Read Online The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath) by Nadia Aidan - Free Book Online
Authors: Nadia Aidan
Tags: Romance
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Primus. She knew she should simply ignore him and his band of followers, but she could not trust her back to these men anymore, and she refused to tolerate blatant disregard.
Aurora could accept open disdain and being ignored, but she would never accept being pushed around and disrespected. She had earned her place in the arena, at the least, she deserved respect.
“I said, which one of you tripped me?”
The lot of them continued to snicker, but Primus’ vacant stare was cold, almost sinister. She shuddered at the look within his eyes, a look she’d glimpsed in others many times before.
He was not to be trusted. The rest of the recruits were pranksters, but Primus was spiteful, he was dangerous.
Realizing he was too cowardly to admit what he’d done, Aurora decided to let it be and started to turn around, but at the last instance she caught a flash of movement out the corner of her eye.
With lightning speed, she spun around to face them, her sword arm blocking thewooden gladius one of them hurled through the air at her head. The blade scraped her skin as she deflected it, the nick of pain barely noticeable.
With her own short sword raised, and her shield in her hand she bounded through the air, Primus her sole target, for he was the only one of them without a gladius within his hand.
What came after Aurora would barely remember. In that moment she was not Aurora, the woman who’d escaped a life of blood in the arena, a life in chains as a slave to the perversions of bloodthirsty men and their sordid lusts. In that moment she was Aurora who’d fought her way through the ranks to become champion, she was the woman who’d endured the pain of the lash more than any other for her defiance, her insolence.
Looking at Primus and the cruelty in his eyes, she saw only the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of others who were equally cruel, equally perverse. Aurora swung her shield, striking him against the face with the full force of her strength. He crumpled to the ground, and she released her sword and shield to grasp his tunica , her other hand balling into a fist to slam into his jaw.
She did not know how long she struck him, or how many times.
She did not hear Cyrus calling her name in the distance.
She did not even feel the wetness upon her cheeks.
The only thing that stopped her was the stinging slap of the whip against her back.
Bone chilling pain shot through her with the first strike. It could have been worse. She’d been whipped enough times to know— he could have struck her much harder.
Aurora twisted around.
When the next strike came, she lifted her arm, catching the end of the whip so that it curled around her wrist.
Cyrus pulled on the whip, and she pulled back, their gazes clashing, locking.
“Release it, Aurora.”
Her eyes blazed, along with her temper. He recognized the defiance upon her face so he said again, his voice a deadly whisper. “Release the whip.”
The hard, cold edge of his tone sliced through her, wrenching her from the red haze of fury she’d been blinded by just moments ago.
It all rushed back to her then, and she turned to see Primus sprawled atop the ground, his head at an unnatural angle, a physician already tending to him.
Every gaze in the arena rested upon her—and most glittered with a combination of astonishment and respect. A few appeared as if they were prepared to murder her where she stood. Those few were the same men who’d huddled beside Primus laughing at her.
She pierced them with narrowed eyes, and they shrank back, the cowards that they were. Had they been true men, and genuine friends, they would have pulled her off of Primus, instead of standing witness to his beating.
A gentle tug against her wrist reminded her she still held the other end of the whip. She twisted her arm until it fell to the ground.
Cyrus called an end to their day of training at the same time two of the guards carried Primus’ limp body from the arena to the
Aurora could accept open disdain and being ignored, but she would never accept being pushed around and disrespected. She had earned her place in the arena, at the least, she deserved respect.
“I said, which one of you tripped me?”
The lot of them continued to snicker, but Primus’ vacant stare was cold, almost sinister. She shuddered at the look within his eyes, a look she’d glimpsed in others many times before.
He was not to be trusted. The rest of the recruits were pranksters, but Primus was spiteful, he was dangerous.
Realizing he was too cowardly to admit what he’d done, Aurora decided to let it be and started to turn around, but at the last instance she caught a flash of movement out the corner of her eye.
With lightning speed, she spun around to face them, her sword arm blocking thewooden gladius one of them hurled through the air at her head. The blade scraped her skin as she deflected it, the nick of pain barely noticeable.
With her own short sword raised, and her shield in her hand she bounded through the air, Primus her sole target, for he was the only one of them without a gladius within his hand.
What came after Aurora would barely remember. In that moment she was not Aurora, the woman who’d escaped a life of blood in the arena, a life in chains as a slave to the perversions of bloodthirsty men and their sordid lusts. In that moment she was Aurora who’d fought her way through the ranks to become champion, she was the woman who’d endured the pain of the lash more than any other for her defiance, her insolence.
Looking at Primus and the cruelty in his eyes, she saw only the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of others who were equally cruel, equally perverse. Aurora swung her shield, striking him against the face with the full force of her strength. He crumpled to the ground, and she released her sword and shield to grasp his tunica , her other hand balling into a fist to slam into his jaw.
She did not know how long she struck him, or how many times.
She did not hear Cyrus calling her name in the distance.
She did not even feel the wetness upon her cheeks.
The only thing that stopped her was the stinging slap of the whip against her back.
Bone chilling pain shot through her with the first strike. It could have been worse. She’d been whipped enough times to know— he could have struck her much harder.
Aurora twisted around.
When the next strike came, she lifted her arm, catching the end of the whip so that it curled around her wrist.
Cyrus pulled on the whip, and she pulled back, their gazes clashing, locking.
“Release it, Aurora.”
Her eyes blazed, along with her temper. He recognized the defiance upon her face so he said again, his voice a deadly whisper. “Release the whip.”
The hard, cold edge of his tone sliced through her, wrenching her from the red haze of fury she’d been blinded by just moments ago.
It all rushed back to her then, and she turned to see Primus sprawled atop the ground, his head at an unnatural angle, a physician already tending to him.
Every gaze in the arena rested upon her—and most glittered with a combination of astonishment and respect. A few appeared as if they were prepared to murder her where she stood. Those few were the same men who’d huddled beside Primus laughing at her.
She pierced them with narrowed eyes, and they shrank back, the cowards that they were. Had they been true men, and genuine friends, they would have pulled her off of Primus, instead of standing witness to his beating.
A gentle tug against her wrist reminded her she still held the other end of the whip. She twisted her arm until it fell to the ground.
Cyrus called an end to their day of training at the same time two of the guards carried Primus’ limp body from the arena to the
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