She’d grown soft, weak. She’d gotten too close to her target and had opened her heart to him. From now on, she’d live in fear that someone would eventually expose her, that someone would succeed where she had failed. How much longer could she live this lie?
Azurha pulled her knees up to her chest and squeezed them until her lungs burned. Her eyes stung, but no tears fell. Crying wouldn’t help anything. Action would. But choosing the right course of action was far more complicated than she would prefer.
Minutes ticked by while she weighed her options. She could stay with Titus and hope she’d be able to save him like she had today, but the increasing body count would raise suspicions. She could leave and take out his enemies, one by one—her own personal crusade—but at the end of the day, she’d only have the shadows to cling to.
The soft slap of leather sandals on the wooden floor pulled her from her thoughts, and her body tensed. Titus approached her with caution slowing his movements. Her mouth went dry. Did Galerius tell him about Rulf? She braced for his censure, for his order to toss her over the rails of the airship.
Instead, he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms with a tenderness she would never deserve. She let her head fall against his chest, savoring the calm beat of his heart, and the tension eased from her muscles. Her fears were unfounded, at least for now.
“I never asked if you were hurt,” he said. His voice cracked with fatigue, and she wondered what had worn him out on the deck outside.
“A few scratches and bruises. Nothing more.”
“That should be easy enough to fix.” His hands moved over her battered ribs, and a strange hum resonated deep within her. It drove out the chill, fear, and pain that had consumed her since the attack. Both her body and soul knew peace from his touch. She was safe and loved, something she’d never known until now, and she meant to hold onto it for as long as the gods would grant her. “That better?”
“Yes.” She burrowed deeper into his embrace, never wanting to leave.
22
Azurha remained so still and quiet in his arms, Titus could have sworn she’d fallen asleep, but the moment the rooftops of Emona came into view, she gathered his tunic into her fists. He smoothed her hair and said, “I know. I don’t want to go back to the palace, either.”
That wasn’t completely the truth. He longed for a long soak in the tepidarium followed by a massage from one of the slaves. The day’s events had left a mass of knots in his shoulders, and he knew it wasn’t over yet. Too many questions remained unanswered, too many issues left unaddressed. How many things could wait until tomorrow? He stretched the cramps out of his legs and groaned.
Azurha lifted her head, worry creasing lines into her face. “Did anyone tend to your injuries?”
“Yes, but that still doesn’t prevent me from feeling completely exhausted.” He’d focused his magic on saving those that could be saved, but he’d lost three members of the Legion and more than half of his advisors during the attack.
She jumped to her feet and helped him stand. For the first time since the attack, he took in her appearance. Her disheveled hair tumbled over her shoulders, and blood splattered her torn dress. How she managed to escape without more serious injuries still amazed him, but he wouldn’t question the gods’ mercy. So many things had fallen their way today. How much longer would his luck last?
She caught him staring at her and ran her fingers through her tangled curls. “I must look awful.”
If she had been any Deizian woman, he would have agreed with her. They never left the house without their hair perfectly in place and their clothing immaculate. But when he remembered how she fought off Rulf without any fear, his chest tightened. She bore the bloodstains as proudly as any member of the Legion. “Don’t worry about your appearance. You showed far more courage today than any woman I’ve ever known, and that makes you beautiful.”
But his reassurances didn’t seem to convince her, and she hung behind him as they made their way outside. A gaping hole in the center of the deck marred the once immaculate mahogany, surrounded by singe marks from the black powder cannons Rulf had used on them. The timbers groaned under his feet, but they bore him safely so long as he stayed close the railings.
The ship hovered over the landing pad at the palace, dropping slower than normal to avoid stressing the damaged ship any further. Twilight stretched over the city, and the lights flickering in the windows mimicked the stars that appeared overhead. Normally, he would have taken a moment to enjoy it all, to soak in the peacefulness of it, but the sight of the broken mast and the bodies wrapped in white sheets reminded him that something sinister had tainted the day. He needed to speak to Marcus, and soon.
The second the ship hit solid ground, his mother ran from the palace with Marcus two steps behind her. “Thank the gods you’re safe,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. “When we heard your ship had been attacked, I worried I would have to plan a second funeral in less than a moon.”
He returned his mother’s embrace. “As you can see, I’m quite well.”
“Just one thing.” She pulled away and cupped his cheeks in her hands so he couldn’t look anywhere else but at her face. At first, he thought it was unshed tears glittering in her eyes. Then he realized it was fierce anger, the kind mothers showed when their children are harmed. “Please tell me that bastard is dead because if he isn’t, I’ll gladly finish him off.”
Normally, such strong language from an Empress would have shocked those who overheard it, but Titus laughed. This was the mother he knew, the one that he’d fallen asleep listening to as she discussed the cares of the empire with his father in their private chambers. “Captain Galerius robbed you of that honor.”
“I suppose that’s for the best. I’d hate to ruin my stola over scum like that.”
At the mention of a ruined dress, he searched for Azurha. He found her lingering on the gangplank of the ship, her arms crossed over her chest in an unusual display of insecurity. She licked her lips and fiddled with her hair when she caught him looking at her.
He stepped back and grabbed her hand. Her icy fingers sent a shiver coursing through him, and he wondered what had changed in the last few hours. Despite the courage she’d displayed during the attack, perhaps she’d been more shaken by it than she let on. “Azurha, I’d like for you to meet my mother.”
That seemed to jerk her from her hesitations. She straightened her posture, lifting her chin to mirror his mother’s stance, and then sank down into a graceful curtsey. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she murmured.
Then, much to his pleasure, his mother nodded her head in return—the same greeting she would give any Deizian noblewoman. “So very nice to finally meet you, Azurha.”
Her lips twitched in a half-smile, a response he felt on his own lips. If his mother would accept her as more than an Alpirion, perhaps the rest of the empire would follow. “Azurha’s bravery is part of the reason I’m unharmed.”
His mother’s eyes widened for a second, but then her smile blossomed. “Then you have my gratitude.”
A wave of color rose into Azurha’s cheeks, and she turned away, shifting her gaze to the ground. “Please forgive my appearance. I should return to the harem and make myself presentable.”
She tried to slide her hand from his, but he tightened his grip. She was back to pushing him away again. “You are my consort. You do not belong there anymore.”
“Maybe, but I know that you need to clean up, too, and I should not be sharing a bath with you.” She gave him a discreet smile, one that spoke of their shared baths in the past that usually ended in both of them reaching the point of post-orgasmic exhaustion.
If there hadn’t been an entourage of onlookers, he would have pulled her into his arms and kissed her until there was no doubt left in her mind that she would be sharing a bath with him. Her fingers twisted with his, massaging his palm and tempting him further. The exhaustion fled from him his body, and all he could think about was how
much he wanted to be buried inside her.
Varro cleared his throat, and Azurha’s hand fell from his. “I’ll escort Lady Azurha to the harem and send some slaves to tend to her.” He added under his breath, “Thankfully, Lady Claudia has already vacated the premises.”
One less thing for him to worry about. He watched Azurha until she disappeared behind the palace doors, hoping he’d be able to enjoy some private time with her sooner rather than later.
“Yes, a very lovely girl. Her coloring is absolutely striking.” His mother moved beside him and followed his gaze to the door. “But it seems she is more than just a pretty face.”
“Most definitely.”
Marcus stepped forward. “What happened?”
The tone of his voice told Titus that he already knew the basics, and the drawn expression on his face said he knew more about this than they did. Marcus flicked his eyes to the former Empress and nodded, indicating that he would share all he knew once they were behind closed doors.
“It’s as you see it,” Titus said, eager to soothe his mother’s nerves. “Rulf and his men attacked, boarded the ship, and paid for their impertinence.” As far as the empire was concerned, that was all that needed to be known. “Perhaps this will serve as a warning to anyone foolish enough to try such a thing.”
“We’ll hang the pirates’ bodies around the city,” Galerius added, and Titus inwardly cringed. His ancestors had used such crude means of keeping the citizens in line. In a few days, the stench would be overwhelming. Not the way he would’ve liked to usher in his coronation.
Right now, though, all he cared about was washing away the grime that coated his skin and finding out what Marcus knew. His friend, his mother, and the captain of the Legion all followed him into his chambers. His mother sat in a chair in the main chambers while the men followed him to the baths, and once they were alone, Marcus said, “Tell me what really happened.”
“I will, but let me get cleaned up first.” Titus stripped the clothes from his body and dove into the warm water of the tepidarium. It would take much longer to soak the stress of the day from his body than he could afford at this moment. He settled for giving his skin a quick scrub and swam back to the side. “This was more than a random attack.”
“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Marcus said and handed him a towel.
“Rulf mentioned something about collecting two bounties today. You don’t suppose he was the Rabbit, do you?” He started drying off
Galerius snorted. “Not likely for two reasons. The first is that Rulf always seemed to have a tight alibi whenever the Rabbit killed a rival. Second, he was too big and stupid.”
“Agreed.” Marcus tossed him a robe. “Everything I’ve heard about the Rabbit points to speed, stealth, and intelligence—three things Rulf lacked.”
Titus’s gut twisted. “So that means the Rabbit is still out there.”
Marcus nodded. “And the bounty must be quite substantial for someone like Rulf to go after you himself. Normally, he prefers not to sully his hands in these matters.”
“Yes, he normally hires the Rabbit.” Galerius rubbed his jaw. “None of this makes any sense, including what happened before I arrived in the room.”
“What do you mean?” Titus cinched the belt of his robe around his waist and moved toward his dressing room to find a fresh tunic. “I already went over everything with you.”
“Yes, but for a woman to successfully wrestle a man twice her size…”
“My thoughts exactly,” Varro said as he entered the room with a fresh tunic. “This isn’t the first time Lady Azurha has demonstrated the skills of a warrior. It begs the question of what exactly she did before she arrived here.”
Titus replayed the fight in his mind, noting how she’d first surprised Rulf from behind and grabbed the dagger, then how she later managed to almost hurl him directly onto Galerius’s waiting sword. Her movements had been charged with grace and power, signs of maneuvers that had been practiced before. A worm of doubt began to burrow into his mind. “Perhaps one day she will tell me.”
“Are you sure you are safe with her, Emperor Sergius?” Varro asked.
He scanned the room and saw the same worried look on all three of their faces, yet he didn’t share their fear. Whatever secrets she still withheld from him, he didn’t suspect her of any malicious intent. His jaw clenched, and his skin grew warm. “She has shared my bed for almost a fortnight and risked her own life today to save mine. As I’ve said before, if she wanted to harm me, she’s had ample opportunity.”
Marcus blocked the doorway, preventing him from leaving the dressing room and the conversation. “Or perhaps she’s waiting for the perfect opportunity.”
“Why are all three of you targeting her?” Only Varro refused to look away when he stared at each of them. “Yes, I will acknowledge that she has demonstrated some skill at defending herself, but you also forget that she’s had to defend herself since she gained her freedom. She’s not like your daughters, sisters, or wives who’ve always known the comfort of a secure home and protective family.”
Marcus had the good conscience to at least give an apologetic cough, but Titus wasn’t finished. If he was going to convince the empire to embrace Azurha as his wife, he needed to start with those he trusted the most. “Second, perhaps you’ve forgotten, but there’s a price on her head, too. Rulf mentioned two bounties—mine and hers—and I think it’s pretty safe to assume that the same person who wants me dead also wants her eliminated, too.”
Marcus shook his head. “I’m just worried that you’re letting your lust consume you to the point that you’re failing to notice that she’s not all she seems to be, and I’d be a poor friend if I didn’t point that out.”
No wonder Azurha seemed so convinced that no one would accept her as Empress. Suspicion followed her wherever she went, but he refused to give up. He’d turn their minds, one by one, because he’d seen the woman lying beneath the surface, the one he’d come to love more than anything else in his life. Titus stepped forward until he stood inches from Marcus, ready to end this conversation once and for all. “You are right—she is more than she seems, and I for one am grateful for it. If she had been nothing more than a concubine, I might not be standing here now.”
Marcus bowed his head and let him pass. One battle down, but Titus suspected he’d still have plenty more to fight.
When he entered the main room, his mother handed him a glass of chilled wine. “Don’t be angry at them, Titus. They are only trying to protect you.”
“And what do you think?”
She arched one golden brow, feigning innocence. “I hardly know the facts.”
“Don’t lie. I know you were hanging on every word that was said.” He took a long drink of the wine and sat next to her. “Am I being blind?”
She took a deep breath and appeared to be choosing her words carefully, an art learned from her years on the throne. “It’s quite obvious you have feelings for her, and based on the way she watches you, I think it’s safe to assume she cares for you in return.”
“But?” There was always a but when she used that tone.
“But what?”
“But there is something else you want to say, so say it.”
“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. That she is a remarkable woman is an understatement. She would have to be remarkable to capture your heart, and I look forward to learning more about her, as I’m sure everyone else would.” She patted his cheek like he was still a young boy. “Be patient, and let things occur in their own time instead of trying to bend everyone to your Will.”
She stood, and he followed her to the doors. “Do you think I should worry about her?”
His mother gave him a small smile. “As you said, if she wanted to harm you, she would have done so already. The only thing I worry about is her breaking your heart.”
When the doors closed behind her, he turned to the three men he trusted his life with. “Do any of
you have anything to add?”
Galerius bowed, his jaw set at a stubborn angle that made Titus wonder if there was something else the captain refused to say. “No, Your Imperial Majesty. With your permission, I would like to take my leave. I need to make sure an example is made of those pirates.”
Titus nodded, and Galerius left. Varro followed, stating he needed to see to dinner.
Marcus lingered. “I’m sorry if I was out of line.”
“You were the one who told me I was no good without her.” He poured a glass of wine for his friend. “I should have expected this kind of resistance. Azurha warned me it would happen if I tried to make her my wife.”
Marcus’s jaw fell slack. “Did you really mention marriage to her?”
“Yes, and she flat out refused me.” He kicked a cushion across the room, her rejection still stinging his soul. “Told me I was sacrificing my crown by marrying her. But do you want to know the strange thing about it? I would rather have her than be emperor.”
Marcus let out a low whistle. “I knew you’d fallen for her, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” He took a drink. “So what’s next?”
He drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, letting it drain the frustration from him. “Maybe I need to follow my mother’s advice and be patient.”
“Sounds like a good plan. It will give us time to figure out who’s behind the assassination attempts.”
Titus set his glass aside and rubbed his face. So much had happened in less than a month, he wondered if his life would ever resume the sense of normalcy he once knew. “Any news on that?”
“A bit.”
Titus became so engrossed in Marcus’s leads that he almost didn’t notice Azurha slip into the room when Varro brought dinner. He caught a hint of a smile from her, but she didn’t interrupt them as she went directly into his bed chambers to wait for him. He almost got up to follow her, but Marcus snapped his fingers and drew him back into the conversation. Azurha would be there for him when they finished. Right now, it was more important to try and figure out who wanted them dead.
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