“Is this close enough?”
I looked at Grandfather, who was already removing his tunic, readying to shift into half-skin.
“This is fine,” I told our smuggler, whose name I didn’t know. “Thank you for the risk you took.”
“As I said. You paid us well for it. Enemies of Caesar, I imagine?”
“Very much,” I assured him as Grandfather stepped away and began transforming. “When war begins in Rome, we will be fighting him and his regime.”
The smuggler’s attention was over my shoulder as Grandfather sprouted wings and tail, his skin shimmering with blue scales.
“War?” he asked, staring wide-eyed as I unwrapped the toga I’d haphazardly wrapped around myself when we fled.
“It’s coming,” I told him then tossed the toga into the sea.
Lela had stepped back, watching with calm and poise. Unsurprised by the fact we’d be traveling by flight from here, she waited and watched. I transformed in seconds, a rumbling growl erupting as I grew double in size.
Aggression swept through me once the beast had my skin, a natural reaction when I was in either dragon form. He also didn’t like having Lela in a strange place among strange men. I stretched out my clawed, scaled arm and she instantly came to me. No fear at the monster I was, which somehow made her more beautiful to me.
Grandfather took flight, his beating wings blowing Lela’s hair forward as she stepped into my arms. I scooped her off her feet and held her close as I bent my legs then sprang upward into the night. I followed Grandfather close to the swishing surface of the ocean, the salty spray misting us.
Lela’s arms tightened around my neck as she buried her face against my skin, the feel of her a luxury I wouldn’t forget. The sound of crashing waves echoed closer as we came upon the black cliffs then soared over the city.
There were few lights on, only of those awake from a long night or already at work before the sun rose. Not far inland, my grandfather’s home came into view—one of the largest in the city, high on a rocky cliff of the lake.
The last time I’d been here was for a gathering of our allies, the lasttime with Julian. It also resulted in the deaths of Phillius and Marcus, two senators who’d been seen reentering the city, which was reported to Caesar. That night when Julian had killed Ciprian and burned a quarter of Palatine Hill.
Grandfather landed on his terrace first, shifting as he walked through the large open archway into his home. When Caesar had barred anyone from leaving Rome without his permission, Grandfather had gotten word here to release his servants—local free men and women—from his service. He’d not known when he’d ever return here under Caesar’s rule. We’d certainly not thought to be here so soon after our last meeting.
I landed softly, not wanting to jar Lela, then set her on her feet. The house was dark and quiet and cold beyond the archway. She looked around, noticing the giant marble statue of Romulus and Remus cradled next to their she-dragon mother. She stepped closer and stared as I shifted back into a man, much to the begrudging beast inside me.
“The first Sapphirus dragon was born of Remus’s daughter.”
She still stared; the artistry of the sculpture was quite magnificent. The artisan was a free man, a Roman, with great skill. The two human children beneath the wing of their adopted mother, the titan dragon, looked so lifelike.
She didn’t say anything as she reached out and touched the spiked tail of the dragon. The gray light of early morning softened the sky in the east.
“Remus, one of these two brothers suckled and raised by their dragon mother,” I continued. “Remus was the first black-skinned dragon, as was his daughter. One day, she was flying over the sea and she saw the god Neptune riding a leviathan on the surface. She fell in love with him. They coupled on the sandy shores. Months later, she gave birth to the first blue dragon, his scales the colors of the ocean, like Neptune himself.”
“You say she loved Neptune. But did he love her back?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know. I doubt it,” I answered honestly. “There are few stories of a god loving a mortal.”
She turned to face me. “There are few stories of gods loving anyone but themselves.”
Frowning, I asked, “Do you truly believe that?”
She didn’t answer but said instead, “My grandmother told me that my gift comes from the goddess Minerva. But I do not believe she gave it out of love.”
“For what purpose then?”
“To spite man. And punish them. To show that women have power too.”
There was no mistaking the cynical lilt of her voice.
“I believe,” I told her in a gentle tone, “that some gods play tricks and some have favorites. I also believe they have the capacity for love, but perhaps their immortality prevents them from knowing it at the same level humankind and dragonkind experience love.”
She tilted her head, brow pursing. “What level is that?”
