“And what of you?” she asked gently. “When you were taken to Rome, what happened?”
Fear shone stark and bright on her face. I wouldn’t tell her thedetails, for I’d never hurt my sister with the hard truth of my captivity. But I told her how I was kept by a cruel man, how my magic finally came to me, and how I’d failed to kill him when I first used my power. I told her of the muzzle I’d been forced to wear and how I’d met Trajan and all that transpired from there in our escape across Hispania to here.
When Ivo crossed the room with Stefanos, he smiled at me and ducked his head shyly. I returned it, then explained how Ivo had protected me the last night I tried to escape from Valerius’s home and that I’d always feared he’d killed Ivo when I found him gone the next day.
“Stefanos told me how Ivo had tried to protect a slave woman and been beaten near to death. That was how he came to Julian’s home. I can’t believe it was you. I’m so sorry, Lela.”
“I’m all right now,” I reassured her. “More than that really.” I glanced at Trajan by the fire. I shook my head in wonder. “How strange that we found two Roman men, best friends, to be our allies and help us flee Rome.”
“No,” she said sweetly. “Not strange at all.”
“How do you mean?”
“It was divine, Lela. Destiny.”
The prickle of magic skated across my skin, raising gooseflesh on my arms, then intensified. My own blood hummed warmly at the touch of my sister’s magic. I hadn’t felt hers in a long time, and when I had, my own power hadn’t manifested yet. But now, it was like our magic communed together, meeting and merging like friends. Like sisters.
“Do you feel that?” Malina asked, her empathic senses strong and sharp.
“Yes. Why is our magic doing that?”
She frowned, looking down at our clasped hands. “I’m unsure. Bunica always said that our magic would be stronger together.”
“Did she?” I asked, trying to remember. “I suppose she did. I wasn’t always listening when she spoke of our magic.”
“Because you thought it was nonsense,” Malina huffed.
Grimacing at the truth of it, I nodded. “I did. But I certainly feel it now. I believe it is growing stronger.”
Then something hit me. “Malina.” I squeezed her hands excitedly. “If we survived, perhaps Kizzy and Kostanya did too. Bunica always said we were meant to work together against our enemies. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I believe she was right. For so long, I thought her constant preachings were nothing more than an old woman’s fantasies.”
Malina tilted her head, her jewel-green eyes pierced with sadness. “I believe one of them lives. And one is gone.”
“Why do you say that?” My stomach sickened with dread.
“Bunica never said directly, but she’d mentioned only three of us would have the gifts of Minerva. And”—she paused before meeting my gaze—“I believe Kizzy’s spirit visited me in a temple in Rome.”
“How do you mean?”
“I can’t say exactly. I’ve been thinking all three of you died that night all this time. I went to a temple to pray for you all, and I felt”—she blinked away a mist of tears—“I don’t know how to explain, only that I felt Kizzy’s spirit pass through me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and the sorrow at knowing she was probably right. That our baby sister, the sweetest of us all, was likely gone to the afterlife.
Malina sniffed. “We must find Kostanya.”
“We will,” I promised her. “I don’t know how, but we will.”
We sat in silence a few moments, still holding hands, as if one of us might disappear if we let go.
“You know, Mina? I’ve been thinking of ‘The Mother Song’ so often lately. It’s come to me in dreams. I think Bunica sent it to me, giving me courage the night I killed my master. Do you remember it?”
Her green eyes sparked brightly by the firelight. “Of course I do.” She hummed the opening tune then began to sing in Dacian.
“O fiica se îndreapta spre casa ei,
Prin verzi paduri ?i singura,
Tânjind dupa mama ei,
