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Forbidden To The Gladiator
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‘Hello, Brother,’ she said, giving him a gentle kick.
He lurched his head forward and gave a thready grin. ‘Hello, dear S-Sister. Lovely morning, is it not?’ Arria no longer nagged Clodius about his reckless spending on wine, for he had come to depend on it as others did bread.
‘You are drunk, Clodius,’ she said. And have managed to lose another tooth.
His crutches lay beside him, their dented wooden grooves tracing a history of tantrums. Humiliation was an ailment that even the medicine of drink seemed unable to cure.
‘Come, I will help you upstairs. Father and I have some news.’
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