Quintas let out an audible sigh of relief. “This is what I told them, but they are conflicted among themselves, since she is the daughter of the dead Dacian king and was heard to make threat against you and against Rome.”
Marcus pushed. “I need to know the source of these lies.”
Stepping in front of Marcus, Quintas stopped and raised his hands as if to weigh things. “I am no traitor, General, but you have been a friend and given me aid over the years. Tertullian spreads these lies in hopes of taking your rank.”
Hearing the truth left Marcus cold. So it was true. Tertullian—his sister’s husband—literally hoped to throw Marcus to the lions.
As though such a thing was easy.
“And the men, what do they think?”
Again, Quintas paused to weigh his words. “Some are loyal to you. Those, like me, who have been fighting with you for years. But the younger curs think Tertullian will quickly reward them with gold and rank when this is over.”
“I see.” Marcus dragged a hand across his jaw. The impatience of youth. He locked eyes with Quintas. “Say nothing to anyone.”
“Sir, we stand ready to assist you—you need only to say the word.”
“You have my thanks.” Marcus rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I hope such a thing will not be necessary.”
Quintas nodded, but his frown said he was not convinced. They returned in silence to the stables, where Marcus wasted no further time making his next command decision.
He was still a general, still Tertullian’s commander. He needed to find the man and settle this matter before it reached the emperor for a decision. An audience with Trajan would put everyone at risk, foremost his family, which had grown to include Ademeni.
A quick search of the compound turned up nothing, not even a rumor of his second’s whereabouts. He thundered to the gate and demanded, “Where is Tertullian?”
The guard paled. “Not here, sir.”
“When was he last seen?”
“Last evening, sir. I saw him myself.”
With a curt nod, Marcus departed. If not at the barracks, Tertullian might still be at home. He galloped through the outlying streets, intent on finding the man who had a good start at ruining all the things he held in esteem.
Dismounting in a cloud of red dust at the gate of his sister’s home, he pounded on the door, demanding entry. He was unprepared for the face that appeared to answer him. Ademeni’s sister, Lilah.
Her eyes widened, but she did not speak.
“Where is your master?”
“Not here,” she answered, the accent familiar, comforting.
“Then where?”
“He went into the city early today and has not returned.”
The man was a ghost. “And my sister?”
“Drusilla left only a bit ago.”
“To go where?” Marcus prodded.
“To your home, sir.”
* * *
Drusilla dropped onto the bench beside the pool. She looked back and forth between Lucia and Ademeni with tear-reddened eyes. “I should have realized what my husband’s ambition could do. I was blinded by my anger toward him.”
Ademeni almost laughed. How much damage did Tertullian need to do before his wife realized he was an animal? Even from this short distance, she divined that poor Drusilla had been just another pawn in Tertullian’s power scheme.
“He’s made life miserable since returning from the Dacian campaign. It’s as if he made up his mind before coming home that he must make this play. As if his life did not move fast enough for him.”
Ademeni closed her eyes and shook her head. Many of their lives had been made ill upon his return. She and her sister had not asked to be dragged to Rome. The man poisoned everything in his path.
Now Drusilla spoke directly to Ademeni. “I don’t blame you or Lilah. It’s him—he’s not the same man I married. He’s not the same man he was when he left on campaign.”
He was the same man Ademeni remembered. Sneaking into the camp at night to harass the prisoners. No doubt he’d been gone too long, been at war too long, and lost track of himself. These things happened and never ended well.
“When he made Marcus a gift of you, and Marcus did not respond as he supposed, he became irate. That’s when I wondered what he might do.”
“You did not protect my sister.”
The accusation slipped out and stood between them as if it had legs.
Drusilla rose. “I didn’t know what to think. He seemed obsessed with her and I was a jealous wife. When I began to see things clearly, I was kind.”
Lucia took hold of Drusilla’s hands. “Where is your husband now?”
Before she could open her mouth to answer, the door slammed open and Marcus marched down the hall, Lilah scurrying in his wake.
Ademeni ran to embrace her sister just as Drusilla rushed to Marcus. She wished she could do the same, to let him know how much she missed him and feared for him, how glad she was to see him again…
Marcus glanced at her over his shoulder. His jaw worked in silent rage, and the glint of determination shone in his eyes. She would not want to be Tertullian today, and held her breath as he asked the question again.
“Where is Tertullian?”
Drusilla’s answer tore Ademeni’s heart to shreds. “He has an audience with Trajan.”
The words hung in the air like the stench of the sewer. Ademeni’s hopes sank to the stones. The first to tell a story often had the upper hand.
Marcus cradled his sister’s anguished face, then kissed both her cheeks. “You must go home now, pretend you have not seen or spoken to me. Watch and listen.”
“But Marcus—” she argued.
“You must play things out, and you are more help to me there than here. Keep your ears sharp and send a messenger if you have news.”
Drusilla acquiesced and left the house with Lilah in tow as the shadows stretched toward a darkening sky. Ademeni released a held breath. This meant nothing. Perhaps Marcus had done the right thing. Drastic measures took time, after all, and Trajan did not seem to be a hasty man. If he wanted to display his power to the people, this provided the perfect opportunity for drama.
“Come.” Marcus held out his hand, and she reached for him without shame. She buried her face against his chest and listened to the thundering of his heart between her ragged breaths. Safe for now, she counted the moments they might have left together.
That soothing sound was replaced by a knock on the doors that echoed through the house. No one moved.
Then the sharp command shook the foundations. “Open in the name of the emperor!”
Chapter Seventeen
Those few words descended upon Ademeni like stones falling from the sky. Blood froze in her veins, and her hands and feet turned to ice. This kind of visitation was never a good omen. They did not come to apologize for a misunderstanding.
Marcus grabbed her and squeezed, bringing her focus back to him. She took several quick breaths as the warmth in his eyes slowed the fearful gallop of her heart. She offered a small smile, hoping to provide confidence.
A fist struck the door again, and Marcus marched forward, back straight and shoulders squared, to answer the summons.
Ademeni held her breath as the door swung wide and the black-clad detachment from the emperor’s personal guard launched into the house. They formed a square around Marcus and stood at attention while one man, wearing an ornate silver helmet, stepped forward.
Extending his arm, he handed Marcus a sealed parchment. “By order of His Excellency, the Emperor Trajan.”
Marcus took the papers and broke the red wax seal with a swipe of his thumb. Too far away to see the written words, Ademeni strained to read her lover’s blank expression. Not a twitch or blink gave away his thoughts.
He turned to Flora. “See to it that these men have food and that their horses are watered. They will be camped outside the house until morning.”
With no small
relief, Ademeni deciphered his command. They would not take him tonight, in secret. Trajan played this game in a more patient, but public manner. Marcus was to go willingly with the guard in the morning.
They would have one more night together.
While the Praetorian detail left the house to position themselves at discreet locations around the grounds, Ademeni wondered at Marcus. A more generous soul than she, he saw to their needs so that he might be above reproach.
She didn’t care what they thought of her.
Once the clamor died down and the anxious household calmed, Ademeni escaped to Marcus’s room to wait for him, whether he wanted her there or not.
He did not seem surprised to see her, offering the same warm smile to which she’d grown accustomed. As though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
He lowered the curtain to block the doorway and raised his eyebrows. “Interesting evening, don’t you think?”
Unable to restrain herself, she dashed across the room and threw her arms around his neck. He held her close, lifting her off the floor and whispering words meant to provide comfort.
They did little to ease her fears. She knew what Trajan expected of Marcus—why he’d granted his favorite general a reprieve.
She pushed away from him and blurted, “They mean to give you the opportunity to fall on your sword.”
Without blinking, Marcus nodded. “Of course they do. And if I have truly betrayed Rome, I would do that noble thing and save them the trouble. Yet, since I have not, I will go with them in the morning to face my accuser.”
Ademeni sank onto the bed, head in her hands. She knew plenty of innocent men who would rather die by their own hand than face their king. When he sat down beside her, she suppressed her tears and hoped the truth would be enough to see him through.
Marcus smoothed the hair from her face, and she closed her eyes. Rome was far crueler than she could have imagined, even in those first days as a prisoner. To make her fall in love with her enemy and then take him away.
“It’s my fault,” she whispered.
“No.”
Even as he silenced her with kisses, she flagged under a burden of guilt, misplaced though it might be. She wished she could have known Marcus in a more convenient time and place.
Gentle caresses washed away her anxiety and allowed her to forget for a while what they faced. Indeed, she responded to him in a more fervent and passionate connection because of what they faced.
As their bodies worked in unison, using the urgency of the moment to climax, Ademeni cried out her love for him, so that anyone who might listen could understand that, at least for tonight, this was their reality.
* * *
Marcus watched his princess sleep, imprinting her lovely visage on his memory. If he died tomorrow or a thousand years from now, he would carry the memory of her with him always.
He was a better man for having known her.
Fear did not assail him. Not for himself. Even if Trajan chose to believe a lie, the afterlife would welcome him as a champion and he would one day be vindicated in this life or the next.
Tertullian was not a smart enough man to carry the charade for very long.
But thoughts of Callia, Lucia and Ademeni weighed on his heart. He prayed this episode would not bleed through to his daughter, and that Trajan would spare his own cousin, Lucia. As for Ademeni…
She was the only one he could truly protect, and even then her safety would depend on the strength of her mind and body.
Beside him, she stirred and stretched. Her eyes opened wide, as if she’d not planned to fall asleep. He stroked her cheek, then rose from the bed and rummaged through his pack near the door.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice urgent. He smiled. She thought he still might harm himself.
He returned to her side, a packet of papers tight in his fist. “Do you remember trying to kill me in this room?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course.”
Drawing a deep breath, he captured her hand and locked his gaze on hers in the milky darkness. Dawn was not far away, and he needed to act quickly.
“I loved you even then. Your spirit, your pride, your intelligence. You will need all those things in the coming days.”
He pressed the papers against her palm. Her fingers shook as she opened and read them. When her brow furrowed, he thought she did not understand the message.
“You are free.”
“These may say so,” she argued, “but I am not free.”
Now his anger rose. He understood her attachment to him, but… “Is this not what you asked for a day ago?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “But you know I am not truly free regardless of what these papers say. I am bound by something greater than law.”
“It’s not that I expect to die, or that I don’t love you.” He knelt before her. “This is how much I love you. You may choose your own path. If I die, you are free of Rome. And if I return and you are not here, I will understand.”
“Do you not believe you will return?”
Sadness tinged his answer. “Only the gods know. My fate is in their hands, but your fate is now up to you.”
* * *
Ademeni sat across from Marcus at the table as he ate a hearty meal. The same food sat on her plate but tasted like dust on her tongue.
She sat amazed. His hands did not tremble. He smiled and laughed at Lucia as she hovered around him like a wounded bird. Every fiber of Ademeni’s being wanted to engage the enemy, yet circumstances muted her and made her little more than a bystander while this tragedy unfolded.
Marcus rose from the table and the household followed him to the atrium, where he strapped on his armor and ceremonial sword.
He refused to look her in the eye until he finished his preparations. Stepping forward, he clasped her hands between his. His gaze swept over her and bolstered her.
The time for words had passed. Lifting her hands, he kissed each one. Tears welled in her eyes. She was not ready. He could not go. Not now. Not yet.
And then he turned, opened the door and was ushered into the company of the Praetorian Guard.
As horses’ hooves struck the ground, Ademeni bolted outside, catching only a glimpse of him in a cloud of dust.
Lucia and Flora caught her before she fell, heartbroken, into the road. Hurrying her back inside, they tried and failed to get her to eat.
Finally, Lucia waved Flora away, and the two women sat alone in the large kitchen. Lucia’s first words pierced the fog of loss that shrouded Ademeni.
“I know Marcus has freed you.”
That gift seemed such a trivial matter now that his life lay in the balance. At least she lived. Now, she had no home to return to, no family to commiserate with.
“Drusilla has freed Lilah as well—or she will this very morning.”
This small spark of comfort and hope made Ademeni ask, “What should I do?”
Lucia shook her head. “Your duties and mine are now divergent. I must go into Rome and offer my testimony to help Marcus. Drusilla is going with me. If you hurry and pack a few things, you may come with me and collect your sister. She may give you better advice than an old woman like me.”
“Who will stay with Callia?”
With a wry smile, Lucia patted her hand. “Callia has already been sent to a safer place. She will survive no matter what occurs today. As will you.”
Fresh anguish washed over her at the thought of never seeing the laughing little girl again. Callia had been first into her heart. She did not know how she would survive another round of loss.
Lucia spurred her on. “Hurry now, we must leave soon or we will lose our chance.”
Ademeni rushed to dress, and placed what few possessions she cherished in a pack she could sling over her shoulder. She met Lucia at the door, and the matron pressed a small purse of coins into her hand along with a small dagger, made for a woman’s hand. With no further words, the pair slid like shadows into the
morning bustle with their heads covered. Darting through the side streets, they entered Drusilla’s home by the servant’s entrance, in case Tertullian had not yet left.
With one foot over the threshold, Ademeni found herself wrapped in her sister’s embrace. The two women wept and comforted each other while Lucia slipped away to find Drusilla.
“We are free.” Lilah held up her papers. “We can go home.”
As much as the thought of home pulled on Ademeni, she’d accepted that they could never return to the same world from which they’d been torn. She frowned and slipped away from her sister, hesitant to point out how much things had changed.
“What is it?” Lilah asked, her tone more timid.
“Don’t you understand what’s happening?”
“Of course, but it is nothing to me. If Tertullian wins his case, I do not want to be here when he comes home and finds out what his wife has done. He will destroy my papers and I will never be free.”
Ademeni groaned, pulled again in two directions. Lilah needed to leave Rome. Perhaps she could convince her sister to watch and wait in a safe place. If fate swung in Tertullian’s favor, they could leave at a moment’s notice.
Lilah blanched at the idea. “The rumors are true—you are in love with him!”
“Yes,” Ademeni admitted. “He is not like Tertullian. You were not there with me to know his heart. I will not make you stay, but do not ask me to leave.”
She gasped. “You’re the only family I have.”
“Then don’t make me choose.”
The statement settled between them. Lilah spoke after long moments of silent thought. “You truly love this man? How can such a thing be?”
“I’ve often wished he and I had been placed together in a different situation, but this is where we were led. He is a good man, a victim of Tertullian’s crude ambition, just as you. He has treated me well.”
“And he loves you?”
“Yes.” Ademeni breathed her answer, certain for the first time that he did. “I must wait and see whether he will live or die.”
“And then what?”
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