The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(53)

I smiled to myself as I wandered back to settle down on the stack of folded sailcloth I’d slept next to, waiting for Cai to return with breakfast. My stomach actually growled at the thought of food, and I took that as a good sign for my returning strength.

The other girls were scattered in small groups spread out along the deck. Some of them, I suspected, had never been out on the open sea before. And even for those who had—myself and Elka included—it was a disconcertingly foreign experience. Not just the motion of the ship on the waves, but the fact that the land had disappeared behind us, with nothing to indicate that there was anything but water and more water ahead. I saw more than one fearless gladiatrix glance nervously out over the rolling waves, searching for terra firma.

Eventually, though, the unease gave way to mere queasy boredom.

“What’s the matter with them?” Cai asked me once we’d finished breakfast and the sun had climbed high into the sky. He too had sensed the growing restlessness among my fellow gladiatrices.

“I think they need something to keep them occupied,” I said.

Cai pondered that for a moment, then said, “I have an idea.”

He gestured me over to the side of the ship and reached over the rail to hoist up two of the round shields that decorated the sides. I laughed and shook my head. “Do you remember what happened the last time you and I fought and there was a shield involved?” I asked.

“You cracked my rib.” He grinned back at me. “How could I possibly forget?”

“And you want to risk that again?”

“I do not.” He shot me a look from under a raised eyebrow. “Between you and that bear, I’ve recently found myself inclined to watch others hurt themselves instead.”

“Oh, I like the sound of this,” Quintus said, wandering up.

I’d noticed Quint had no trouble with his sea legs. Likely the result of having come from a Corsican fishing village, where he’d probably learned to ride the bobbing waves astride a skiff before he could walk on land.

“You like the sound of what?” Elka asked, pushing herself up from where she’d been dozing fitfully on a deck bench.

“Fighting,” Cai said. “Us against you. Well, Quint against you.”

Elka snorted and knotted her arms across her chest, eyeing Quint up and down. “Your kind doesn’t fight, soldier boy,” she said. “You just hide behind your shields and wait until the real warriors tire themselves out.”

“That’s not true!” Quint protested. “Also? It’s called strategy. And it’s not as easy as you’d think.”

One by one, the other girls wandered up to join us, drawn by battle talk.

“You fight like insects,” Vorya sneered. “It’s mindless. Boring.”

“I didn’t know war was supposed to be entertaining,” Quint countered.

“Then you’ve never seen us fight,” Kore said, and earned a shoulder punch from Thalassa. “Or you wouldn’t say such a thing. We’d get your blood pumping, that’s for sure!”

Elka and I exchanged a glance, and I hid a grin behind my hand. The two of us had been fighting as gladiatrices for less than the span of a full year, but the younger girls on that boat were a whole new generation of firebrands, eager to prove themselves out on the sand. Nephele was nodding in vigorous agreement, and I was pretty certain she’d taken her oath only two months back. She hadn’t even seen real exhibition combat yet.

In the face of Quint’s argument, that didn’t seem to matter. And he remained undaunted in his debate. “That’s the thing, though,” he said, responding to Kore’s assertion. “Isn’t it?”

“What thing?” Devana asked.

“His pumping thing?” Anat said with a feigned innocence that turned Quint scarlet with blushing. “What about it?”

“The thing I’m talking about, you ridiculous creatures, is discipline. Teamwork. It’s all very well and good to get out there and face off in single combat. But what if you’ve got a whole army coming at you?”

Devana shrugged. “You fight? Same as one-on-one.”

“But it’s not!” Quint said, gesturing triumphantly, as if she’d just clearly and succinctly made his point for him. The girls just looked at each other, shrugging, and Quint huffed a sigh and tried again. “Look,” he said. “You’ve got attackers coming at you from all sides. There’re arrows and slingshot raining down from above. Men behind you, men in front of you, men to the right, to the left; if you fall, your own army’ll walk right over you. So you’d better not fall.”

“Sounds horrid,” Hestia said. “Dishonorable.”

“How does anyone survive?” Devana asked.

Quint hefted the shield. “Defense.”

“I prefer offense,” Gratia said, holding out her arm and curling her fingers into a fist with a loud succession of knuckle pops.

“Then I’ll see you again on the banks of the River Styx,” Quint said, and swept the shield suddenly to the side, knocking Gratia’s fist away as if it were a bothersome horsefly. “But you’ll get there a long while before me. Because I’ll be going home and straight to the taverna for a cool jug of wine after a successful campaign. And another. And another. And you’ll all be bleached bones in a meadow.”