“Because he is a cruel dictator who only hurts and oppresses his people.”
“Do you want to take his place on the throne?”
“No.”
Interesting. I had thought that might be his goal.
“What is it you want then? What do you want to happen once he and his followers are dead?”
“I want a Rome where no one is burdened or oppressed by a corrupt king, where people’s rights aren’t stripped away because of the whim of a madman, where every person has the opportunity to lead a free, fulfilling life.”
Frowning, I took a step closer. “Every person? Even slaves?”
“Every person,” he repeated.
“You are saying you want there to be no more slavery? In Rome? In all of the empire?” I couldn’t fathom such a thing.
“A free Roman Empire,” he replied.
“Then you are mad,” I said on a bitter laugh. “It would take a monumental war. You’d have to kill hundreds, even thousands of your own kind. Of patricians.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It will be a bloody war. There is no doubt.” He kept still, on his knees, arms at his sides as I’d commanded, his expression serene as he spoke of the deaths of thousands. “This is why I need my grandfather in a place of power in the senate. He will lead us into a new era, a Rome I can be proud of. One that is truly great. Not because of the land and people we conquer and dominate, but because of the prosperity and well-being of all Romans.”
I could do nothing but stare in absolute wonder before finally adding bitterly, “It’s a fantasy, Trajan. It will never happen.”
His gaze drifted over me, his attention drawn elsewhere. “Why did you harm yourself?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That night in the temple.” He nodded toward my legs. “You were hurting yourself.”
Heat flushed my cheeks that he’d caught me in such a vulnerable position that night, that he had seen my secret, my weakness. I’d been pretending that he hadn’t remembered. But here he was, confronting me with my private shame.
“It’s none of your business.”
“No,” he agreed, “but I want to know. To understand.”
Again, he seemed so sincere, his expression pinched with concern, rather than pity. Still, I couldn’t contain the anger from boiling hotly to the surface.
“You want to know why I cut myself?” I snapped.
He dipped his head in a single nod.
“Because I’ve had to lock away all of my pain and rage, living with that monster for years. Because sometimes I’d lose myself, and become so numb to the world, I didn’t even know if I was alive,” I shouted, my voice trembling.
Then I took a deep breath, not wanting to wake anyone with my mounting fury.
“Because dragonkind is a cruel fucking race. And I needed to bleed myself, to feel the sharp pinch of pain, to release the agony of holding it inside myself while I was muzzled like a cur.”
His eyes glowed bright with blue fire. He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat bobbing.
“We are not all cruel, Lela.”
I wanted to slap him for being so calm, so genuine. Part of me wanted to enrage his beast so that I could be right in saying and knowing they were all the same. Imagining that Trajan was indeed different—a kind, good man willing to sacrifice his life to create a new, better world for the citizens of Rome—terrified me. Because a man like that, I could care for. And the gods knew nothing good ever came from that.
“That remains to be seen,” I said coldly, “Tribune Tiberius.”
I stormed away, ignoring the glimpse of hurt in his eyes, that I’d caused. I’d wanted to hurt him for discovering my shame, that I’d had to cut myself in order to mentally and emotionally survive the hell I lived in for so long. And yet, I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. Only more loss.
