Desire of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

could think of just to keep pace in the ludus. Other gladiators were bigger, stronger, faster, or blessed with some god-given talent that Conall had never had. All he could do was work—and when he wasn’t working himself to capacity, he knew that he was falling behind.
    And if he faltered, at all, if he stopped for a moment, then there a deep blackness waiting for him somewhere in his soul. He did not understand the blackness. It was some great bleakness of his soul, making futile everyday things like washing or eating—but he knew that staying busy kept it at bay.
    And he knew that dedicating himself to an ideal was the best way to stay busy.
    Fight through it .
    That was the advice from another old, good friend, Lucius. A gladiator himself. And the advice had been sound.
    Fighting was what Conall did, and a fighter was what he was.
    But at times, even that dedication tired him. And being injured was a perfect time to rest. He held no expectations for himself while he was hurt. There was no impetus to train—because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to train in the future. All he had to do—his one duty—was to recover.
    This was as close to relaxed as Conall became—grievously hurt after a fight and waiting for his body to put itself together again.
    “How was the fight?” asked Caius.
    “You weren’t there?”
    “I don’t go to the arena. You know that.”
    Caius had lost his taste for the gladiatorial games when he retired. Or even before he retired, to hear him tell it. Conall knew, he just liked to tease the man.
    “It was a decent fight,” said Conall. “Not my best. But it got the crowd excited. They’ll want to see me again.”
    “I’m sure they will,” murmured Aeliana. “They love to watch a man kill himself for them.”
    “Don’t be like that,” said Conall. “I’ve no interest in killing myself.”
    “And you’ve no interest in staying alive either, it seems.” She tapped his knee and stood up. “It’s not my place, Conall. I’m not your medicae and I’m not your mother. But you may want to think about what else you could be doing with your life here.”
    Conall frowned. What was it with medicae and telling him to quit? This was two times now in as many days.
    “It isn’t as though Publius is romping down here in the cell blocks and handing out options, Aeliana. I’m a gladiator. Gladiators fight.”
    She opened her mouth, as if to speak again, but Caius put a hand on her shoulder. He nodded with his head, gesturing for her to step outside. Aeliana did not seem to like this, but she nodded.
    “I apologize if I offended you, Conall.” She patted his leg. “I just wish to see you well. You’re a good friend.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    When she was gone, Caius sat down on the stool next to his bed.
    “She does care about you, you know.”
    “I know that.”
    “We both do. You’re easy to care about, Conall. You’ve got a big heart.”
    Conall nodded, hoping his face was receptive to that bit of affection. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond. All these people caring for him—caring about him—made him feel as if they thought he was weak.
    If there was one thing in the world that Conall hated being cast as, it was weak.
    He felt in him the strongest stuff in the world if only once, just once in this damned life, he could be tested how he deserved.
    A part of him wished dearly he could have talked to Leda right then. That he could have shown her how truly tough he was—that even a beating like what he had received in the arena wasn't enough to shake out his affection for her.
    It was stupid, gladiator logic, but by the gods, he was a gladiator, wasn't he?
    “Aeliana and I have been talking a lot,” said Caius. “We hear from Lucius. He goes to the fights once in a while. He saw you last night. He’d be here now, except he’s busy with his school.”
    Lucius and his wife, Gwenn, ran a school that trained bodyguards for wealthy Roman citizens. It dawned on