I didn’t realize I was crying until I sniffed. Rather than become frightened at the sign of my emotions, Trajan swept my hair aside,kissing the wetness of my cheek, nuzzling my skin. He didn’t pull free of my body either. He wrapped an arm beneath my waist and kept me still, holding himself close and deep.
“You know it’s true,” he whispered. “Don’t you?”
I couldn’t speak, my entire being sapped of strength, my voice having flown away with my spirit. I simply closed my eyes and nodded.
“Yes,” he whispered, brushing his mouth along my cheek and jaw. “You’ll always remember me.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. All I knew was that he was right. Even when we parted ways, I would never forget him. There would never be another who understood the woman I’d become—forged by the chains of Rome, freed by my own power, by spilling blood, by the sacrifice of others, and by the courage of this man.
We remained that way for some time, panting in the same rhythm, breathing together as one, our bodies still joined.
When I felt him finally lift away, I said, “You’ll never forget me either.”
He paused for a brief moment, his body tensing, then pulled from inside me. He lifted me up onto my side on the settee and tucked a lock of my hair behind me ear. “Never, Lela. Not ever.”
Then he found a blanket and laid it over me.
“Stay here. I’ll cook for us. Then we must go.”
And that was all that was said, both of us knowing and pretending we wouldn’t be scarred by this. What could we say anyway? He would hide me away then return to Rome for his war. I wouldn’t stop him, even if I could, because it was what must be done.
War meant separation. And death. Loss, I understood well. I simply thought I’d lost all that I could.
“I suppose not,” I whispered to myself, swiping at the tear that rolled down my cheek.
XXVIILELA
We’d flown through the night, reaching the shores of Britannia at dawn. Trajan had skirted far around Londinium, not wanting to attract the attention of the local Romans below. Since we’d landed around midday, far to the north, we’d dressed and trudged along this solitary path.
He landed near his home, but not too close because he didn’t want to alarm local tribes if they saw a dragon flying overhead. Hewanted us to arrive unnoticed and unseen. Fortunately, a gray sheet of clouds covered the sky, so we were able to fly out of sight, landing in a meadow near the woodlands that surrounded the house he owned here. While we walked along, he told me about his home here in Britannia.
This land was filled with the Anglo-Saxons, Celts, and Picts, among other various clans who originated here. But the Roman provinces held dominion, demanding tribute to keep the peace. In other words, to keep from taking and enslaving them.
He’d built a modest home here, designed to fit into the landscape so that no Roman might suspect the land or farm was owned by a wealthy patrician. It was also tucked far to the north, where few Romans patrolled. They couldn’t abide the cold and harsh territory, besides the fact that the ruthless barbarians in the northern country had made it clear they’d pay the emperor’s tithe as long as Romans kept to the south.
Before we left Emporiae, he’d found some cloaks and long tunics in a chest of clothes, but it wasn’t near enough what we needed in this frosty climate. The tip of my nose was frozen and I shivered.
“We’re nearly there. It’s just over that ridge,” he assured me.
I nodded, teeth chattering. “How did you get this land? It’s eons from the city of Rome.”
“After our campaign in Carthage, Julian and I, among a few of his other officers, had been sent to Londinium on Caesar’s behalf. We were to assess if any military force was needed here to keep the locals in line.”
“Of course,” I muttered.
He looped his arm through mine and hauled me close. “To keep you warm,” he said innocently.
I rolled my eyes. “Go on.”
“Well, we traveled farther north, where most of the wilder tribeslived. Julian and I were hunting in the woods up here and we heard a man cry out. When we followed the sound, we found a young man being attacked by a bear. I shifted into half-skin instantly and killed the beast before it could maim the man further. His leg was already in shreds.”
“How horrible. Who was he?”
“The son of a Brigante chief of a local Celtic tribe. When we returned him home, safe and sound, the chief couldn’t believe that two Romans had risked themselves to save his son.” Trajan shrugged, blushing.
I squeezed our linked arms, warming myself against him. “Then what happened?”
“The chief asked how he could repay us. It was after our campaign in Carthage, and I knew that war was coming to Rome. And that I would need a place tucked far away to hide my grandfather and my sisters. So I asked if he’d sell me a piece of land and help me to build a house and stables like the Anglo-Saxons built.”
