The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) Read Online Free PDF

she dishonor their union as soon as it had begun?
    In the darkened garden with the music of the fountain, who would know if she let the gladiator steal a kiss?
    She would remember. She would know.
    Phaedra stepped back, releasing Valens’s wrist. She ignored the veil as it slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. “We are bound now to change our fate.”
    He blinked at her several times, as if adjusting his eyes to a bright light. “Yes, my lady.”
    “Since we are so bound”—she kept her voice bright and light, belying the sense of absolute loss within—“you must call me Phaedra.”
    “Phaedra,” he said, his voice hoarse and smooth, deep as thunder.
    She shuddered at the loneliness she heard there. Or perhaps it was the echo of her isolation.
    “There you are.” A man’s voice came from behind them.
    Phaedra and Valens took several steps apart as Acestes walked into the clearing by the fountain. “I have looked everywhere for you since you left the banquet. I fear I offended you by what I said.” He looked at Valens. “What are you doing here alone with her?”
    Valens clasped his hands behind his back and lowered his eyes. The stance transformed him from a man with the desire to read and write and understand the inner workings of a fountain to a slave. Which, of course, he was. She felt the hot rush of anger at Acestes for bringing them back to reality.
    “We met by accident while I walked through the garden,” she said, answering for them both. “Did you know that he has never fought at a wedding before? Do you think that will make my wedding better or worse? Better if it becomes the fashion, worse if it does not.”
    Phaedra could not stop herself from rambling. Better that Acestes think her a fool than untrue. Thank the gods she had not given in to the temptation to kiss Valens. If she had, then Acestes would have discovered them in an embrace. Even her thoughts were so tangled together she could hardly parse one from the next.
    “The gladiator does not belong here,” Acestes said.
    Valens lifted his eyes. His look flashed with the same razor-sharp edge as his sword. Acestes saw it, too, and stepped back. Lifting his chest, Valens stood tall, his legs spread and braced. “Apologies if my presence offends.”
    Phaedra knew that Valens did not feel the least sorry.
    “Go to the kitchens, Gladiator,” Acestes said. “Have someone fetch guards from your ludus. It is time you returned home.”
    “Only if the lady wishes it so. I need to see to her safety.”
    “I am her family, one of her kind.” Acestes leaned toward the gladiator.
    The air in the garden crackled with hostility. Phaedra could not allow an altercation. Acestes was a patrician. If Valens did him harm, he would violate one of Rome’s oldest and most sacred laws. Regardless of the reason or outcome of any fight, for Valens, a slave—property and not a man—the consequences would be severe. He would suffer torture, maiming, followed by a slow and agonizing death.
    Lifting her hand to the left, Phaedra said, “The kitchens are over there.”
    Valens looked at her once and then lowered his eyes. “Gratitude, my lady.”
    Acestes placed his hand on Phaedra’s elbow and steered her back to the party. “You and I need to talk,” he said.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the gladiator as they walked away. “Thank you,” she said.
    Valens faded into the shadow of an orange tree, his figure a black form within the darkness. But even though she could no longer see his features, Phaedra glimpsed him holding her crimson bridal veil. Slowly, carefully he wrapped it around his wrist, covering the place she had held him when they bound themselves to one another and swore to change their fates.
    Acestes said nothing as they walked through the garden and away from Valens. Once the lights of the house and the jumbled voices of her father’s guests poured onto the terrace, he stopped and turned to face her.
    “What were you doing