by A. B. Bloom
My cheeks flamed a wild burning fire when I thought of the ways of our tribe. How I could have stated on my eighteenth birthday that Tristram was my choice, and he would have been mine. I could have chosen another, too, but that would never have happened.
“You know nothing.”
“Yet.” He smirked, his eyes skimming over my exposed skin. “We have weeks ahead of us. I could plan to get to know you very well and there would be little you could do to stop me.” Again, his tone held that slight edge. He wanted me to respond in a certain way. Why didn’t he just damn say?
I scowled, desperately wishing something could just take him out. The thought of having him march at my side for weeks was enough to make me want to impale myself on his spear.
He tripped over a tree root poking through the smooth flat of the new road, glaring at it and then at me.
“I did not do that.” I wished I hadn’t spoken, but it was automatic to retort a response.
He dipped his head slightly, his own cheeks tinging a faint pink. “So you say.”
“Whatever.”
He narrowed his eyes, unfamiliar with my turn of phrase. “I’ve conquered the whole of the Isles, but none of the girls we’ve taken as slaves have been quite like you.”
My heart squeezed at the thought of the other girls and what fate they may have received.
Noticing my hesitation, he added, “We’ve looked through all the girls in a bid to find you, little witch. Some of them were more enjoyable than others.” Again with that look.
I couldn’t repress my shudder and he grinned widely, the sun catching on his remarkable white teeth.
“Come, I can assure you it wasn’t all bad for them. I can show you if you wish?”
“Touch me and you will die,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
His laugh bounced off the surrounding hills. “I like your fire. I only hope I get to see you more when we are in Rome.”
“I can only hope you will choke on your own tongue before we get there.”
The soldiers were preparing to march, and I turned to face the direction they were heading. Augustus sighed and stepped into position at my side. “Try to keep up.”
I didn’t answer. I concentrated on trying to get the earth to connect with the power I knew lay at my feet. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get through. It was as though my abilities had been blocked.
The Mage.
It was her. I was sure of it.
We stepped off, our feet in time, and as we marched, I ran through all my limited options trying to find a way this disastrous situation could work for me.
Try as I might, I couldn’t.
His lips on mine were firm and sure. His fingers slid into my hair as his dark gaze sought mine. “Mae,” he whispered my name as though it were a prayer, as though I was the very single thing he needed to find his solace. The bed was small, comfortable, the room dim with shadows.
Room thirteen. His room thirteen.
The dream of our snatched night teased me though the dark hours. How I wish I’d done more: more than a kiss, a sigh, a touch. How I wish I’d shown him how deeply I was connected to him.
Given him everything
When Augustus’ sandal connected with my ribs—another cruel wake up—I desperately clung onto my dream.
My arms ached, my fingers tingled.
The bright-blue eyes that watched as I blinked and yawned were not the dark ones I wanted to find.
“Dream well, little witch?” His lips quirked. His face was broadly handsome, although it held nothing like the beauty of my Tristram. “Did you dream of me?” Again, that searching glance.
“Fine. And definitely not.” My voice was tight, hinting at my frustrated desire. My heart, it grieved so for the man who called my name with his last breath. He chased me through my sleep, leaving me empty and hollow upon waking.
Augustus chuckled and helped me up. His hands were polite, gentle almost. I’d noticed the last few days his words and comments didn’t always match the way he touched me.
Was he softening towards me? Maybe he began to pity the starved ragged mess I had become.
I glanced down at my blackened feet. Dirt caked them. My skin no longer felt like my own. All I wanted was a bath, but such things didn’t exist in times such as this. I’d be lucky to locate a jug of cold water to wash with.
He stepped closer, turning his back to the soldiers stepping into their formations. “You have carried well, little witch. We are nearly at our destination.”
“Rome?” I asked, unable to repress my spark of interest.
“Not quite. We cannot bring a mess such as you in front of the Emperor. He wants a goddess not a starved urchin.”
His tongue bit out the word wants, and I tried hard not to read too much into it. What does the emperor want with Mae?
My sleep deprived and half-starved state made my mind play tricks on me. Sometimes I was Mae Adams, sometimes I was Mae. Rarely was I both of us together. My body, on the point of breaking, torn and shredded with the wear of the march could no longer gel us together.
My power, the gold in my veins, was all but gone. I could no longer sense where it resided within me, or if it even did. All I had was the memory of it.
I flickered my eyes over Augustus. Not for the first time I wondered if his veins held the red her father had warned her about. Or was it the Emperor who had that built within him.
Father had warned her that Tristram had the red line of greed and power. But next to Augustus, I couldn’t believe it.
Father had been wrong.
It didn’t matter now. Tristram was dead.
“How far until we reach this place?” I frowned at the endless road and the rolling countryside. I’d figured we’d stepped into Italy a few days before. Olive trees peppered the fields and the sun shone incessantly.
“Not long.” He frowned. “The Mage is ahead making sure they are ready. She is sure she’s found the right girl this time.”
I watched him closely. “But you are not?”
For a moment he hesitated, his blue eyes landing on my lips. “Maybe I hope they haven’t. But then maybe sometimes I hope you are her.” Did his voice just catch a little?
I glanced him over, trying to hide my surprise. He caught it though, his gaze steeling over, pulling him away.
“Or maybe I don’t care either way. Maybe I’m bored of your crying and moaning, and your constant dreams with the moans and the mumbling of that fool’s name.”
There was no hiding the scorch on my cheeks. He lifted a hand, running it along the edge of my cheek. He lowered his face closer to mine and I burned brighter as my pulse kicked up a notch.
“I can sense your dreams, little one.” His eyes held mine. He hadn’t called me little witch. “Your heart needs to heal, otherwise you will be tormented for all time. You don’t want to spend every night of the rest of your life longing like that, do you?” Escaping his meaning was impossible.
“Then you should mind your own,” I snapped, and he laughed loudly, pulling me to my feet and smacking me on the ass.
“Then you shouldn’t dream so loud.” He glanced briefly at the road. “Come. Let’s get this over now. I want to get back to my wives.”
He leered at me and the intimacy that had weaved between us moments ago evaporated like a snap of a branch.
“Let’s not, make them wait in misery.” I scowled the ugliest, angriest face I could manage.
He boomed another laugh and pushed me on. Obviously, I wasn’t getting breakfast today. We must be close to our destination indeed.
My feet almost slipped beneath me. The yearning hunger that had filled my belly all day was on the verge of consuming me whole. I tripped once, and then again. Strong arms caught me. The sun was dipping over the horizon, making everything a faint gold but I was struggling to see around the creeping darkness overtaking my vision. “Hold on.” It was Augustus. His hands almost held me up, but I still couldn’t stop stumbling
over imaginary threads of tree roots and leaves that I was sure scattered the road on which we marched. A sigh filtered into my ear, followed by a swoosh of air as I was lifted and pressed against a firm surface.
I’d come all this way, on the cusp of Rome and discovering what all this was about, but I was going to die at the last hurdle.
I couldn’t hang on. Darkness ate away at me, filling the empty lonely parts of my soul.
“You know, little one. If I carry you over the threshold you will owe me.” Augustus’ words made no sense and I batted them away as I would a swarm of wasps trying to land on a jelly sandwich.
Ah, jelly. How fondly I remembered that.
“I always collect. Now are you going to walk?” he asked.
But it was no good. I had no words, no sight, no hope.
A warm smell, delicious and fresh seeped its way deep into my senses. It reminded me of something. It reminded me of Jelly, strawberry Jelly.
Another voice found me in my memories “You Americans always have a way of making everything so vulgar.”
Mrs Cox… Heather… She’d be mighty disappointed with me now.
It was the last thought I had as a welcome death stole me away.
Chapter Eight
Death is too bright, I thought to myself as I struggled to take in the warm golden glow of the room. The air was warm but dry. The subtle scent of rose swam in the air. Roses and strawberries.
I blinked repeatedly, gathering my bearings. How many thousands of miles had I marched? I couldn’t feel my feet, but I figured it was because they had fallen off somewhere along the route.
Above me a white ceiling stretched as far as I could see. I sat slightly, expecting my body to ache and sting at the movement, but strangely my body was fluid as though I’d never even taken part in the death march.
I stopped when the white sheet covering me—the only thing covering me—slipped slightly and revealed my chest. Yawning, I tried to hold in my stretch as I clutched at the cotton material tighter.
“I promised the Emperor a goddess.” I knew the voice without having to seek it out in the corner of the room.
The Mage.
“I can’t take you into Rome looking like a ruffian scrap I’ve found on the streets.”
I glanced in her direction. Her black cloak was removed, her dress beneath the colour of a fast river. It seemed to move as water might. A magical sight. Clearly, I was still ill from my desperate walk.
I glanced around. The room was large and airy, and exactly how I imagined a Roman villa would look. Large ceramic jugs were lined on a low table next to me. Bright plates of copper held sumptuous fruit.
“Does it matter how I look if I am attending him unwillingly?”
Her lips quirked at my question. “Believe me, you will want to look your best. His Eminence, the Emperor, does not like to look upon things that are not pleasing to the eye.”
“Why are you taking me to him? You are the same as me. I can feel it, or I know it. So why are you on this awful path?” I stop myself from asking what it is I do to her that makes her kill her own child in two thousand years’ time.
“Because he wants more than I can give him.” Her dark gaze swept over my face. “Perhaps more than I want to give him. Or, maybe it’s the simple fact I’m not the one he wants. I never have been.”
I watched her carefully, looking for any tell, any sign of her weakness. “Or maybe you want what he wants but know he will be the way you will get it.”
She paused, leaning back in her chair, and steepling her fingers together. “Either way, your position is precarious.”
“You could take me now. Help me access my full potential, keep me to yourself.”
“And at what price?” She tilted her head as though she were honestly contemplating it. “No. This is the path we are on.”
“Why does he want me? Why has he looked of me through so many other girls?”
Her lips curved slightly. “I see Augustus has been twittering like a little bird. That man is no end of problems.” Part of me didn’t doubt her statement; his words rang in my head still as clear as day—however, his soft whisper in my ear, and his arms as they swept me up spoke deeper down. I ignored them—it was the only sensible thing to do.
“Aeuralia, Blandina.” The Mage stood, her voice calling out into the large room. Her dress really did shimmer like water as she walked. I watched almost mesmerised. How was that even possible?
Two girls in simple white shifts sprung forward.
“Clean Mae and make her suitable for her future.” Her dark silver gaze stole over me before she turned. “Ensure she looks as warm and as sumptuous as spring itself.”
Her command made no sense to me, but I didn’t have time to puzzle over it. One of the girls stepped forward, her hand lifting to my face. She smiled, warm and reassuring as she cupped my cheek.
“Maia,” she whispered but I shook my head.
“No, just Mae.”
I held in a startled breath as she leant in and kissed my cheek, feeling a gentle warm pressure of her lips.
Okay. That was uncomfortable.
“Come.” She gestured me up and I clutched onto my white sheet for all it was worth. The two girls giggled as they led me forward and I gasped in amazement as they led me to a huge pit in the floor filled with water. The scent of rose was strong, and it warmed me from the inside out, relaxing me as they encouraged me to step into the warm water. I let go of the sheet as they tugged at it, submerging myself into the warm water. It seeped against my body, luxury after weeks of laborious destitution. The girl Aurelia pushed at my head guiding me under the water. I hesitated at first until her eyes met mine.
“Heal.” It was a simple request and the pull of the water eased my apprehension. I slid under, holding my breath as I submerged within the depths. Under the surface I could see how big the pool was, deep steps wrapped around every side. It was warm though, sensuous almost. I stayed under until I could no longer hold my breath and then burst back through the surface, my heart lifting almost with the splash of the water.
Both the women giggled and whispered together, too low for me to catch. I held in a squeal as they set at me with large sponges of rough loofah and began to brush at my skin in round circles. I tried my best to cover my breasts and duck from their advancing strokes but swiftly realised it would be over quicker if I just stood still. When they were satisfied I was clean, and were nodding happily away and chattering in their singsong talk, they pulled me from the water.
I refused to shrink away when they anointed my skin from top to toe with rose-scented oil, and to be honest I’d transformed from broken and miserable when they started to something close to a pampered queen.
When they left me alone in my room I sat for a moment on the bed and contemplated my options.
Was this an opportunity to escape? My goal had been to learn my magic and understand who I was but now Tristram was dead I no longer knew what was happening. I’d been on the march to Rome for weeks; who knew how long had passed back at Fire Stone? My own Tristan, if he even still existed, could be years older. The link of time between both zones didn’t run in a linear fashion, I’d learnt that already.
“You worry too much about the bigger picture and less of the problems directly at hand.” I turned as the Mage swept in. Her dress was now the shimmer of fire, orange and red and every shade in between. I gasped in awe. She was ageless, her skin smooth and blemish free, but her eyes held a worn weariness that belied an age I wouldn’t want to guess at.
“I don’t know what to worry about anymore,” I admitted.
“How about who you are? How to remember who you truly are?”
“I’m just Mae, a trainee Druid priestess.”
She raised an arched eyebrow. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“So you are taking me to the Emperor?”
“I’m taking you to where you belong. Where your true gifts will benefit us all.”
I held in a shiver. �
�And how will they benefit everyone?”
Now I could find out why she’d killed Phil. Why she’d tracked me through thousands of years.
Her pupils covered in a white film and rolled back slightly in her head. “You are the bounty that all men want.”
This was highly improbable considering my lack of dates in my present time life. I kept quiet though. She was in some form of trance.
“Your power will split armies, turn the fortunes of war.”
I bristled at the word war. The men of the red blood; it was as my father had warned.
But then didn’t he want my gifts—whatever they may be—for his own?
Her eyes snapped back into the present.
“What are you?” I asked. I wanted her to be a witch. To teach me what I needed to know. Now I was here I no longer thought that might be the case. Maybe I wasn’t even a witch.
Maybe I was something else.
Something they all wanted.
A commodity. A bounty… what the hell did that mean? A bounty?
One thing was damn sure. There wasn’t a chance that any of them were getting anything from me I didn’t want to give.
“I’ll leave you to rest and heal.” She stood, this time her dress the colour of peacock feathers. “I believe you will find the garden particularly restorative.” She nodded to where a gauze curtain fluttered in a soft breeze.
She swept out and I watched the curtain for a few moments, almost expecting some new threat to jump through and grab me. When nothing happened, I stepped up and held the sheer panel to the side. The air that greeted me was fresh and delicate and I swept out into a beautiful walled garden. The walls were high enough that I knew there was no chance of escape.
