Two robed figures stood on the other side of the bars. Dael recognized the deep red cloak. His throat closed. No. It was impossible. Flavia had had a gift, but it wouldn't have saved her from death. While he'd been in a cell waiting to be sold again, or maybe when he'd been on the practice sands at Darius's ludi, Flavia had been executed. Or had she been? Dael had assumed, practiced the drills Flavia taught him as if he drilled enough times, she would tell him to correct his form.
Darius leered. "The matrons of Rome appreciate an excellent warrior."
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