Bride of the Emperor (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  Not quite knights and Vikings, but more like a Roman empire-type vibe, maybe that’s because of the stranger’s helmet and naked chest, along with his sword, his shield, and his tiny man-skirt.

  A man-skirt that I didn’t think could be attractive. I was wrong. The man-skirt is hot. He is fucking hot, at least his body is, I didn’t see his face. I can’t imagine he would have a butter face though. I have a feeling all of him matches in equal hotness.

  I bounce on the bed a little to test out the mattress. I don’t know what the filling is, but it’s softer than I imagined it would be in a place like this. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I swallow my tears and fears.

  There is no reason to be scared.

  Not because there is nothing to fear, but there is nothing that I can do about this situation. So, wherever I am, whoever has me, I can only hope that I’ll survive this. Then something slides through me.

  My sisters.

  Could they be here or somewhere near?

  My mom had those dreams and was convinced they’re in another time or dimension or something. Maybe they’re here. I don’t know, but now instead of scared out of my brain, the way that I probably should be, I’m a little excited for what could be coming my way.

  The door swings open and I lift my head, expecting to see the hottie with the helmet, but that isn’t who meets my gaze. Instead, there is a small woman standing in front of me. She’s gorgeous.

  Absolutely stunning.

  She has dark glossy hair and dark brown eyes that are kind as she assesses me. Sliding my gaze down her body, I can’t believe how stunning she is. Her floor-length drapey gown is deep burgundy, and she has intricate golden rope twisting and knotted all around to enhance her small waist and highlight her breasts.

  She looks exactly like a Roman goddess, even her dark hair is twisted and knotted into an updo enhanced by the same golden ropes. She’s even wearing makeup.

  My breath hitches when she takes another step inside, another woman is next to her, she’s taller with dark hair and dark eyes as well, but she always stays a few steps behind this petite goddess.

  She smiles, then lifts her arm and places her hand on her chest. “Cassia,” she states as she pats her chest. Then she repeats herself. “Cassia.”

  Then, she lifts her hand and places her palm on the center of my chest before she tilts her head to the side in a silent question.

  “Drucilla,” I say with a smile.

  “Dru-cilla,” she says slowly, my name on her accented lips is absolutely gorgeous.

  Nodding, I lift my hand and place my palm against her chest. “Cassia,” I say with a small smile.

  She returns my smile, then lifts her hand. “Petronia,” she says, introducing the girl standing behind her.

  Then she says some other words and I shake my head, because I do not understand a single thing that she’s just said to me. When she realizes that I understand nothing, she giggles. She looks back at the taller woman, who mutters something before she points to my feet.

  Cassia’s head tips down and she lets out a short gasp. I don’t know what is so horrifying, that is, until I follow their gaze and look down to my feet as well.

  They’re hideous.

  My feet are completely caked with mud and grass, they are a mess, all the way up to my ankles, then as I continue to look over myself, I realize that I forgot I was wearing only a bikini. Lifting my head, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and shake my head a couple of times.

  “I am a mess,” I whisper slowly, hoping that she will understand me.

  She gives me a wide smile, but there is no understanding in her gaze. Instead, she reaches out and wraps her hand around mine, then tugs me forward.

  There is a man who stands in front of the doorway just as we are about to walk out of the room.

  Cassia stops, then looks over her shoulder to me and rolls her eyes. “Brutus,” she says with a long exhale.

  He looks me over, his frown stays completely in place as he assesses me, then he lets out a grunt as Cassia rattles something to him. He shakes his head once, then jerks his chin before he stands to the side.

  Following behind Cassia, though I don’t have a choice because she has a firm grip on my hand in hers and is practically pulling me along behind her. We walk down the long stone hallway, then turn to the right, then walk some more before we turn to the left.

  We make our way into a room. I don’t know what I expect, but I did not expect what I actually see. I let out a gasp of surprise. Baths. Not just one, but several natural-looking pools and I remember this in history class. I let out a squeal of excitement because I remember the Romans had indoor plumbing.

  Cassia walks me over to a bath that is around a corner, then dips her chin as if she wants me to get inside. But before I can even take a step, Petronia tugs on the string of my bikini top and it falls to the floor in one swift move.

  I cry out, covering my breasts, but this only makes Cassia giggle, then my bottom strings are untied simultaneously and here I am completely naked in the middle of some old-fashioned, Roman bath.

  Cassia extends her arm to urge me to go inside. I do, but not because I necessarily want to, but because I’m dirty and feel pretty damn gross. I want to be clean. As soon as my toe touches the warm water, I let out a moan and almost too quickly dive inside.

  Almost as soon as I’m submerged in the water, two women walk from behind a piece of stone carrying baskets. They drop rose petals into the water, then walk in with me. I glance around, my eyes darting from Cassia to Petronia, to Cassia again as the women begin to swim toward me.

  I back up until I slam into the stone wall with a hiss. The women don’t stop, Cassia calls out my name then says something in a soothing voice. I assume she’s telling me to calm down, but it hits me all of a sudden.

  I’m naked, in here with strangers, and these women are swimming toward my naked body, all smiles. I am not in Florida. I am not at home, and I am not okay. I whimper as they come to my side. I do what I’ve always done when faced with any type of danger—I retreat.

  Pinching my eyes closed, I whimper again right before I feel their hands slide down my arm, then under my pits, then warm water is poured on my head. I realize they aren’t there to hurt me, they’re here to bathe me.

  And I let them.

  Partly because I’m scared, partly because I’m vain and it’s nice to be pampered and I know that says a lot about who I am. I’ve never denied that I’m all about pleasing myself, about self-care and pampering. That’s exactly what this is and I am all for it.

  TIBERIUS

  The gods did not disappoint. They did not disappoint in the slightest when they fated this creature as my own. She is beautiful. She is a goddess in her own right. However, she will never want me. One look at my face, one look at the monster that I am, and she will turn her cheek, she will run.

  I would expect nothing less.

  If I am to create and heir and fulfill the gods’ prophecy, then I will need to ensure that she does not see my face until my seed is planted and my heir grows. I will have to lay with her in the dark of night.

  “She is a vision,” Marcellus announces.

  Nodding, I shift my gaze to my discarded helmet, then shift back to him. He is handsome. He has not been scarred by war, he has not been hardened by battle. Marcellus was the second son and was educated.

  Though, as the first it would have been me, I had no desire to stay here. My father ensured that I was trained in war, and I was glad for it. Honestly, I have no doubt that he hoped I would fall in battle so that Marcellus, or anyone else, would take over as the Emperor of Savona—anyone but me.

  It was fine with me that he did not want me as his successor. I wished to have my life ended shortly in battle, it would have made things much easier. My father detested me, detested my mother, but held great affection for both Marcellus and his mother.

  Our father did not hide how he felt about his wives or his children. Ever. Turning t
o Marcellus, I clear my throat.

  “Will you pretend to be me?” I ask.

  His body jerks, his eyes widen and he lets out a breath. “The gods, Tib. We cannot. Deceiving her, deceiving them, it would anger them. I make it a point to never be on the receiving end of the gods’ wrath.”

  I shake my head, my eyes finding his and holding them. “Not for the whole time, just in the daylight. The nights are mine.”

  “Tib,” he warns.

  “The beast said she must fall in love with me. That she must desire me. These things will not happen if she sees my face,” I snap.

  Marcellus shakes his head. His gaze turns from worry to pity, and I hate it. Despise it. I want to challenge him just for the look on his face, but I don’t. I need him too badly. He looks enough like I did when I was younger, the ladies enjoy his face, and she will too.

  “The ruse would only have to last until she is with child,” I explain, attempting to keep calm.

  “If she is to love you, Tib, she will not worry over some scarring.”

  “Some?” I ask.

  He snorts, his gaze finding mine. “The bear did a number on your face, but you are not the only man to have fought with a beast and won, then had to deal with the consequences of fighting with the said beast.”

  I chuckle. “Indeed, I am not the only one, however, I see the way people look at me.”

  Marcellus watches me for a moment and shakes his head. “Dear brother, they look at you as they would look at any emperor. You are their ruler, they have just been through the reign of our father. They are wary, but eventually they will warm up to you. Plus, you aren’t the most personable or jovial man I have ever met.”

  “I am not jovial?” I ask, feigning surprise.

  A smile plays on his lips. “I will do this for you, but only because I love you. You will tell her the truth though?”

  Locking eyes with Marcellus, I nod my head. Though, I don’t give him a time frame. There is no need for it. I will tell her in my own time, which will be after she is with child, perhaps even after that child is born and it proves to be the boy that I need, the heir to the empire.

  “I will,” I agree.

  He arches a brow, holding my gaze with his own, but doesn’t call me on my lie. Though, it is truly not a lie, I will tell her. Just not in the timeline that he would probably prefer, I am sure. It will be on my time. Not his, not anyone else’s.

  It will be after she is with child, when she carries my son.

  Chapter Three

  DRUCILLA

  After the weirdest, yet most luxurious bath I have ever had in my life, Cassia had Petronia wrap me in a thick linen cloth, then a thin but soft robe, before setting a pair of slippers in front of me.

  I slide my feet into the slippers, they are hard-soled with some type of fur lining and they feel amazing. Then, I follow behind them as they guide me back to my room.

  Surprisingly, once I am in the room, they strip the robe and linen from me until I am completely naked. I try to cover myself, but they don’t pay me any attention at all whatsoever.

  Next, they wrap a light blue dress around me, then with the same golden type roping they wrap me all up to look just like them. Finally, they do my hair, and it is freaking badass. My blonde hair is braided, knotted, twisted, and pinned in a fancy as shit updo.

  At least that’s how I guess my hair is, because this is some alternate world and they don’t have mirrors. But before the women leave, they put a bunch of stuff from these small pots on my face. Hopefully it’s makeup, and again, hopefully, I don’t look like a clown. But by the way they smile at me and nod, I assume I meet their approval.

  Returning their smile with one of my own, I can’t help but lift my hand and touch my hair. It feels really freaking awesome and I wish that I could see it.

  “Manducare,” Cassia says, lifting her fingers to her mouth a couple of times.

  I stare at her for a moment, then she makes a chewing motion overly dramatically, then it dawns on me. Eating. Food. At the thought of food, my stomach growls, loudly. Cassia giggles, then nods her head enthusiastically.

  Reaching out to her, I wrap my hand around hers and for whatever reason, I decide that I need to tell her thank you. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but she was nice, really nice, and for a moment, being with her, I forgot to be terrified.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  She smiles, wrapping her fingers around my wrist, and smiles even wider. She and Petronia leave me a few moments later and I find that I miss them immediately. Biting the corner of my lip, I turn from the door and do what I always do when I’m in a new place alone—I snoop.

  A wave of sadness rolls through me at the thought of snooping, knowing that Birdie is the same way. This was something we would usually do together. And it’s not for any other reason other than we’re just curious. Too curious for our own good.

  I miss her.

  I miss all of my sisters.

  I was kind of a bitch to Birdie the last time that I spoke to her, I should have taken time off of work. I should have gone to her and I should have gone to Sybilla’s place.

  I should have checked on them.

  I should have done more.

  What I shouldn’t have done was acted like the selfish bitch the way that I always do. Birdie said it without saying it, but I knew what she meant and she wasn’t wrong. I’m a child. I’m self-absorbed and a child.

  I’ve spent my time partying, staying completely on the surface with all of my relationships. I’ve kept myself untouchable, and I’m just realizing that I didn’t just do it with the men in my life, I’ve been doing it with my own family too.

  There is a wardrobe and I tug the doors open. I’m taken aback, it has clothing in it. In fact, it’s completely full and there is a mixture of long drapey robes and teeny tiny man-skirts.

  I’m in his room.

  I. Am. In. His. Room.

  Holy. Shit.

  I don’t know exactly what this means, but I’m a woman and he’s a hot dude, and I can only think of one thing that it could mean. He wants in my panties, or whatever these little tied on the side things are. They actually remind me of my bikini, except they cover a little more and aren’t as stretchy, but they do tie on the sides. They’re kind of cute for super-duper old-fashioned undies.

  Closing the wardrobe, I turn away from the clothes and walk over to the window. There isn’t any glass and I wrinkle my nose, wondering how many bugs find their way in here on a nightly and daily basis.

  Gross.

  Then I forget everything. The hot dude, the bath, the panties, the weirdness of wherever I am. It’s all forgotten, because the landscape is just that breathtaking. The rolling hills, the purples, pinks, and oranges, the green of the sea and the blue of the sand.

  It’s fantastical.

  I thought that it was before, but now, from the distance and this height, it’s more than just fantastical. I don’t think that there is a word to describe what this is. Unworldly, fantastical, they both work and yet they don’t seem big enough.

  I’m not sure what is happening here. I’m scared, but I’m also in too much awe to dwell on my predicament. I should be, but as my typical self, I’m pretty excited for whatever this adventure is and I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to find my sisters here.

  Adventure.

  I love it. I absolutely adore the idea of adventure and being in the throes of it. There is something cosmic about it. I’m not sure why, but I feel so wild and free when I’m in a new place, doing new things.

  Instead of being completely scared shitless in this situation, I’m going to look at it as a new experience. I mean, it’s not like I can just jump up, call an Uber and get the hell outta dodge, I’m kind of stuck here, so I may as well make the best of it.

  I don’t know what is going to happen or why, but I have to have hope and faith that this is going to take me one step closer to my sisters. I’m going to embrace everything and hopefully
I will see them soon, then we can all go home.

  At that thought, at that decision, there is a knock on the door, then I hear the lock click and it slowly opens. I gasp at the sight of the man standing in front of me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles. It’s a warm smile, his dark eyes even warmer and he holds out his hand in a greeting or an offering, I’m unsure which.

  Taking a step toward him, I slip my hand in his, watching as his brows snap together in almost a frown. I don’t know who this man is, but he certainly is not the man who tracked and grabbed me in the forest.

  His eyes are far too kind, his smile way too easy, and he’s not nearly as wide in the chest. I don’t know who this dude in the fancy-assed toga is, but he is not my horseback warrior—not in the slightest, and if they think they’re pulling one over on me, they’ve got another thing coming.

  TIBERIUS

  I have never looked forward to a meal more than I have this one, not that I’ll be joining anyone. I’ve chosen to dine separately from the rest of my family. However, I have the perfect view of my fated—my intended.

  She’s prettier than I remembered from just a few hours ago. I watch as Marcellus leads her toward her pillowed seat. She looks around, a bit confused, then she sinks down to the seat, and even from my distance, I can see the way her violet eyes light up at the sight of the food laid out on the table.

  There is fresh meat, fruit, cheese, and what looks like bread, placed in large platters lining the center of the table. Cassia leans forward, touching my fated’s arm, then motions to her to place the food on her plate, before she picks that food up and plops that food into her mouth.

  Language.

  It is a shame that not all of the lands speak Savonaian. I find the other languages utterly useless, however, remembering what the beast exclaimed. She is not even of the other lands in this world, she is from a different world altogether.

  As the evening moves on, I am not surprised to hear the music begin and to watch the people, my family and trusted associates begin to dance. Then Marcellus holds out his hand, offering it to my fated.