Whisper (Riley Bloom 4)

Though Messalina didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by my silence, she just smiled brightly, crooked her arm in offering, and beckoned for me to follow alongside her.

Her smile plastered to her face, refusing to fade even after I said, “No.” I crossed my arms before me and shook my head for emphasis, causing my thick blond curls to brush against my cheeks. “I need to find Theocoles—as you well know.” I stared at her in challenge, noting the way her brow shot halfway up her forehead as her lips quirked to the side.

“Well, of course you’ll see Theocoles,” she said, her voice light but forced, her eyes moving over me slowly, conducting a very thorough inventory. “Don’t be silly, Aurelia—he’s the main attraction, is he not?” She shook her head and tsked, her tongue tapping the roof of her mouth. “Everyone will see him today, to be sure. After all, he is the reason we’re all here. Though I’m afraid you may have a bit of a wait; he’s not scheduled to fight until later in the day. So come now, enough of this nonsense.” She tilted her head to the side and offered her hand, fingers beckoning as she said, “Why don’t you join me?” But when I didn’t, when I didn’t make a move either way, she leaned closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Oh, you’re right. Before we get to all that we really must attend to your dress. Perhaps you need a little freshening up, no? After all, Dacian is in quite a stir, and we don’t want to disappoint him, now, do we?”

I gazed down the front of my dress, noting that, yeah, it was a little wrinkled, a bit dust-covered from my time spent in the ludus, a little bit worse for the wear, but still nowhere near as tragic as she seemed to think. But just as I started to protest that I was just fine, that I wasn’t about to follow her anywhere until she explained a few things, she looked at me with those warm brown eyes, lifted a cool hand to my brow and brushed a finger lightly against it, and the next thing I knew I was agreeing to it all. The dress, the hair, the jewels, the luxurious box that her uncle owned, which also, according to Messalina, was the best, most important, most comfortable, most sought-after spot for viewing the games.

“You should consider yourself quite lucky to sit there,” she said.

And the thing is, I did feel lucky. I felt really, really incredibly lucky, in more ways than one. Every single thing that had once been missing from my afterlife was now in my grasp.

I’d been longing for a good friend, a friend so close we were like sisters—and I’d found it in Messalina.

I’d been longing for a chance at a bit of fun and romance, and because of Messalina, I’d found it in Dacian.

I was one of the privileged few. I was lucky, lucky, lucky. My life was wonderfully good. And it was all because of her.

The moment we entered the box, Messalina let go of my arm and hung back. Watching with an amused smile as Dacian rushed toward me, went about the whole bowing/ hand-kissing ritual, before leading me to the seat beside his, where I pretended to listen as he chatted on and on about the day’s program.

There were wild-game hunts in the works, a group of prisoners to be executed, and bippidy blah blah, on and on he went. Having no idea that I was well beyond caring—immersed in a land where the only things that interested me were how amazing I looked in my new lavender dress—and how amazing I felt whenever Dacian’s eyes flitted toward mine.

“And then of course once that’s all said and done then it’s time for the great Theocoles, who’s set to defend his title as the Pillar of Doom. As I mentioned last night, this may well turn out to be his very last fight. I suspect that’s why the Colosseum is filled to capacity—he’s a very big draw. Many of the spectators have already placed their bets on his fate, and I must admit, you can count me among them. In fact …”

His words faded, edged out by the one that continued to play in my head: Theocoles.

Why did the name hold such importance?

Why should I even care about the fate of some gladiator slave who could very well be facing his final day?

I leaned back in my seat, confused by the way the name made me feel.

“Did you say it was his … last fight?” I turned toward Dacian, aware of a vague yet insistent nudge coming from someplace deep within me, egging me on.

Dacian nodded. “Theocoles has more than just his life riding on this fight—and no matter the outcome, it promises to be quite a spectacle, indeed.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, caught up in the excitement of being the first to inform me. “He’s garnered himself quite the fan club, as you will soon see. And it’s not just because the stakes are so high, but because he knows how to put on a show. In just a short amount of time he’s learned how to win over the crowd. Theocoles discovered early on that an important part of a gladiator’s survival is not just skill with a sword and a drive to conquer and win—but also to ensure that the crowd stays entertained. It’s not enough just to slay your opponent—the crowd will tire of that rather quickly. Blood and gore—blood and gore …” He made a bored face. “As you will see, by the time all the ravaged carcasses are dragged from the arena, the crowd will have already witnessed several hours of slaughter, and after a while, one grisly battle can begin to fade into the next. A real gladiator, a champion gladiator such as Theocoles, remains well aware of this fact, and therefore they take it among themselves to choreograph their battles to provide maximum entertainment, to ensure the crowd’s attention stays riveted on them.”

I hung on his every word, committing it to memory as I struggled to take it all in. The intense look in my eye causing Dacian to say, “Oh no.” He shook his head in mock horror. “I can see I’ve said too much. I can see it in the gleam in your eyes, your heart is already captured, and now it’s just a matter of time before I’ll be forced to throw myself into the arena in order to win your affections!”

He laughed when he said it, but somehow the joke washed right over me. For some strange reason I chose to take his words seriously. “What? No!” I shook my head, caught off guard by—well, by just about everything. “Please, you must not do so on my account,” I added, the words awkward, stumbling right out of my mouth.

“Don’t do what on your account?” Messalina crept up from behind me, her movement fluid, catlike, grinning in a way that left me wondering just how long she might’ve been listening as she draped herself over the back of my chair.

“It seems, I’ve made the mistake of getting Aurelia a little too well-versed in the games. She’s obsessed, I can tell. He has yet to appear in the arena, and already I have lost her to the legend that is Theocoles.”

“Aw, the Pillar of Doom.” Messalina laughed, though the sound was not light, and her eyes failed to shine.

“You said he was set to go free?” I leaned toward Dacian. “Does this have something to do with Lucius?”

Dacian looked confused, though he was nowhere near as confused as I felt. Where had the name come from? What was I even talking about?

Just as the memory began to resurface—a fleeting glimpse of the conversation I witnessed between Messalina and Theocoles in his cell when I’d first heard the name—Messalina tapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “If Theocoles shall be crowned today’s victor, his winnings will be enough to cover the gambling debts Lucius owes, which in turn will secure Lucius’ freedom, as he currently works in the quarries, a horrible fate to be sure.” She rubbed her arms, gave a little shiver, though her eyes never left mine. “It will also conclude th

e contract Theocoles holds with my uncle, which in turn will free him as well. It is a very important day for both of them, indeed.”

“So that means Theocoles volunteered?” My eyes met Messalina’s as a new understanding began to take shape. “And that’s why you …”

“That’s why I what?” she said, and the moment her eyes met mine, I was no longer sure. What was crystal clear a moment before had vanished just as quickly.

Dacian’s voice cutting into my cloudy, vague thoughts when he said, “His brother got in a bit over his head.” He scoffed, made a face, leaving no doubt as to how he felt about that.