Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 10. The Bet Lost

Victor stopped next to me in front of the public bathhouse. His glance roved over the porticos where marble naiads caught the slipping folds of their skirts at the last moment before the round butt cheeks came into full view. Their furtive glances should have stayed on the bearded tritons snaking round their feet, with fishtails, conch shells and tridents—the allegory of trouble, if I'd ever seen one! The clever sculptor, however, made the naiads look straight at the passersby.

Victor gave naiads a sour look. "Their eyes are weird."

I was used to dead, white marble eyes, but I could see how it could be disconcerting. "The bathhouse was one of the first buildings erected by the first generation. Back then, the eyes would have been painted."

He didn't ask me why we didn't paint our statues anymore, and it was for the best, since the explanation was embarrassing for us. Instead, he measured the building up and down, left and right, with his eyes. "The Fidelis had built this monstrosity to wash?"

"Yes."

"Why? Is Barea-river not good enough for your tender parts?" He pointed to where the street bent before sloping toward the riverbank.

"We call this river Tiber."

Victor side-eyed me, before returning his gaze to the marble façade. I could tell that the carvings impressed him, despite his bile. He'd probably love the mosaics in the pool once we get there. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

"Barea-river." Victor tilted his forehead forward, reminding me of the rams during the mating season. Did he plan to batter down the bathhouse? With a head this thick, he might have succeeded. "Why isn't the river good enough for the Fidelis?"

The gust of wind took away my frustrated sigh. "Our forefathers came here from a warmer place, called Earth. Four generations have been born on Nanciscor—"

"Heshanki Cul," he said, burrowing his gaze into me.

If Victor thought I would give in, he was a fool. Not to mention I couldn't replicate his pronunciation. But I didn't want to fight so close to our destination. "Four generations have been born here since then, but we still like it hot."

"Then why don't you just go back?" he demanded. "To your warm land?"

"We can't go back, rookie."

"Why?" His lips curled back showing wide, healthy teeth.

Why did I feel that he already knew the answer to this question? Yet, like every Fidelis, I recited this yarn so much that it burrowed under my skull and came from the depth of my mind straight up. I couldn't help but answer his question.

"Three Victor legions fought a losing battle back on Earth. When extermination was inevitable, the shimmering gate opened up. Marcus Caelius, 1st centurion of XVIII, the Fidelia, led the retreat. The gateway had closed as soon as the last legionnaire was through and had never reopened. Our ancestors were trapped here, in this unwelcoming world we call Nanciscor."

That's how we said it in grammar school, word-for-word. I never doubted it. But when suspicion flickered in Victor's blue eyes, the familiar tale sounded... iffy. So, I raised my voice to override my reservations. "The survivors settled the land and Marcus Caelius, son of Titus, had become Victorian Caesar, the first Emperor of the Fidus Empire."

The wind chilled my skin, sweaty from walking. Even my good cloak wasn't enough to stave off the cold. I shivered and walked to the door, trusting Victor to keep up. He didn't move from his spot, chuckling.

I used the door-knocker. "Did I say something funny?"

"Our stories say our ancestors fled through a portal as well, only for our people this was the warmest place we had ever known."