“Good night.” I left her quickly, winding my way to my study, knowing full well I had a restless night of my own ahead of me.
I’d hated Valerius from the moment I met him at a party at Grandfather’s many years ago, even before Julian and I had begun to whisper in the dark about the rotting of Rome. Before we’d begun to plot and plan.
And now the fates had decided to remove him for me, relieving me of the burden to cover up his murder. It was divine, no doubt, I thought as I took an oil lamp and moved it to the table next to the chaise.
Walking past my shelf of bound books and scrolls, I went to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. Sliding the hidden compartment open in the back, I pulled out the list of our allies and our assassination list then spread them open on my desk. I dipped my pen in the dragon-head-shaped inkwell and joyfully crossed through Valerius’s name under the kill list.
“Fucking finally,” I muttered to myself.
Then I looked at our allies. I’d organized the list by noble senators, military and officers, and humans.
As of now, the list was far too short. Under the list of humans, there were about twenty of Koska’s associates in the Aventine andanother dozen for Euphemia. I wasn’t given names by Euphemia as she liked to keep her secrets close to the chest. I didn’t blame her. The problem was that our politicians, many older like Grandfather, weren’t true fighters.
When this came to a battle—and it would—we needed more warriors.
“Dragon warriors,” I mumbled.
While Agrippa’s son, Marcellus, might rally some of his men to our side, it wasn’t enough. Caesar had all of the generals and their legions. My mind kept drifting back to that Germanic leader who’d attacked us in Moesia. But how could I possibly find him and approach him when I couldn’t even leave the city?
And now I had to find a way to get Lela out of it. Caesar would want her head on his wall in the forum. His behavior was becoming more erratic, more violent. I had to get her out. I stared at the list once more, sighing at the fact it wasn’t nearly enough, then folded it and hid it back inside my drawer. Before closing my secret compartment, I pulled out the banned book I often read for inspiration.
Taking an oil lamp and the book I’d read several times now, I settled on my chaise. I opened to the essay written by the Ignis emperor Claudius centuries earlier—“The Divine Intercession of Revolution.”
Claudius had been beset by revolts across many Roman provinces. He was more philosopher than tyrant ruler. He’d attributed the unlikely battle losses of the large Roman armies against small barbarian hordes to the fact that the gods must be aiding them. My eyes fell to one passage I’d read many times before.
“If the divine see fit to intervene, then the noble must know to bow down to the gods’ wishes. For no matter how powerful a dragon believes he is, he cannot battle and beat the gods. Therefore, a wise man takes note of the divine among mortals. If you see the signs, follow them.”
“I see a sign,” I whispered, looking at the wall between my study and bedchamber.
It wasn’t mere coincidence that the very night I decided to kill Valerius, Lela had taken care of it before me. She played a role in all of this.
Then it hit me. Something I’d spoken to Grandfather about once, only to be dismissed. Valerius’s death opened the opportunity of gaining power to our side. The power of the people was as important as gaining an army of warriors.
Now was the time, I was certain. Whether Grandfather liked it or not. I refused to ignore the signs. Tomorrow, I’d make a larger play for us all.
VIIITRAJAN
Rushing along the walkway toward the senate house entrance, I listened to every word the praeco said not far behind me in the forum.
“This heinous murder was committed by the slave woman known as Lela. If you harbor her in your home, you will be executed. If you find her, you must report her at once. Caesar is also offering a handsome reward for her whereabouts. Five thousand denarii!”
A collective gasp erupted in the crowd, with mutters of excitement. A high price indeed.
I’d received the summons to the senate house early this morning. Robed senators and tribunes filed into the Curia.
“Salve, Trajan,” Appius greeted me, holding open the door. “Shocking news, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, Appius.”
“Terrible thing,” he said rather loudly as other senators entered alongside us. “To be murdered in one’s own bedchamber.”
“Valerius should’ve gotten rid of that woman,” said Flavius, a senator of the Amethystus line who walked up beside us. “She was always trouble for him.”
“Indeed,” I agreed with false enthusiasm, seeking my grandfather as I entered the auditorium.
He was already seated on the first row in the center, facing the two empty consul seats. We shared a knowing look as I ascended the stone steps.
Each magistrate sat in the section of their dragon house. The three bottom sections, closest to the floor and highest in hierarchy, were the Media Nocte, Ignis, and Sapphirus. Even so, it was no accident that the Sapphirus house was at the center, directly in front of the two consul seats. Though the other two were the highest caste in the city of Rome, inside the senate house, the Sapphirus family ranked higher than anyone else.
