Excerpt: Rise of the Phoenix

“Saw your match,” Caspian said as he doused the needle tip in the alcohol. “You’ve improved, I think.”

“I should hope so. You only have one would to sew up this time.” She’d had at least three the last time she visited him. One right across the thigh. When he’d sewn that one, she nearly came apart at the seams.

This time he laughed. “True, dear. True.” He threaded the needle and sighed. “I do hate to see you in here, though. Is there any chance of you getting out of the arena anytime soon?”

They’d had this conversation before. It always ended the same. She sighed.

“Only if I’m dead.” She didn’t like to think about that, even though it was the truth. The only way Caesar would let her go is if she was dead. That would be her freedom from this hell.

Either that or Caesar was overthrown and the next one would somehow free her. She knew that would never happen, though, and it was less than a glimmer of hope. The current Caesar had been firmly in place for the last nine years. Despite the rumblings she’d heard on the street about his questionable rule, she doubted anything would be done about it.

“Caesar’s reign can’t last forever,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He dabbed alcohol on a cloth and cleaned her wound. She stiffened with the stinging sensation.

Caspian seemed to hear her thoughts a lot and she wondered briefly how he managed it.

“That kind of talk will get you killed,” she warned. He jabbed the needle in her skin and she sucked in her breath sharply. “By the gods, Caspian…”

“I treat you no different than I treat the others,” he said.

She knew that was a lie. He did treat her different than the others. He took extra care with her and made sure she was well taken care of, especially after she came back wounded from her battles.

“There is blood lust in the Senate,” he continued, as though she’d never interrupted.

“Mind your tongue, Caspian,” she warned. “Saying such things will brand you as a traitor to Caesar. He’s had lesser men killed for it.”

“Bah,” he said, as though it mattered not. “I’m old as dirt anyway. Let him try. He’ll not find another healer as skilled as I am.”

That, she knew, was true. She kept her eyes on anything but his sewing of her wound. “It wouldn’t help my cause anyway.”

“It may not,” he agreed. “But at least with a new ruler, there could be a chance of freedom.”

“Freedom,” she repeated and scoffed at the word. She’d never known such bliss. “What should I do with myself if I were free?”

“Live your life,” he offered. “Marry, have children.”

To this she laughed. The last thing she’d ever thought of was marriage and children. She didn’t seem the type. “Hardly, Caspian.”

“Perhaps someday a young man will come along and sweep you off your feet.” He winked as he tied off the thread and snipped it. “You are young and beautiful.”

“And scarred,” she pointed out. “No man will have me.”

Caspian tossed his tools down and snatched up a mirror. He thrust it into her hands. “Look at this face and tell me it’s not beautiful.”

Elena scowled. Her face was smudged with dirt along the high cheekbones and chin. Her brown hair matted with sweat against her skull. Her bottom lip sported a cut and it was clear her nose had been broken once or twice. About the only thing she had going for her were her incredible long dark lashes and the pale brown eyes underneath that stared back at her.

She pushed Caspian’s hand away. “I see nothing beautiful there.” When she glanced back at him, he grimaced.

“Perhaps one day you’ll see what I see.”