Gladiator's Promise: From the Shadows of Rome, #2

By Patricia Bates

67 BC. Rome.
Trust. Kindness. Reckless and dangerous words in Arria's inhuman world. 

Her master's most favored slave, Arria knows the kindest of smiles hide the most monstrous of intentions.

Put to cart by her bitter, hate-filled mistress, Arria's sadistic world is uprooted and a new terror unfolds. Within Lanista Celer Marcus's estate Arria is cast adrift and she struggles to trust in herself and those around her. 

Her position is not defined, choice is offered freely but the man is an enigma. His kindness instills terror. His protection comes with a price.

Former gladiator Celer is free from days training for the sands and nights dreaming of freedom and a dark eyed girl the gods ripped from his arms. A chance encounter and the greed of another delivers her back into his life.

Celer will not be swayed. He will free her from both bondage and the demons haunting her- no matter the cost. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: P B Publications
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781990536014

Book preview

Dedication

To my family - your patience and support is immeasurable. To my fans you guys are amazing. Caralyn, your help, support, and friendship is a blessing in my life I can never put into words. You totally rock!!!

Acknowledgement

I want to take a moment to acknowledge Caralyn Young for her endless support, her insight, and her hard approach to getting things right. She is an amazing critique partner and a dear friend. There are no words to express my gratitude for her help and her guidance. She has helped me with ensuring this book meets and exceeds my fans expectations. Can’t wait for the next project.

Chapter One

Slaves bustled around the kitchen, stoking the fires. Arria wiped her hand across her forehead, sweat running down her throat. A walk through the underworld would be easier than the coming evening. She stepped around an older woman carrying several hot loaves of bread and reached for two cups and a small tray. Muttering surrounded her as the other kitchen workers rushed to get preparations started. Another rush on the evening meal, Dominus should send word when he is to return.

Take care it does not burn, a feminine voice barked out, and Arria twisted around. Cook stood, her thick waist covered in stained aprons. Her greying hair peeked out from beneath her head scarf and she held a cleaver in one hand, her gaze on the unsteady girl at the counter.

Apologies, Cook. Arria dipped her chin and inched away from the older woman. I shall get out of the way as soon as I have gotten the wine. Dominus’ return has created more work for all. Icilia demands the evening meal be ready after his bath.

Cook turned her head and offered a weak smile. Do not concern yourself with my barking, child. As commanded, the meal will be ready after his bath. Tend to the running of the household and leave the meals to me. Her voice rose above the din, a thread of warmth running through it.

Arria nodded and peered into the bubbling pot. The rich scent of meat and spices filled her nose, and her stomach rumbled. Ah, she would gladly give the night’s rest to enjoy the drippings.

Rapid steps filled the corridor, and Arria glanced up from the enticing food over the fire.

Two of the young boys who helped in the kitchen scurried from the doorway, their heads bowed. A shadow moved through the light, and a moment later, Salaria appeared in the doorway. Her hair hung untamed around her face, the pale fabric of her tunica stained with sweat and dripping water.

Arria shivered. Gods, how was she in the villa?

Arria stepped away from Salaria, her heart racing and palms sweaty.

Her hands fisted at her sides, Salaria’s gaze swept the room. Desperation clouded her eyes. Back to the sands, Salaria whispered, her eyes haunted, lips pinched. To freedom...to Tritus.

Gods be merciful, what was the gladiatorix mumbling about now?

Arria exhaled and faced the other woman. The way she’d dispatched Marcus... Ice nipped along Arria’s spine, and she shivered. The puckered flesh still healing slapped her heart, and she shifted her attention back to the tempting food, wrapping her arms around herself. That poor, terrifying woman.

She backed up, bumping into a table.

The clatter of pots drew her attention, and she grabbed the edge of the table.

Free. Free. No more. Salaria plucked at her tunica, her fingers trembling.

Arria frowned and looked at the others in the room. Shrugs and indifference met her. She gathered her courage and turned back to Salaria, her heart beat settling at the lone tear streaking down the other woman’s face. It was not Salaria’s fault she fell from favor.

Arria sighed and reached out for Salaria’s arm.  What did you say?

Salaria pulled away and hurried to the small alcove where the wine sat. Nothing. Dominus is waiting.

She didn’t believe her, the fool would not say nothing for no reason. Something had happened.

Salaria poured wine into a decanter and reached for a small tray.

A sniffle drew Arria closer and she blinked at another tear trailing down Salaria’s face. The gladiatorix grabbed the half-circle of La-Luna cheese and cut small wedges.

Her heart aching, Arria clasped her hands together.

Everyone had heard Dominus’s shouts of rage at the loss of Tritus. His words had been confusing as he bemoaned the loss of coins.

What had become of Tritus? Arria grabbed her tunica, twisting the material in her fingers. Had he fallen? Been sold off? His fate would destroy the other woman.

Oh, but the gods needed to show more mercy. Had Domina, in a fit of rage, delivered the news of his death? Or he was beyond Salaria’s touch because another offered a great number of coins.

Domina would delight in tormenting Salaria. The hatred for the dark-haired woman knew no limits. Often Icilia railed about Salaria’s prowess, about her beauty. She would be eager to hurt Salaria, to dig her claws into tender flesh and rip her heart to shreds.

Arria shuddered and blinked the gathering tears from her eyes.

If there was any favor to be found, her lover awaited Salaria in the underworld. Gone from the world of chains and uncertainty she yet clung to. It pains my heart to hear of Tritus’s fate. Though Dominus has not spoken of it in such terms. Perhaps he lost him in a wager? Dominus does favor a good gamble. Arria walked toward her, wiping her hands on her apron. She offered a weak smile and tried to catch Salaria’s gaze. I will pray for him if you desire. Tritus was too good for the likes of this place.

He is. A man of honor so unlike those who sit with whip in hand. Perhaps the gods were generous and showed favor. Salaria blinked, her watery eyes growing more glassy. He will be sorely missed. I must not delay; Dominus is in a fine mood.

Arria sighed. She’d resented the other woman for so long. Loathed and feared her. Yet standing before her, Salaria was a broken shell - a vessel of flesh and bone who paid for Icilia’s sins. Yet Salaria was no different than she. A toy or a tool.

Arria straightened her shoulders and exhaled a long breath. Indeed, he is in a mood. Arria placed a hand on her arm. Take care, my friend. Domina will be displeased to be so curtly dealt with by her husband.

She is of no consequence. A teary smile curled on Salaria’s chapped lips, the distance in her gaze giving Arria pause. Like any other bothersome plague or a boil on your ass. Something unpleasant which must be dealt with to ensure the comfort of anyone around her. See to the evening meal; the timbers and stones have not heard the last of their roars tonight.

Arria nodded as Salaria marched from the kitchen.

Dominus was angry, Domina gloated...and Salaria? She acted as though she had been gifted with freedom. It was a blessing, one Arria would not take for granted. The gods had woken only to play with the lowly mortals on earth.

Salaria would find happiness; would find the ending she did yearn for if there was any kindness in the world. She deserved it. 

Arria, come quickly. Dagnia’s voice penetrated her tangled thoughts.

Twisting around—Dagnia rushed into the room, shifting her weight from foot to foot, eyes wide, her cheeks flushed.

Arria gasped. What in the of name of Jupiter? Has Domina summoned—

No, no. Come quickly. Dominus has lost patience with her. It is likely he has learned of why Tiberius has been so frequent a visitor. Dagnia waved her closer. If he learns the full truth, we will all suffer.

Gods above. Was there no thought to anyone but themselves? If Icilia’s secrets were revealed, they would all pay. Arria’s knees weakened and she grabbed the table, catching herself.

Would he send them to the auctions, or would she and the other women be sent to a brothel? A shudder raced along her spine, and she choked back the bile in her throat. Entertaining Dominus’s guests was bad enough, to have others—No, no she would rather have death.

Arria rushed after Dagnia, racing back down the corridor toward the bathing room.

Raised voices filtered through the air, flames of anger burning through the words. Several of the younger women scurried toward them, eyes wide with fear.

Salaria hovered near the door, the tray and its contents she’d carried on the floor. Dominus stood a short distance behind her.

Leave it. Licius’s voice shook with his rage, his face a mottled purple.

Salaria stumbled toward the door, her face pale. Dark patches covered her tunica, wine dripping onto the floor.

Arria’s breath caught and she stumbled to a halt. No. Surely Dominus would not be so blatant. Or was it Domina’s rage which saw Salaria to the state she stood in?

I have learned much recently, Icilia, a great deal. I am not so foolish not to understand. Tiberius will not be returning. He will rot at the edges of the empire. Licius’s voice quivered with his rage.

Pity it wasn’t you in his stead. Ice dripped from Icilia’s voice, and Arria flinched.

The woman was either stupid or a fool. Perhaps both.

You will obey, Icilia. Licius’s voice boomed through the hall.

Salaria stood frozen near the open door, her fingers knotted in her tunica.

Gods, did the gladiatorix not have any sense? The risk to her grew with each passing heartbeat, and Arria hissed at her. Salaria glanced her way, and she waved the other woman away from the door.

Salaria barely cleared the door jamb before Licius slammed it; the wood crashed into the frame, filling the air with thunder.

Come. Arria tugged on Salaria’s arm, pulling her toward the kitchen and a semblance of safety.

A sharp crack was followed by a high pitched cry and a crash.

Sucking in a deep breath, Arria scurried toward the kitchen. The night would not go well. Domina would stand displeased. Already Arria could feel the sting of Domina’s displeasure.

ICILIA’S SOFT SOBS faded as the moon spilled a sickly light across the stone floors of the villa, an eerie accompaniment to the intermittent silence. A jaw cracking yawn escaped, and Arria covered her mouth with her hand. She swayed on her feet, her shoulder brushing the cool stone, and she reached up to rub at her gritty eyes.

Nipirius would be summoned if she fell asleep before her domina released her.

Her mind’s eye painted the image of Salaria’s back in grotesque detail. Arria licked her lips and gulped in a deep breath. No, she would not sleep just yet. She wouldn’t survive such a torment.

Heavy footsteps approached and Arria straightened, her eyes lowered. Who could be wandering about the villa at such an hour? The guards did not come inside, and the gladiators were all in their rooms in the ludus.

She glanced up through her lashes and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Dominus strode down the hall, his face twisted into an ugly mask. Eyes narrowed, he stopped at the door to her domina's chambers.

Dominus glanced at Arria with a raised brow before pushing through the sheer drapery across the opening. Icilia.

Fabric rustled and the thud of something hitting the tabletop tiptoed into the corridor. Husband, I’m tired. It has been a trying day. Hatred dripped from Icilia’s tone, and Arria’s stomach twisted into a hard knot. Domina was surely determined to see them both to the underworld. Have I not crawled enough for you?

I care not for your feeble excuses. Dominus’s voice penetrated the wood, anger scorching the tone. With the coming of the sun I must attend several meetings. You, wife, will honor your husband. Your excuses and disregard for my line ends.

Hovering in the alcove near Domina’s door, Arria’s heart galloped beneath her ribs. Domina would not welcome her husband’s touch. She was still angered by Tiberius’s banishment. Arria would suffer for it.

She hunched her shoulders, her back tingling as though the strings of the whip had already kissed her flesh.

Arria pressed closer to the open doorway, her ears straining. Muffled words teased the night, and she clenched her fists. Venom laced the muffled words Icilia spoke, and Arria winced. Stupid fool.

A sharp crack followed by a soft cry broke through the shadows, and she flinched, her stomach twisted painfully. Sobbing followed along with another crack. Several thuds and the ripping of fabric had her heart dropping to her feet.

Dare she rush to her domina’s aid? Or would it be better to wait? Dominus had given no clear instructions.

Arria shifted and glanced around, searching the darkness.

Dominus, it seemed, was determined to right the wrongs and humiliation reaped upon him by