Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 3. That Old Story

Quintus' hair bounced over his eyes, curling from rain and sweat. He blew it out of the way and, in the same breath, shouted, "My Fidelis name is Quintus—meaning the fifth—you know why?"

"Shut up, or you'll be re-stacking the obstacle course tonight," I said.

He squared his shoulders.

"Alone," I added.

His curled-in lip and a glare gave off a sullen defiance. "I'm 'the fifth' because Maximus insisted that the slave trader gave away the 'useless mongrel' as a freebie with a purchase of a full quad," he said.

I hated being reminded of that day. Since then, I had left dealing in human flesh to Rufius Fulgentius. He was good at it, and the slave traders... I held back the desire to spit under my feet.

The state in which I found Quintus had shocked me. The batch of slaves we went to see that day weren't criminals destined for extermination in the mines. This was supposed to be prime stock, the best of the best, and they were, except the boy in the cage's corner—Quintus.

More bones than flesh and skin, he was crouched in the dirtiest corner of the cage. His shoulder blades stuck out like wings and one arm hung, twisted out of joint. His dirty cheeks should have had a rut eaten away by tears, but he was past pain, so the mud layer was just cracking.

I didn't think Quintus was searching for anything beyond approaching Thanatos, when his gaze stopped at me. There were so many flies gathered on him, I didn't expect him to be alive. Yet he was, and his eyes were sane, with a flicker of the same defiance that shone in them now. So, I did what I did, and it was hard for me to remember that day.

For Quintus to be so determined to drag out this old story into the open... something about Victor must have riled him up beyond reason. He ignored my warning grunt, just like he ignored my orders, tilted his head forward and went on in a breathless, breaking, high-pitched voice.

"Since I was born, it was clear from my colors that I was a mongrel. I wasn't useless though." Quintus scoffed at me.

Mithras' bulls, I hoped he understood the name-calling was a negotiation tactic. I couldn't exactly call for the vigils or kick in the merchant's teeth, no matter how much my hands itched. I was a slave myself and the slaver was a law-abiding citizen of the Empire.

"Nah, a boy like me had one job on the borderlands of the Fidelis, to be a beating boy for a local lord. Whenever the Empire displeased my master, he took his boot to me, to do what he couldn't do to a Fidelis or to one of his own. And his guests..."

Quintus sucked in a shuddering breath, to replace some of the air he'd used up.

I didn't think he realized that everyone in the yard could hear him. I glared at the men who wasted curious glances on our side-show, and they swiveled them away, returning to their drills. Alas, I couldn't plug their ears the same way when Quintus resumed his rant.

"His guests! The proud chieftains, ever talking about the injustices done to their people and their lost freedoms! Their grievances ran ever deeper, so they beat ever harder on me. I was holding the bag for the Empire's slights to the barbarians for years."

I shook my head, hoping he would stop, but he pointed a finger at me.

"Until he... Until Maximus bought me to give me a chance to strike back. A Fidelis. So... there! Stop biting his head off, when he's trying... he's trying... he's just trying!"

There they were, the tears. Unspilled, eerily bringing me back to the day I met him, but thickening and wetting his voice.

I gripped Quintus' shoulder. It was rigid under my fingers. "I told you to keep quiet."