lifted her fan to her face, hiding all but her eyes. “It seems he’s quite smitten with you, now, isn’t he? The question is, what are you going to do about it? Are you smitten as well? C’mon, you can tell me, Aurelia—do you feel the same way as he?”

She looked at me, eyes shining, face beaming, waiting for an answer that never really came. I was too busy trying to figure out what had just happened—how the night had turned so swiftly to day—how I’d found my way to the Colosseum without even realizing it.