You’ll do exactly what I or Dayrne or any of them tell you. If you don’t you’ll
be beaten until you do. It will break your spirit, or it will make you tougher
than ever before. I pray for the latter. If you agree, then you’ll learn every
trick and skill a gladiator could want, and you’ll learn from the best
teachers.” Chenaya walked a tight circle around her new pupil. “Whether that
will make you free or not …” She faced Daphne again and shrugged. There were
many kinds of freedom and many kinds of fear. But Daphne would have to learn
that for herself. “Now, say that you agree to my terms. Swear it before the
Bright Father, Savankala, himself.”
Daphne hugged the sword to her breast. The sunlight that reflected from the
blade made an amber blaze across her features as she swore. “By Savankala,” she
answered fervently. “But you won’t beat me, Chenaya. No one will. I’ll work
twice as hard as your best man.”
Chenaya hid a knowing grin. It was easy to say such a thing now. But when her
muscles began to crack, when the training machines knocked her to the ground,
after the first broken bone or the first slice of steel through skin- would she
still prove so eager?
“Then pay attention to Dayrne. He’ll be responsible for your daily regimen. Of
all the men I ever fought in the games only he gave me a dangerous cut.” She
showed the pale scar that ran the length of her left forearm. “Couldn’t bend or
use it for nearly a month. Some physicians even thought I would lose it.
Fortunately, the gods favored me.”
Daphne put on a smirk. “But I’ve heard rumors that you never lose.”