“Lela,” he whispered, even though no one was in the room and no one could hear.
I stared up at him, wondering why he would stand so intimatelynear me. I was another man’s property, and there were dire consequences for a dragon to do anything to or with another dragon’s property.
“I can’t pretend to know the pain that sent you to the temple last night, to do harm to yourself, but what I can see is that you are stronger than he believes. You are stronger than him… in the ways that matter. You arebetterthan him. In all ways.”
My heart drummed faster, his words sinking into my bones. I pushed past him and hurried down the steps, marching away at a fast clip, Grigor and Mitko falling in behind me.
I blinked away the agony welling up inside me, bringing tears to my eyes. I hadn’t cried in ages, having been numb for so long. No matter what Valerius did to me in that dungeon that was my home, I’d stopped crying years ago. And now this?
It wasn’t because his words weren’t true that they felt like a sharp blade slipping through my ribs and pricking my heart. It was that they were true… and I’d forgotten.
IVTRAJAN
From the window, I watched her go when I longed to follow her, to stop her from going back to Valerius’s house. The mere fact that Consul Valerius—the one lackey of Caesar’s that my grandfather and I hated above all others—hadherin his claws was unimaginable.
I watched her striding down the cobbled street, her spine straight, her head held high, while plebeians veered out of her way. Not out of respect, but out of fear. Gods, she was brave. So strong. My pulsehad stuttered at the faint glimpse of her life last night at Valerius’s home. And there were so many others like Lela, bearing the weight of Emperor Igniculus’s Rome. A fierce urgency clutched my heart.
We must move faster.
Finally dragging my attention away from the window, I rounded the counter and ducked through the curtains. Euphemia leaned over the worktable where Doro worked and his wife, Thea—whose real name was Rhea—stared down between them. All three jerked their heads up in surprise.
“Well, that’s certainly a guilty look,” I noted.
Euphemia made a dismissive sound and waved me over. “Doro’s work is excellent. Come and see for yourself.”
Doro and Rhea had been slaves of Legatus Ciprian. They escaped the night my friend Julian killed Ciprian and set his house on fire. Caesar’s praetorians believed the slaves died in the fire since there were several bodies found in the rubble. I knew that those bodies were Ciprian’s guards, who Julian had also killed the night he stole Malina away across the ocean. Julian had unintentionally freed more than one slave that night. And people in the Aventine didn’t ask too many questions. No one here much cared who you were or how you came here. But Rhea didn’t want to take any chances, changing her name since she worked in the front of the shop with customers of all classes.
“This is your work, Doro?” I asked, picking up the nearly completed crossbow.
Doro, a gentle giant of a man, beamed. “It is, dominus.”
I’d told him more than once I wasn’t his master, but he continued to address me so. Old habits.
“This is fine craftsmanship. I haven’t seen one made with more metal than wood. This is your design?”
He smiled proudly. “Yes.”
“He’s working on an arrow that will penetrate the chest plate of a dragon in half-skin,” added Euphemia.
I nodded. “You may need to work on a design for a ballista as well.” I admired the weapon another moment then handed it back to him. “Good work.”
“He’s smart, my husband,” added Rhea, smiling at Doro.
The brawny man, who was nearly as tall as I was, flushed red at her praise.
“You’d best keep this hidden when you’re not working on it,” I added.
“Pshht.” Euphemia waved her hand again. “What kind of fool do you think I am? I hide all of my secrets. Which reminds me. Come with me, Senator.”
I followed Euphemia down her short hallway and into a cluttered parlor that was lined with shelves of books and a small desk. She walked to her wall of books and scrolls—a small treasure for a plebeian since bound books were so expensive. Then she plucked out one that looked like all of the others and opened it.
I knew it wasn’t a book at all; the interior had been hollowed out for secret messages. There was more than one in the compartment. She fingered two of them, then lifted the third—the small missive sealed with familiar red wax and embossed dragon insignia.
“Here you are. The latest from across the sea.”
“Thank you.”
I stepped to the side, quickly broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment. Julian sent reassurances that all was still well and there had been no encounters with Romans in nearby provinces. They were well hidden from Rome. He also assured me the local Saxon and Celtic clans had been friendly enough to barter with for food and supplies and assist with tools they’d needed to mend the barn for the heavy snows.
