The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(15)
“The dimachaerus style is a challenge, I admit,” he said. “But I wanted to be able to spar with you the way you like to fight, Fallon. As you say, I need work. But I was hoping you might find the time—”
That was as far as he got before I lunged at him, reaching up to pull his head down toward me, and silencing him with the kiss I’d been waiting on for months. And months . . .
From his reaction, it seemed he’d been waiting on it too. I felt a rumbling in his chest that was almost a growl, and his mouth opened hungrily on mine. His arms wrapped around me and he lifted me off the ground. He smelled of horse and iron and leather and he tasted of salt and sunshine.
“Never seen anyone fight with their lips like that,” Elka called out as she passed through one archway and out another, in a perfect example of terrible timing.
I groaned. It seemed we’d have to wait a bit longer to make up for all those months apart. Cai put me back down on my feet, and I reluctantly disentangled myself from his embrace. As I turned to glare daggers in Elka’s direction, I saw Cai’s friend, Quintus, following in her wake, just far enough behind that Elka hadn’t yet noticed him.
I shook my head in amusement.
“He’s an ass.” Cai sighed, watching him go. “But he’s a loyal ass. And a good soldier.”
“Elka will take him apart, you know,” I said.
Cai grinned wickedly. “Piece by piece. That should keep the two of them occupied for a while and give us some time alone.” Then he looked at me wordlessly, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was suddenly uncertain what to say. “I’ve missed you, Fallon . . .”
I started to tell him I’d missed him too—so very much—but then Kronos, the fight master, appeared at the far end of the pitch to shout my name. I’d forgotten that I was on weapons-check duty that day. In truth, I’d forgotten everything except for Cai standing in front of me. But there was an entire shed full of swords and shields that needed inspection, checking for loosened tangs and dulled edges and fraying leather strapping. It would take me the better part of the afternoon.
“Go,” Cai said with a rueful smile. “I need to deliver Caesar’s deed to the Lanista, anyway.”
“You mean—”
“That’s the official reason I’m here,” he said. “And one of the most pleasant duties I’ve been privileged to perform as Caesar’s errand boy.”
“Cai, that’s . . . that’s wonderful!”
I held myself back from hugging him again, because there were others now drifting back onto the pitch from the dining hall. I could sense one of the Ludus Amazona guards staring at us from behind his helmet grate, and the last thing I needed was to cause a scene and start rumors about lax discipline and loose morals at the Achillea school. Sorcha would have my hide—especially now that the ludus was about to become finally, fully hers. And hers alone.
I stepped back, politely inclining my head and letting my hair fall forward so I could smile at Cai without anyone else taking note. “I’ll see you at the evening meal then, decurion?”
“And after,” Cai murmured. “I hope.”
IV
IT’S POSSIBLE I might have taken a bit longer than usual dressing for dinner that evening. Normally, I wouldn’t trouble myself much beyond washing my face and hands and making sure whatever tunic I was wearing wasn’t torn or stained too badly. Which was probably why Ajani glanced at me sideways when I arrived at the mess hall with my hair combed out and wearing a fresh, fine wool tunic bordered in a blue wave pattern and belted with my good leather cincher.
“I wouldn’t have thought the Amazona girls warranted such finery,” she said as I sat down beside her with a platter of cheese and meat.
“They don’t,” Elka chimed in, reaching across the table to pilfer a bunch of grapes off Ajani’s plate. “He does.”
She nodded in the direction of Cai and his soldier companions, who’d just stepped through the door at the other end of the hall. It was with a degree of extravagant casualness that Cai threaded his way through the rows of long tables with his platter and mug, Quint and the legionnaire whose name, I’d learned, was Tullius following him.
“May we join you, ladies?” Cai asked the table at large.
I murmured assent with my eyes on my plate as the others nodded and laughed, shifting down the bench to make room for them. Cai sat across from me, beside Elka, and I had to force myself to concentrate on eating and not distractedly stabbing my hand instead of my food, as I felt his gaze warming my skin. The girls crowded in, eagerly asking Cai and his companions all sorts of questions about the campaign and Hispania.
“I hear the girls there are beautiful,” Elka said, nudging my shin under the table and smirking.
“They are as nothing compared to you divine nymphs,” Quint enthused and then went on to wax poetic until Gratia lobbed a hard roll at his head and informed him that she was from Hispania.
As the girls hooted with laughter, I leaned in toward Cai. “In all seriousness,” I said, “what in the world are you doing here if Caesar’s legions are still on campaign? And before you say ‘Caesar’s errand boy’ again, don’t. I’m sure he has couriers aplenty.”
Cai hesitated, but Quint joined in our conversation, adding, “And it wasn’t as if you were in the consul’s tent for the whole of a dinner hour begging on bended knee for the job, after all.”