The waiting was the hardest part. The door was locked from the outside and, even if the gladiator could have broken it down, that would have been much too loud.

So we sat in the dark, in a strange sort of silence, waiting. It wasn't exactly awkward or strained. But it was unsettling to sit in a dark room, able to hear his steady breath. To know I was sitting in this small room with what was effectively a perfect stranger.

The only time it was broken was when he asked, "What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, genuinely curious.

There was a small shifting sound that I thought might have been a shrug. "I would like to know who I'll be running for my life with." I could hear the smile in his voice. He was quiet for a moment, waiting, then said, "Damianus."

"What?" 

He snorted softly. "My name. It's Damianus."

After another moment's hesitation, I managed, "Abelia."

"Is that your real name?"

I blinked, confused for a moment. Then understanding clicked into place. "My mother died when I was very young. If she had another name for me, I never had the chance to learn it."

He made a small sound of what I suspected was pity, but didn't say more. I bit at the inside of my lip, but my curiosity proved too much. "How did you come to..." My question stalled, my nerves getting the better of me.

If he had been a free man, the story of how he'd fallen into slavery was likely something he wouldn't want to discuss.

"How did I come to fight in the arena?" he offered wryly.

I nodded, then realized he obviously couldn't see that. Blushing furiously, I managed, "Yes."

A long sigh gusted from Damianus and he kept quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I was one of the legionaries at Carrhae."

"Oh," I said on a soft breath. The defeat of Crassus' legions in May by the Parthians had rocked through the empire. They had been completely obliterated, losing several eagles and bringing shame to Rome.

"A few survived the battle. Most who did were taken prisoner by the Parthians and sent to the far eastern edge of their empire." Damianus got to his feet, pacing restlessly along the short distance of the room. "I was knocked unconscious sometime during the end of the battle." Shame tinged his voice at the admission. "When I came to, the only thing around me for miles were the bodies of my comrades."

I closed my eyes, horror making tears well in my throat.

"I was found by the vultures who came to pick over the legionaries' bodies. The blow to the head I'd taken left me too addled to fight. They clapped me in irons and the next thing I knew, I was on a ship bound west." His pacing stopped. "I was sold to a man in Iberia. He sold me again to a lanista traveling to Rome."

"Why did you not tell the man who bought you that you were free? A legionary?"

"A legionary who wasn't with his legion?" Damianus scoffed and began pacing again. "I would be labeled a deserter and crucified. Or fed to the lions. I might not love being a gladiator, but at least I have the chance to fight for my life."

Again I bit at my lip, thoughts spinning. What a horrible fate to be dealt—to give your life and blood to the empire, just to have that same empire turn on you, see you as nothing more than a piece of meat, to die for its amusement instead of its glory.

And now he was intent on running from that empire. From the place of his birth.

I opened my mouth, but as soon as I did, a footstep sounded in the hallway accompanied by the sinister clank of chains.

Damianus breathed, "Stay silent. If you scream, we'll be found."

I shot a glare at him as the lock snapped open. "Get dressed, gladiator," Gemellus said as he opened the door, the dim light from the hall overwhelming my eyes. "Back to the arena—"

His words were cut off in a startled gurgle. The smell of copper flooded the small space and I scrambled out of the way as Damianus heaved the guard's body farther into the room, blood still pulsing from the gash that had been opened in his throat.

"Come," the gladiator whispered, grabbing my hand. His rough palm scraped my skin as he tugged me over Gemellus' body and through the door. My knees suddenly wavered and I jerked away, leaning against the wall. Damianus sighed softly, tucked the knife into the belt of his pteruges and turned to stand in front of me.

I sucked in a startled breath when he cupped my face, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. His mouth was a grim line when he ducked his head to meet my eyes. "I need you to take me to my weapons," he said, voice brooking no argument. "We need to leave Rome. Now."

The order gave me something to cling to. Something to focus my mind on, other than the dead body currently cooling in my room.

I gave a jerky nod, turning to lead him toward the front door. I wasn't sure that the gladiator's weapons would be near the guard, but couldn't think of any other place they would be kept. Master wouldn't leave them some place the slaves might get their hands on them. And he wouldn't want to be woken so early in the morning to return them to the gladiator. 

Damianus followed along silently. I couldn't even hear his breath.

Every muscle in my body quavered nervously as I peeked around the corner of the hallway leading to the atrium. A few torches were still burning. Enough for me to see the glint of fire off iron. Damianus let out a low growl as we watched the guard holding one of his short swords up to the light before twirling it in his hand, blade sweeping through the air.

Damianus' hands came down on my shoulders and he forcibly turned me toward the wall. "Don't watch," he whispered in my ear.

He might as well have suggested I didn't breathe.

I turned around just in time to watch Damianus dart across the floor of the atrium, the dagger held ready in his hand. Just like Gemellus, the guard at the door didn't have so much as a chance. Smooth as silk, the gladiator swept up behind him, grabbed the hand holding the sword and sank the dagger into the back of the guard's neck.

Damianus caught the man against him, lowering him slowly to the floor. Then he pulled the dagger from the man's neck, cleaning the blade on the guard's tunic. He snatched up his sword before ducking into the alcove beside the door. He emerged with the other sword and their sheaths. 

With brisk efficiency, he buckled the sheaths onto his back, sliding the swords home with practiced ease. Then he looked up. I could feel how large my eyes were and the skin of my face felt frozen. His chest moved with a sigh I couldn't hear, sadness flickering over his features. His throat bobbed and he held out a hand toward me.

When I hesitated, he said, "Abelia. Please."

Like his voice had broken a spell, my paralysis shattered and I darted across the atrium. I skirted the guard's body, keeping my eyes locked on Damianus. His eyebrows rose with surprise when I put my hand in his.

I started toward the door, but he pulled me to a stop. When I glanced up curiously, he said, "Do you want me to kill him?"

The hatred in his voice warmed me. I had no idea what made it matter to him so much. Swallowing against my dry throat, I turned my gaze back to the quiet domus. It was so peaceful.

All I could think of was how many peaceful nights had been shattered by the master. The things that had been stolen from me. I didn't say anything. I couldn't even nod. Damianus' eyes softened.

He didn't say anything, simply slunk into the shadows. I didn't call him back. A part of me didn't want such blood on my hands. A larger part wanted the master punished for what he'd done to me. I wanted him to suffer as I had suffered. 

Surely my crimes couldn't outweigh his?

It seemed to simultaneously take forever and no time at all before Damianus returned. There was blood smeared on his forearm. He paused a wary distance from me.

"Thank you," I whispered, a strange mix of relief, shame and horror bubbling in my chest.

He smiled, relief plain on his face, then heaved the heavy lock-bar up, opening the door onto the dark streets of Rome. I reached forward, taking his hand again.

His fingers tightened around mine as he pulled me across the threshold.

My heart pounded in my throat as I realized this was real. This was actually happening. The edge of the horizon was beginning to pearl. Damianus paused with me, staring toward the east.  He squeezed my fingers once, then released me.

"We need to go," he said softly. 

I didn't bother looking back as we broke into a run, disappearing into the lightening streets of Rome.