Out of the Ashes Read online

  “Do you like being a gladiator?” She cursed herself, realizing the ridiculousness of the question after she had spoken it aloud.

  He laughed, the sound devoid of humor.

  “How can you possibly believe men get pleasure from killing one another?”

  “There are some who do.”

  “Only the free gladiators who are paid to fight, or those who sit safely tucked away in the stands, watching as other men die for their enjoyment in the arena.”

  “So you are not here by choice?”

  “No, I do not choose to kill. I am forced to do it.”

  Sabina’s exposed skin chilled. She’d always known of the slave gladiators, but she never considered how they felt about what they were required to do.

  Embarrassed that she had ever been a spectator to such sport, she tried to justify it.

  “But that has always been the way of things, has it not? It is how we rid ourselves of criminals and the unwanted in society.”

  “So does that make it just to pit man against beast? Man against man?” Dacian stepped closer, resting his hands above hers on the metal bars. “And what of an innocent man, guilty only because he was born a slave and sold into the gladiator school as a child? A man who committed no crime other than that of being born to the wrong family at the wrong time? Had my father been a privileged Roman…”

  His anger and pain reached out and wrapped around her heart. She thought of the money her uncle spent so easily to sponsor the games, paying for men like Dacian to die so that he might win favor with the people and votes in the next election.

  “I guess wealth means power and freedom, does it not?”

  “That has always been the way of things.” His hands gripped the bars, causing his knuckles to turn white.

  “How much would it cost for your freedom?”

  A look of hopelessness aged his handsome face before her eyes.

  “More gold than I could ever hope to win in the games.”

  Sabina watched his gaze trace every feature of her face, his look so intense she could almost feel it caressing her skin.

  He reached through the bars, fingering the indentation the armlet had left on her arm.

  “Is this then the price for a gladiator?”

  Sabina looked down to where his finger rubbed slowly back and forth over the mark on her skin, and a shiver raced through her body.

  “No,” she whispered. “Merely the price to speak to one.”

  A sharp crack pierced the air as the guard slammed a heavy stick down on the fingers of Dacian’s other hand.

  “Do not touch the girl. You are not worthy.”

  They both jumped away from the bars. Dacian cast his eyes on the ground, cupping his bruised fingers with his other hand.

  The guard grinned at Sabina through the bars.

  “It looks like your visit is over for today. Remember, if you wish to see him again, you know what is expected.”

  The guard grabbed Dacian and led him away, but not before Sabina saw the deep red lash marks streaking across his proud, young back.

  *

  Sitting in his dark cell, the wall cool against his ravaged back, Dacian struggled to ignore the pain. He tried to think of pleasant things to deaden the burning of the freshly striped welts that marked his flesh, overlapping the unhealed wounds from his lashing the day before for losing the match against Bellator.

  The one image that kept returning to his mind was Sabina as she looked at him through the iron bars of the gladiator barracks. Soft amber curls framed her lovely face, and her eyes, big and blue, reflected a wealth of emotion for one so young. He shook his head. She was so pure and innocent, a rarity among the Romans.

  Why had she done it? Obviously a privileged daughter of a prominent Pompeian, she’d not only risked a great deal during the games, but she had risked her very reputation by coming to see him, a lowly slave gladiator.

  She would never realize it, but that one small act of kindness meant more to him than anything he could remember. He would hold tight to that memory, knowing he might not experience the feeling again anytime soon.

  The bolt grated in the door, and Dacian looked down at his portion of boiled barley, grown cold. He realized he had been dreaming the day away and had not finished his noon meal. He stood, prepared to hand over the simple clay bowl. A spoon was never provided for fear he might find a way to use it against his guards.

  When he looked up, a vision stood in the doorway, as if she had been conjured straight from his thoughts.

  “Sabina.” He spoke her name in a whisper, fearing if he said it too loudly, the vision might disappear.

  Glancing first at him, then at the tiny confines of his cell, she smiled tentatively. When she finally stepped through the doorway, Dacian didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to react.

  Sabina turned away, and he wondered if she had changed her mind and intended to leave. But instead, she spoke softly to the guard.

  “You may leave us now.”

  The guard looked at her warily. “I do not think that would be wise. He is dangerous. You should not be left alone with him. You should not even allow yourself to be within arm’s reach of him.”

  Placing her hands on her hips, she stiffened.

  “I will be perfectly fine. After all, I spared the man’s life not two days ago. I do not think it likely that he will take mine now. Now, I paid you good gold. Close the door and give me my time with him.”

  Amazing. This wisp of a girl stood there with the regal bearing of an empress, ordering the guard about with confident authority as if she did such a task every day and fully expected to be obeyed. Dacian had never seen anything like it.

  The guard’s beady eyes darted between the girl and Dacian before he bowed his head slightly, his lip curled in contempt.

  “Whatever the lady wants.”

  His tone on the word “lady” made Dacian bristle. Given the chance, he would gladly kill the guard with his bare hands for the insult to Sabina’s character, insinuating he knew exactly why she had come—the only reason any woman would visit the barracks.

  The guard snatched at the satchel Sabina carried, opened it, and rooted through its contents. He withdrew a covered jar, removed the top, and sniffed it. Seemingly not satisfied, he shoved his finger into it and stuffed a glob of white paste into his mouth. No sooner had he closed his lips around his finger than he spat the paste out on the stone floor.

  Sabina chuckled. “I could have told you it was not food, had you the decency but to ask.”

  The guard growled at her, and Dacian feared the man would make her leave. Instead, the guard shoved the bag and its contents into her hands and slammed the door. The bolt slid shut, effectively trapping Sabina in the cell with Dacian.

  He stared at her back, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound. She seemed so small, like a delicate bird trapped in a wicker cage. He did not doubt the guard was right. If he wanted to, Dacian could kill her with a single blow of his hand. Killing was what he’d been trained to do. He sensed she realized that, but for some reason, she chose to trust him. Why? Why, of all the gladiators in Pompeii, did she choose to seek out him?

  Sabina turned, a tentative smile touching her face.

  “Hello, Dacian.”

  He set his half-eaten bowl of boiled barley on the floor slowly so as not to frighten her and wiped his greasy fingers on his dirty tunic.

  “Why have you come here?”

  The pleasant smile left her face, replaced by a piqued look that made her appear older than her years. “You lied to me yesterday.”

  “I did?” Confused, he tried to recall every word of their conversation.

  “Yes. When I asked if they had beaten you for losing, you said ‘no.’”

  Dacian shrugged in a casual manner, belying the rage he felt at the injustice life dealt him every day.

  “It is the price to pay for losing in the games.”

  Concern quickly replaced the look of displeasure o
n her pretty face.

  “You did not get into trouble when they took you away yesterday, did you?”

  “No.” He shifted his feet, the pain of the fresh lashes under his tunic calling him a liar.

  “Let me see your back.”

  Her request surprised him. Did she really wish to see the lashing he received because of her visit?

  “I think it would be better if you did not.”

  Indicating the satchel she carried, Sabina approached him.

  “I brought a salve that might help you. I risked a great deal in coming here today and had to spend a goodly amount of my own gold to do it. Now, are you going to remove your tunic or not?”

  Heat rose to Dacian’s face. “I do not wish to offend you.”

  “I have tended wounds before. The sight will not offend me.”

  “That is not what I meant.”

  Realization washed over Sabina’s face, her mouth curving into a silent “oh.” The filthy tunic was all Dacian wore.

  Without hesitating, she removed the white palla from around her shoulders.

  “Here, you may cover yourself with this.”

  Handing the lightweight shawl to him, she turned her back as if the decision were final.

  Dacian nearly laughed. There he was, a trained killer, and yet he felt intimidated by this tiny girl. He removed his slave belt, then pulled the tunic over his shoulders, wincing as the coarse material scraped across his raw back. If she wished to see the ugly side of being a gladiator, so be it.

  He took her palla and wrapped it around his hips, the material so thin and sheer it barely concealed him.

  “You may turn around now.”

  Sabina turned slowly and eyed him from under long lashes, almost as if she did not trust him to be fully clothed. When she saw he was, the stiffness in her shoulders eased, and she seemed to relax.

  “Please sit.” Sabina indicated the stone slab that served as his bed. He did as she ordered. When she sat down next to him, he stiffened, unaccustomed to having anyone so close who didn’t want to kill him.

  “Now, let me see.” Turning him with just the barest touch of her fingers on his shoulders, she angled his back toward the meager light coming in through the small barred window in the door of his cell.

  Dacian braced himself for her reaction.

  He heard her swift intake of breath. “By the gods, look what they have done to you!”

  He craned his head to peer over his shoulder. “It probably appears worse than it feels.”

  “It looks awful. Why did they lash you again?”

  “The guards are always ready to remind the slaves of their place.”

  Sabina sat silent for a long moment.

  “Was it because you touched me yesterday?”

  He hesitated before telling her a half-truth.

  “Among other things.”

  “Then this is my fault. I caused you this pain.”

  His hand covered hers where it rested on his shoulder.

  “No, Sabina. Do not blame yourself. You did not wield the whip. It was not your hand that laid these lashes across my back.”

  Her large blue eyes pooled with tears ready to overflow down her pale cheeks.

  “But if I had not come—”

  He shifted slightly so he could see her better.

  “If you had not come, they would have found another reason to do it.” Dacian watched her struggle with the unfairness of it and searched for the words to ease her guilt. “And if not for you, I would not have had a reason to bear it.”

  “I am sorry.” She paused, worry furrowing her brow. “Will they punish you again because I have come?”

  Dacian let his arm drop and shook his head.

  “No. Since you paid them good coin, they will not hurt me in the hopes of receiving more if you come again. Besides, with the next games so close, they could not risk damaging me so much that I can no longer fight.”

  He watched as inspiration sprang alive inside her.

  “But what if you are so injured that you could no longer fight? Would they set you free?”

  Sweet, innocent Sabina. She had no idea of the way of the world.

  “A gladiator who cannot fight is not worth keeping alive. If I can no longer compete in the games, they will pit me against the beasts, and both you and I know which will win in the end.”

  The room grew cooler as the hope faded from her eyes.

  “Yes, I know.” He watched her gaze rake over his scarred back. “Still, they should not have beaten you for a mere touch. It is not as if you meant to do me harm.”

  “No.” Dacian looked deep into her eyes. “I would never hurt you.”

  She smiled. “I know that.”

  “How? How do you know, when you do not know me?”

  Sabina shrugged. “I just do.”

  She looked down at the jar of salve in her hand and winced.

  “However, you may not say the same of me once I am done with you.”

  Contrary to her words, her fingers stroked gently across his ravaged back. So unaccustomed to another’s caring touch on his skin, he wanted to weep at the tenderness of it.

  Reluctant to break the peacefulness of the moment, Dacian asked the question that had plagued him since the games.

  “Why did you save me in the arena?”

  He felt her pause.

  “You fought well. I did not think you deserved to die.” Sabina quickly resumed her ministrations, smoothing the cool cream on his skin just above where it met the barrier of the shawl.

  “There are gladiators who fight well every day. Men who fall, hour upon hour, who do not deserve to die.”

  “I know.”

  “So why me?”

  She sighed heavily. “There had already been so much blood and death that day. I thought maybe… I wanted to save one.”

  Dacian snorted at the futility of it.

  “But you cannot save us all.”

  Sabina paused again.

  “But I did save you, so do not dare tell me you were not worth it.”

  He had no answer for her. He remained silent and enjoyed her touch. Her fingers glided over his skin, tenderly applying the healing ointment to the cuts on his back.

  “There, I hope it did not hurt too much.”

  Disappointed when her fingers left his skin, Dacian turned to her and took her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers.

  “I would gladly suffer the lash every day if it meant you would touch me with kindness again.”

  Sabina blushed and pulled her hand away. She passed him his tunic, then turned her attention to resealing the jar and replacing it in her satchel.

  “You risk a great deal by coming here,” Dacian said as he stood and dressed.

  “I know.”

  “Do you really, Sabina?”

  He stared down at her as she sat on his stone bed in her pure, white gown. She looked so young and naive. As much as he hated to do it, he needed to warn her of the folly of coming to the barracks, even if it meant he would never see her again.

  “You risk not only your reputation, but perhaps any chance at a good marriage. Only women seeking a lover come to visit the gladiators.”

  She finished wiping the salve from her fingers with a cloth and stared down at her hands.

  “I am aware of that.”

  “Is that why you really came?” Dacian held his breath, the thought sending a wave of heat through his body. He stepped toward her, his cock stiffening under his tunic at the possibility of her desiring him that way. “Is that what you want of me?”

  Sabina’s head shot up, her eyes wide while a telling blush crept up her cheeks.

  “I… no. No, of course not. I only wanted to help you.” Snatching up her satchel and palla, she stood and turned for the door. “I am sorry I came. I will not bother you again.”

  Dacian panicked and reached out to stop her. He grabbed her upper arm, his fingers encircling the delicate limb where the mark from her armlet h
ad been the day before. Her skin was so soft, he ached to touch her more, but he didn’t dare.

  “Wait. Please do not leave just yet.”

  Sabina stopped, but she would not look at him.

  “I am sorry.” Desperate to take back the careless words he’d spoken, he faltered. “I… am glad that you came. Just by doing so, you have made my sad existence a little more bearable, if only for a day.”

  She turned, a wealth of emotion vivid in her eyes. With his hand still cupped around her arm, she stepped closer. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, the silence of the cell broken only by the sound of their breaths drawn in unison, mingling in the air between them.

  The grate of the bolt jarred them back to the moment.

  “Your time is up,” the guard said from the doorway. “You will have to come back tomorrow if you want to see him again.”

  Dacian looked at her, probably for the last time, knowing the regret he saw on her face was likely reflected in his own.

  “I thank you for coming, Sabina, but do not come again. You risk too much.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “Only my heart.”

  Dacian watched as the guard led her away, locking him back in his cold, lonely cell.

  Chapter 3

  Sabina’s gladiator now had a face—and a name.

  Dacian.

  Wrapped in the palla he had covered himself with the first time she’d gone to him in his cell, his scent surrounded her. Strong and musky, the smell brought him vividly to her mind.

  Every day Sabina had managed to slip away to visit him, and each time it cost her more. Once her coin was gone, she began bribing the guards with various pieces of jewelry, but before long all that would be gone, too. Soon she would be forced to steal from her father if she wanted to continue to see Dacian. But see him she did, and each time, the look on his face made it all worthwhile.

  In the dark confines of his cell, they spoke of small things—how well the grapes grew on the fertile hillsides of Vesuvius or the philosophy of Seneca and the writings of Pliny the Elder. They talked of the past—how Sabina’s wine merchant father had raised her since her mother’s death and how Dacian had worked at the laundry as a child before he’d been sold into the gladiator school.