Wryn half-rose, his gaze dark as he watched the cook’s departing back. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing.” Libya flung herself on the ground by him. She could never bear if he heard those words about her. Besides, last time she told Wryn the cook hated her, he dismissed her thoughts.
Knees drawn up, Libya fingered the hem of her tunica. When Aulia married Wryn, that woman would sit here beside him like she did now.
Every day Aulia would walk this garden with Wryn, laugh with him, talk of songs and ideas as they gazed up at the stars. Aulia’s sons would have Wryn as a father. He’d raise them from their moment of birth.
How she envied Aulia.
“Come see my hole, Wryn.” Horus gestured wildly with his dirt-stained arm.
Wryn stood and crossed to her son.
“There’s a hydra in my hole. There really is. You have to tell Alena so I can scare her.” Horus stabbed his thumb at the patrician girl.
Wryn’s laughter rang out above the trees.
Tears formed in Libya’s eyes. She wished for none of the dirtiness between a husband and wife. That she’d gladly surrender to Aulia. She just desired to talk about music and the tales of long, long ago with Wryn. To have him continue to make Horus’ face break into smiles as he did now. Not every day even. Half the days Horus would spend at Victor’s villa after he adopted her son.
Why couldn’t Aulia allow that? The patrician woman wouldn’t.
She needed Victor to free Horus and her before Aulia succeeded in sending them to a slave auction.
Chapter 22
The Ocelli warehouse where Victor had told her to meet him loomed tall. Finding the door ajar, Libya slid through. Darkness closed in around her.
Her sandals clacked against the wood as she moved farther in. A single lamp reflected off Victor’s black hair. He leaned over a pile of tablets.
“Libya.” Victor smiled and pushed the tablets aside. “Sit.”
She lowered herself to the weathered cushions on his far side.
Reaching out, he combed his fingers through her loose hair. “Beautiful as I remembered you.”
“You didn’t remember me.” She squeezed the wooden arm of the couch. When Victor looked on her, he never saw more than a beautiful prostitute. Not like Wryn. He treated her as if she had wits, an eternal soul, abilities beyond seducing men.
Victor’s laughter rang through the darkened building, as pleasant a sound as she remembered from seven years ago. “I’m adopting your son. I’d say I remember something.”
Who cared that Victor valued her so little? No other man in the empire would take Horus as his son, bequeath him with all he owned, and free her. For Horus, she’d even betray Wryn.
“Speaking of adopting your son, tell me what you know of Wryn Paterculi’s dabbling in this eastern religion, the Way.”
Christus, a God one could get executed for. Libya shook her head. “You’re mistaken.”
“I’m not mistaken. All the Paterculis follow this Way. They made no secret about it in Britannia a decade ago, but one can’t bring a charge like that against a patrician of Wryn Paterculi’s rank without undeniable proof.”
Libya’s heart pounded, but she kept her body relaxed. She perfected that acting ability at the first brothel. “I know nothing of any religion.”
Victor groaned. “Very well. Tell me of Wryn’s spy work. Which of my ships does he plan to beleaguer this week?”
She ran her dry tongue across her teeth. How little could she tell him and not compromise his offer of freedom and adoption?
Victor caught her hand at the wrist, his gaze boring into her. “I don’t have to give your son a patrician life or buy your freedom, and well you know it. You lie to me, I rescind my offer. I suggest you think on that before you consider holding back anything.”
His gaze was firmer than six and a half years ago, his voice much harder, and she’d already lied to Victor once today. Libya swallowed. Wryn captured the illegally smuggled goods so the Emperor could take his cut of the tariffs. Emperor Trajan already reveled in riches untold. “I know of four shipments on the Tiber he’ll target this week.” Voice low, she gave the locations she and Wryn had learned from the men at the tavern.
“Very good.” Victor moved his mouth up. “What else has Wryn learned about the Viri?”
Libya dug her fingers into her palms. She’d lose Victor’s offer of freedom if he discovered she held anything back. Did the life of some unknown senator or legate truly matter so much? Wryn couldn’t have saved the man anyway without knowing his identity.
The same shame that flooded her every night at the taverns washed through her once again. Libya dropped her gaze to the floor’s filth. “He knows the Viri will make an assassination attempt on the Ides of Junio.”
Victor clenched his hands. “What else does Wryn know of this scheme?”
“That’s all.” Her shoulders slumped. Horus would have his freedom, a patrician life. Someday that knowledge would bring her joy.
Not today.
“You come to me and tell me if Wryn discovers the slightest amount more.”
“Of course.” She forced her gaze up toward Victor’s. She’d uphold her end of the bargain, if only he upheld his. Not just freedom for her and Horus, but her son would be an Ocelli, a patrician, a master of the world same as Aulia’s sons. Victor’s offer seemed too good to be true.
The tension receded from Victor’s face, and he smiled. Seven years had made him more handsome, not less. One unruly strand of his hair twisted up, just like Horus’ did.
Grabbing her hand, Victor circled his other arm around her waist. His gaze flicked to the couch beneath them. “Lay with me.”
“No.” Oh, to strike out with her fists, but she didn’t even dare pull away. She’d already betrayed the kindest man she ever met. That thought made bile rise from her innards without Victor asking this.
“You liked it at my villa in Moesia.” Victor tugged at her belt.
In Moesia, close to seven years ago now. Yes, she’d been fool enough to like him, but never this. She’d never liked this with any man. Her traitorous belt gave way to Victor’s fingers. Her saffron tunica flapped free.
“I’m adopting your son. This is the least you owe me.” Victor tugged up the fabric.
Rising, she pulled away from him. “You’ll get me with child again.”
“I’ll take precautions this time. Lay with me.” He circled his hand over hers as he pushed her down on the couch.
“I don’t want —”
“If you wish me to adopt your son and free you, stop protesting.” He pressed his kisses on her lips. Gentle, unlike many men, he slid his fingers around her tunica brooch with painstaking slowness.
The taste of brothel patrons filled her mouth as the sensation of thousands of sweating hands slithered across her skin. Libya shoved herself to a sitting position, though his body still hovered over hers. “If you’re going to force me to do this, do it.”
“Shh, dancing girl.” He traced his finger over her lips, then caressed her cheek. “You’d not taste any of the pleasure of it if I hurried you now.” Victor brushed his mouth over hers, his touch feather light.
Pleasure? The smell of ten years worth of smoking lamps and rotten teeth wafted around her, and she could see each bed she’d lain on in those taverns as clearly as if no time had elapsed. “If you wish to give me pleasure, let me go.”
He laughed. With his hand, he cupped parts of her that made her wish to scratch his eyes out. “No, I want this. You’ll want it too in a moment.”
Like Hades, she would. “If you plan on taking, take as other men do. Swiftly.”
“They’re ruffians.” Victor traced his finger down her shoulder. He brushed his other hand up her leg, sending a thousand uncried screams through her.
As she couldn’t avoid this, she needed to get it over with. So, she played the game the tavern keeper had taught her at twelve. A look, a sigh, a moan before he finally finished
.
When Victor stood to dress, she lay on the couch a moment longer. She fingered the leather thong still around her neck, holding his rose petals. Sliding the pouch over her hair, she tugged it off her neck.
Then again, he was the father of her son, her only son who she loved. She slipped the leather thong back on and reached for her tunica.
Victor pushed the tablinum curtain aside. “Rejoice with me. I shall soon adopt a son to carry on your and my legacy through the Empire.”
“Good news indeed. Without an heir, even an emperor is powerless.” Soranus smiled. “I still need you to complete all the maps for next month’s smuggling operations.”
Hours of work. Victor suppressed a sigh. “Yes, sir.”
“Give them to me at the dinner party in two days’ time.”
Victor nodded.
“And take more care. Last month you left them on a shelf because some serving girl caught your eye. Women will be your downfall yet.”
A secure shelf, away from prying eyes, and he retrieved them a half-hour later. The man worried too much. Besides, the woman had possessed the beauty of a goddess, still less exquisite than Libya though. “Every great emperor has had a problem with women.”
“No, every emperor has had women.” Soranus twitched his narrow nose. “The successful ones kept their secrets and emotions to themselves. Something you, I’ve noted, have great difficulty in doing.”
So, he probably should have divorced Iulia as soon as he learned of her barrenness rather than let her tears sway him. Still, following her advice to keep her and adopt a son had advantages, an heir who’d already survived infancy for one. He’d never told Iulia of the Viri.
Victor swallowed. Edna knew more than she should about his smuggling. Still, she was different. He’d kept Edna since Britannia days. Unlike his marriage, which rested on the conditions of family connections and the birthing of heirs, his relationship with Edna would always remain. Sometimes, on late nights when he’d been drinking, he found himself telling Edna much, much more than he should.
“Where’s your report on last month’s profits and seizures?” Soranus shifted in his silver-gilt chair.
“Not quite finished. I’ll have it to you soon.”
“Soon?” Soranus raised his high-pitched voice. “You told me you’d finish it yesterday.”
True, and he’d been well on his way to completing it. Then Libya had arrived to talk about her son, and things had happened. After that, he’d forgotten the entire stack of tablets and not remembered until dusk to go back and lock them up properly. Praise Jupiter no one had stolen them.
Perhaps he did have a small problem with women. Many emperors had before him. He didn’t bear all the blame either. Libya could inspire an ascetic philosopher to break his vow of chastity. “I’ll finish those right away, sir, and have them to you at the dinner party along with the others.”
Soranus narrowed his pale eyes. “See that you do.”
“Do you have an assassin yet for the Ides of Junio?”
Soranus shook his head. “No, but I’ve recruited a significant portion of the Praetorian Guard. When I do choose an assassin, you’ll oversee him at the palace that night.”
No, he wouldn’t. If by chance, this assassination attempt did fail, he intended to be far enough away from the event that Emperor Trajan couldn’t execute him for it. “Why don’t you act as the assassin? You’re good with a knife.”
“I —” Soranus drew up his wrinkled nose. “The assassin will have to kill three sets of guards before reaching the Emperor’s chambers. I’m not going to risk death in that way.”
Splendid, now they not only needed a ludicrously skilled assassin but one who they didn’t mind ending up dead.
Evening shadows gathered around Libya as she sat in the hall of the servants’ quarters. She ran a wooden comb through her hair. Tonight was the dinner party where Wryn aspired to discover the target of the Viri’s assassination plot. She could only hope he didn’t because she’d have to report the finding to Victor.
“Mama,” Horus yelled through their room’s curtain for the third time. “I’m ready to be good now.”
“You’re staying in there until you apologize, then you’re going to bed.” Libya tugged the comb against a stubborn knot. He’d poked Phoebe in the backside with his spear.
A clatter sounded as the curtain whooshed open. Horus swung with his fist. His balled fingers struck her arm.
She clenched the bruising spot. “Horus!”
A tanned hand shot around the corner and snatched him. Wryn pulled the boy in front of him. Kneeling, he lowered his face to the boy’s level, his eyes stern. “What was that?”
Horus shifted his bare feet on the tile. “I —”
“You will not hit your mother. Understood?”
Horus squirmed under Wryn’s gaze. “She took my knucklebones game.”
“A punishment I’m sure you justly earned. You don’t hit your mother, ever.”
Horus hung his head. “I won’t again.”
“You had better not. Now, go apologize to your mother.” Wryn pushed the boy to her.
Gaze on the ground, Horus scraped one hand over the other, his face so glum she wanted to laugh. “I’m sorry, Mama Carissime. I shouldn’t have hit you. I’ll tell Phoebe I’m sorry when she comes to work tomorrow.”
It was the first apology she had from her boy in many days. Libya hugged him as she looked at Wryn. Would Victor have patience with Horus? Would Victor love him? Would Victor do all the things for Horus that Wryn had these past few months? Her throat constricted.
“Ready for the dinner tonight?” Wryn held out his hand. If only Horus spoke the truth and Wryn was Horus’ father, not Victor.
Vain thought. As soon as Aulia entered this house, she’d make Wryn sell Horus off. Libya scowled. She had to ensure Victor freed his son first. Scooping up Horus, Libya moved through the curtain and plopped him in her bed. She pulled the covers tight to his chin. “If you need anything, the cook’s the next room over, all right?”
Horus nodded. “Goodnight, Mama Carissime.” He wrapped his little arms around her neck.
“Goodnight, Horus.” She kissed his cheek, then turned to Wryn who stood in the doorway, his body pushing back the curtain.
Throwing the covers off, Horus scooted to a sitting position.
“Horus. It’s time to sleep.” Libya tugged at the covers.
Horus bounced to his knees. “I want to give Wryn a goodnight embrace too.”
“Shh.” Libya pressed Horus back to the mattress as she pulled the covers up. “Those are for mamas.”
“And fathers.” Horus popped up. “I don’t have a father, so I want Wryn too.”
She clenched the cover. He would have a father with Victor.
A sandal clapped against the tile. Wryn reached around her and touched Horus’ hand. “Goodnight.”
Horus squeezed his hand. “Goodnight, Wryn.” Yawning, Horus fell back into the bed. “Take care of Mama. Sometimes when she doesn’t have me, she’s afraid of the dark.” Scrunching his little hand around the cover, Horus rolled into it. His eyes sagged shut.
Libya moved to the doorway. The curtain fell behind Wryn as their footsteps sounded together through the evening shadows.
“Whatever man it was who got you with child then abandoned Horus deserves to be crucified.”
Libya spun toward him. Wryn glared into the darkness. Victor couldn’t be so very bad for she’d soon give Horus to him. “He was my master. He had the right.” Not that she liked it, but it was the way of things with masters and slaves. Victor had acted kinder than most. He’d prove a good father to Horus. Pray heaven, he would.
Wryn whipped toward her. “No one has the right to do that.”
“What?” She stared at him. So much anger in his voice.
“It’s against God’s law.”
“For free women of good repute. No one cares what a man does with a woman of infamia.” As Victor had proven only
two days ago. Libya dragged her feet through the grass.
“It’s a sin for a man to lay with a slave woman same as for a married woman to lay with a slave.”
In truth? Libya blinked. Had she committed sin complying with what Victor had asked of her two afternoons ago? Knowing Victor, he’d demand she lay with him again before he adopted Horus. Sin or not, she couldn’t refuse, or else she’d lose the freedom Victor promised. “Why does your God care?”
“It’s morally repugnant.”
Libya’s eyes widened. It’s not as if she were Aulia.
The Paterculi gate loomed ahead. The porter turned the key in the lock, and they walked into the darkness outside.
Thrusting forward with his foot, Wryn kicked a rock into the air. It landed with a crash five paces beyond. “I suppose Jacob will be the father Horus wants anyway.”
Libya glanced at Wryn. His eyes still blazed hot with anger. “Jacob changed his mind. He doesn’t want me.”
“Why?” Was that shock in Wryn’s eyes?
“I’m infamia.” Libya shrugged and quickened her pace.
Wryn slammed to a halt. “Jacob knew that when he asked for you.”
Her life as a prostitute, not something she wished to discuss further with the one man who looked upon her soul, not her body. She pointed to the sky. “Behold, Orion’s belt burns bright tonight.”
Chapter 23
Wryn pushed through the curtain into the crowded triclinium. Libya wouldn’t marry Jacob. His heart soared. She hadn’t looked saddened by the change in plans either. Yet, she hadn’t broken it off. Jacob had told her that he didn’t want her.
How could any man in the Empire not want Libya?
“You have decided to honor society with your presence?” Tribune Vitus jostled him in the ribs. “Look there, your favorite person. Or should I say archenemy?”
Legate Aemilli stood across the room, engaged in conversation with a senator.
Archenemy? No, merely an annoyance. Through the moving masses of silks and fine linen, Wryn spotted his archenemy. Victor Ocelli’s gaze locked with his.
Without Love: Love and Warfare series book 4 Page 23
