The boys left eventually, leaving just the three of us. Corvus and Ursus continued to talk and I leaned against the counter, resting my chin on my hand. The patter of rain against thick glass layered over the murmur of voices and the crackling of the torch. I closed my eyes, tempted to just lie down and curl up on the floor with one of the blankets I use to line the fruit crates. But instead I sighed, straightened, and went to collect the empty glasses.

  "So, who's fighting on Liberalia?" I'd been a little too preoccupied to look at the announcements posted around.

  "Not me. I just fought. And I'm still injured."

  A smug smile spread across Ursus's face. "And I'm far too special."

  I narrowed my eyes. I should have known he'd say something like that. But he wasn't wrong, though. This event was meant to be a little more relaxed than Sol Ludus. There would still be beast fights and gladiator matches, but no execution spectacle...or battles to the death. The penalties for that were raised to be much steeper this time around—I knew that much. If Ursus participated, it would basically be just to brag.

  "Some less established gladiators. But Quintus will be out there, too."

  I looked up with interest, pausing in my collection of the empty drinks. "Oh, really? It's been a while since I've seen him fight."

  "Well, now. It seems like you're everyone's fan."

  "Jealous, big guy?" Corvus grinned.

  Hazel eyes gleamed as Ursus leaned forward, resting his scarred, bronzed arms on the table. "I don't like sharing attention with anyone. Least of all yours, Maximilia."

  "Don't worry," I simpered as I resumed my collection. "You're still my favorite, Ragulus. After Felix, of course."

  His shoulders shook as he laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. It was an infectious sound and it was hard not to grin along despite my best efforts to compose my expression.

  "You know," I continued. "To support my father, I did my best to see every single game since Ludus Invictus started. I've watched you guys for a while. For a long time, I actually wanted to be one, too."

  Corvus looked at me with an interested expression. The intensity of his features, especially the blue eyes, was softer in this weather. "Why aren't you?"

  "As if Felix would let her." Ursus snorted.

  He glanced at him. "It's not about what Felix wants. Although I'm not sure how much he could really say no to Maximilia," he said with an amused tone.

  I frowned, pausing again. Today was proving to be an unproductive day. "I'm not spoiled," I replied reproachfully. "He's always been very fair and more patient than I probably deserved, true. But I know myself enough to know I'm not like that." I looked out to the training grounds drenched in rain. Novicii had begun to gather somewhat miserably on the mud. "We had our moments when he didn't budge. And honestly, I'd done my best to avoid upsetting the balance."

  "Why?"

  I shrugged. "For a long time, I was afraid of messing up and losing the best thing that had ever happened to me." I bit my lip, the next part coming out a little softer. "And sometimes I still am."

  They were quiet under the sound of drumming rain.

  I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I used to get mad at him for making me wait at home during his fights. I was always afraid of the day he wouldn't come back. But at the same time, I wanted to be just like him. I thought that if he was doing it, then it must be cool. I know it makes no sense." I laughed. "But I knew he never wanted me to be one and I eventually understood why. Although, for a time, watching all of you made me think about being one again."

  Feeling slightly awkward from the moment of vulnerability—an unexpected one—I fell silent and turned to watch the mess beyond the courtyard. The trainees were lined up in pairs on one side of the grounds. The goal seemed pretty simple: get to the weapon or shield in the middle first. And then stay in control of it for the count of fifteen.

  I shifted on my feet, scrunching my bottom lip up. "So, do I get to hear why you became gladiators?"

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  Ursus gave me a long, calculated look. "How about a free smoothie each and we tell you?"

  “Hmm..”

  The rain trickled off the edge of the glass canopy onto the pathway. I worked my jaw as we stared at each other. I could be patient. I could be patient if I wanted to be.

  I broke eye contact first. The curiosity had burned too hot. "Fine! I'll go make your stupid smoothies," I grumbled, carrying the dirty glasses back to the bar.

  "I want to try the new one!"

  I huffed but felt my lips curling. For now, I'd let them have their little victory. I returned shortly after, handing them their drinks and setting down one for myself. It was probably my second favorite recipe, made with watermelon, mint, raspberries, and citron.

  "It's not every day someone walks away from a contest with you still alive," I teased Ursus.

  He chuckled. "I believe you give yourself too little credit.”

  "Oh, no. I crumbled almost immediately. I've lost all my patience working here."

  "I expected better of you, Maximilia," Corvus said. His eyebrows knit together in disappointment.

  "Then I guess you don't want this," I replied, reaching to take the smoothie back. But he shielded it with his shoulder while giving me a reproachful glare. I snorted, dropping onto the open bench.

  Ursus leaned back contentedly. "I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. Unlike most other gladiators, I have no colorful story. I became one simply because I knew I'd be good at it."

  I raised my eyebrows in skepticism. "Really?"

  He shrugged. "Just look at me."

  I did look at him. The man was tall and broad, practically all muscle. A scarred beast in the arena, just like his namesake. I could land a significant hit on a bear, but it probably wouldn't even notice as it mauled me to death.

  "He does make a good point, doesn't he?" Corvus said dryly. "The same thing he told me when I had asked.”

  "I guess it makes sense."

  Because slavery wasn't practiced anymore, no one could be sold into the arena. But that didn't mean people weren't still desperate, or tempted by the glory, fame, and winnings. Or that the Imperium didn't have its own way of boosting gladiator numbers when they waned—the masses demanded their entertainment, after all.

  "And you, Corvus?" I asked almost hesitantly. Based on the other gladiator's comment about reasons, he and his sister likely had a more unpleasant one.

  His fingers drummed on the table, nearly in rhythm with the falling rain. "Our father gambled. He managed to gamble nearly everything away, including our mother's love. It seems she still hasn't looked back, either," he began, taking a sip. "But he was willing to do anything for the itch, even setting up dog fights. And making kids fight, too."

  I held in a gasp, just clutching my own drink tighter. Ursus crossed his arms. His expression told me that he'd heard it before, but found it no less pleasant to hear the second time around.

  "So Prax and I learned to fight since we were young. And eventually we decided to become gladiators because we had gotten good enough at fighting that it became something we enjoyed. And because we could gamble with our own lives instead.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “Although Felix had to remove some bad habits in our techniques."

  I bit my lip. While I was glad they'd taken ownership over it all, it was an awful feeling to know that their father was probably still gambling on his kids.

  "Don't worry," Ursus said with a wink. It was as if he heard my thoughts. "Arrangements have been made so that he can never place a bet that lets him win off of them."

  "Oh, good," I said, half laughing in relief. "I'd hate to think that bastard made any money off of you still."

  Corvus grunted. "We haven't thought about him in a long time. The past is something that doesn't matter anymore."

  I looked out to the training yard again. I recognized the current pair hurtling across the ground as two from that trio of friends, Brutus and Antonius. They dove for the sword at the same time. It was a desperate scramble in the mud and rain. Their feet slipped as each fought furiously to gain control over the weapon. Felix used to have me do something similar, because you never know what might happen in a fight. I knew how tiring it could get.

  And sure enough, they started pausing to gasp in exhaustion. In an attempt to keep hold of the weapon, slick with mud and dirt, it was easy to overuse your strength and deplete yourself of stamina completely. At one point, the sword flew from them both and it landed flat in a puddle. Brutus threw himself after it in a desperate attempt, but instead landed on the length of the blade as his body splat against the ground. He rolled over slowly as Tiberius approached, standing over them both.

  "You both lost. That was not a good performance for several reasons. Your movements were too large and you relied too much on pure strength, missing opportunities to take advantage of the situation. There was no precision and you were too focused on the weapon itself you forgot about each other."

  "How?" they complained. "We were just fighting each other."

  Tiberius shook his head, continuing his explanation.

  I looked back at the two gladiators. "Your turn next, right?"

  Corvus shifted. "I'm still injured."

  "And I'm too special," Ursus said again. "What's your excuse?"

  "I'm spoiled." I took a sip as they laughed. "Besides, it smells better over here. Much better than sweat an…older sweat."

  Corvus sniffed the air. "Like citron and mint."

  Standing up, I grinned. "I'm glad you like it, but you can't stay here. Time for me to close up."