Logline

Liliana Bellator's world is shattered when she witnesses her father's brutal murder by Centurion Atticus and is captured for the gladiator's arena. Fighting for her life and her family's honor, she faces deadly battles, conspiracies, and unexpected aid from Lieutenant Lucius as she searches for the truth about her father's death.

Blurb

Liliana Bellator is living a normal life-or at least, as normal as life can be in a small village-until the night her world shatters.

Witnessing her father's brutal murder by the ruthless Centurion Atticus, Liliana is thrust into captivity and destined for the gladiator's arena. Desperate to uphold her family's honor, she grapples with the realization that survival demands transformation. Amidst the violence of the Colosseum, questions arise about her father's death.

Was it truly an accident or part of a darker conspiracy? With only the enigmatic Lieutenant Lucius offering any hope of assistance, Lily must navigate treachery and uncover the truth, all while fighting for her life and her family's legacy.

Chapter 1

"Amburgh has fallen!"

Collective gasps filled the room, and women clutched their children close to their bosoms. Amburgh was merely two days' travel from our home of Bramblewood. The Jadhullians were pressing ever closer to us, slowly pinching us off from the rest of the world. I hung closer to Papa, finding comfort in his presence.

"Gone. Its people are dead, and the buildings have been destroyed. I don't know where they're heading next." The grizzled old farmer trudged forward on trembling legs, eyes darting every which way. His hat was clutched in shaking hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his neck. He must have ridden all night to get here. "I barely escaped with my life. We're all doomed!"

Instead of the festive atmosphere I had hoped to be in tonight, the air was pregnant with brooding tension. Where there should have been laughter, braised meat roasting over the fire, and all the usual meaningless festivities of a late autumn commemoration, it was silent.

Overbearingly silent.

The heat from the central fire in the town hall felt blisteringly hot against my face as I stared out across the solemn faces of my fellow townsfolk washed in the pumpkin-orange light. Looming shadows stretched far above our heads and danced on the darkened walls, misshapen and distorted, giving me the impression of some ancient tribal ritual. The stale scent of hot sweat and old ale permeated the very air, seeping into my nostrils with every breath intended to calm my racing heart.

The older man who had called the town meeting, Ferris Thorne, hobbled to the center of the room until the fire silhouetted him. Searing blue eyes scanned our faces, and I angled myself behind Papa's arm to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.

"The Jadhullian Empire grows stronger every day." He licked his thin lips, eyes narrowing toward the rafters. "Soldiers press farther into the Westramore every day. Our leaders fail us. Our armies weaken. We need to do something."

"What would you suggest?" a woman called from the crowd.

Ferris bowed his head. His gnarled, freckled fingers raked through thick white hair. "Long have I served you all as your faithful counselor. Therefore, I hope you will all heed my advice." Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to echo through the chamber. "We should surrender."

The response was immediate. An outraged uproar erupted from the villagers. The noise reverberated through the hall. Men leaped to their feet, shouting their arguments with fire blazing in their eyes. My hands flew to my ears, eyes wide. Surrender? To the Jadhullians? Even I knew that was a terrible idea. Papa's strong arm draped over my shoulders, pulling me securely against his side.

"Don't worry, Lily," he said, looking down with a tight smile. "All will be well."

"I know." I nodded, trying my best to return his smile. My stomach rolled on itself. Pools of sweat formed on my palms. Everything was changing so fast. For so long, the war had been far away. Now it was at our doorsteps and—

"I say we fight!" A single voice rose above the sound of the crowd, and it made my heart sink.

Elon Greycliff.

Turning slowly, I grimaced. He pushed through the crowd of angry men, chin lifted like some arrogant prat. One above, I hated him. Never in my twenty-two years of life had I ever met someone with such a deep-set desire for violence. It had been that way since we were children, and it seemed to worsen with time.

Even the way he looked hinted at his natural-given talent for aggression. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles from years of toiling in his family's fields growing their crop. So many of the young girls fawned over him. I never saw the appeal. His face was angular like a fox's, and his nose was hooked like an eagle's beak, giving him a predatory appearance. His eyes, cold and intense, gleamed with all the cunning of a snake coiling to strike. Yet, despite his appearance, he was a fool.

Ferris turned to face him, chin tucking down toward his chest. "Ah. Young Elon. Always so ready to jump into the fray."

Elon sneered down at him and motioned to the crowd. "This old man would rather us surrender to the enemy. I say we fight. Too long have the Jadhullians crossed our borders, taken our crops, married our women."

Murmurs of agreement rolled through the crowd like a wave. If Elon were given enough talking time, he would have these farmers going out to fight the soldiers with their pitchforks.

"Papa," I whispered, tugging his sleeve. "Do something."

"I will. Just wait, Lily."

I watched him scan the crowd, jaw set and eyes hooded. He heaved a sigh and glanced down at me. I held onto his arm, fingers digging into the sleeve of his old sweater, trying to convey all my thoughts to him through my eyes. Elon was going to muster the men, take them from their homes, and leave us women completely defenseless. Their eyes were lit with the desire for war, to defend their homeland. My heart beat against its cage.

"There are pockets of a rebellion rising all across our kingdom." Elon continued, facing his audience with arms outstretched like some deity-sent savior. "We still have time. We can ride to the larger city and join the cause."

Papa sighed, dragging his gaze away from me as he stepped forward. "We don't have time for that, Elon. By the time we hit the road, we'll be overtaken by the soldiers."

"Daron." Elon raked his eyes over Papa and stepped back as he approached.

Next to Elon, Papa was formidable. While he was not the tallest man in the room, no one could deny his commanding presence. Broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and built like a bull, Papa commanded every room he walked into. He walked toward Elon until the young man melted into the rest of the crowd, hugging the wall like a cowed dog.

Kind grey eyes scanned the room, resting on me for a split second before he addressed the crowd. "The Jadhullian army is unstoppable. If we fight back, we are as good as dead. If we had more warning, I would have been the first to tell you all we needed to leave. I fear they are already halfway here." Papa's voice boomed through the hall like thunder. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "Our best chance of survival is to seek shelter within the forest and let them pass. I know how the Jadhullians work. They want to instill fear into us and make us beg for our lives. We will lose our lives if we fight now."

"What if they burn the village?" a man shouted from the back.

Papa drew in a deep breath. "Then let them. Better the village than us. We can always rebuild. Scatter to the four winds in the meantime. Hide what and where you can."

A hush fell over the crowd. People glanced at each other, men sank back down into their seats, and the tension dissipated into thin air. No one would dare argue with a man who had once lived in Jadhull himself, who had proven time and time again that his word was wise. Relief washed through me as the desire to fight vanished from the villagers. They were not soldiers. None of us were. Papa always knew precisely what was needed. How many times had this happened in the past? A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Ferris nodded, limping forward to rest his hand on Papa's shoulder. "Wise words. Let us disperse and return to our homes to prepare."

A quiet hum filled the air as the villagers moved, gathering their families to return to their homesteads with a clear plan on what to do.

Papa turned to me, ushering me forward with a wave of his hand. "Liliana. Come. It's time to go."

Rushing forward, I hooked our arms together. "What are we going to do, Papa?"

Worry tightened the skin around his eyes and wrinkled the creases of his forehead. He sighed again, the corners of his mouth pulling downward. "We're going home. There's much to discuss and prepare. Should worse come to worse..."

"Okay. Okay." I nodded, following him through the din of people.

So much was happening. My mouth felt like cotton, and I tried to swallow, finding it nearly impossible. Glancing up, I scanned the room as we exited—a pair of glimmering, sharp eyes locked with mine. Elon stared at me from across the room, head ducked down. He crooked his head, flicking his gaze to Papa before he nudged his fellow miscreants, and they disappeared out of sight.

A chill crawled its way up my spine. There was one thing I was sure of in the depths of my soul. If Elon could have it his way, he would ensure he had blood on his hands before the world ended.