She opened the dresser doors, which contained both drawers and an open area where her dresses were hung on hooks. So many beautiful gowns in black and cream with black embroidery and stones sewn into them.
Fausta reached in and pulled out one of the cream-colored gowns with tiny embroidered black dragons sewn along the waist all the way around.
“Tonight, you will wear this. We will take my litter as if we are going to Caesar’s party. Just in case we are stopped along the way. His guards are everywhere.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’m a little taller than you but let’s see how this fits. Then I’ll get you something to eat.” She handed me the dress. “You can change behind my screen.”
“Thank you.” I took the gown and walked behind her changing screen, which depicted a beautiful black dragon in flight over a sapphire sea.
My mind wandered to Trajan as I slipped out of the tunic I’d changed into last night. I wished I still had the gown I’d worn last night, craving the scent of him. I stepped into the gown and pulled it up my body when I heard someone shouting in the hall. It sounded like the servant Octavio who’d greeted us last night.
“No, you may not!” he yelled.
Heavy footsteps accompanied the man’s protestations. I crouched down and peered through the crack of the screen’s wooden frame. Fausta whirled and faced the door right as a praetorian guard stormed into the room, quickly followed by Octavio and two more praetorians. My heart skipped faster.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Fausta, facing him with all the regal mannerisms of her station. “Howdareyou barge into my home this way.”
“Fausta Media Nocte Ovidius,” the praetorian stated, his expression grave. “Where is the slave you’re hiding?”
“What are you talking about?”
That’s when I recognized him—the one with the scarred lip from last night. No, I’d seen him even before that. Valerius had hosted a small party last year. This praetorian had come with Caesar. Myheart pounded faster. The praetorian grinned, sniffing the air, his body bulging bigger, his claws extending.
“I smell her.” His gaze turned to the changing screen. My blood chilled.
I gasped and pressed my back to the wall, cold stone against my bare shoulders.
“She’s there. Get her.”
I heard the guards stalking closer as Fausta said in a condescending way, “I demand to know what you think you are doing?”
The screen was ripped aside and thrown to the ground. I flinched, staring up at the two guards—their eyes bright orange, pupils slit like serpents’, claws out as they snatched both of my arms.
“That is myniecefrom Herculaneum.”
The guards dragged me to stand before the scarred one, the one who’d stammered and begged forgiveness of Trajan last night. Obviously, we’d been wrong. He had been suspicious after we left.
His glare was sinister, promising pain. I’d seen that look so many times before from other men. Most specifically, Valerius. Rather than say a word to me, he turned to face Fausta yet again.
“Did you hear me, praetorian?” she snapped viciously, her own eyes glittering green and sharp with the dragon rising to the surface.
Rather than answer, he pulled a scroll from beneath his armored chest plate. “Fausta Ovidius, you are hereby arrested for harboring a known criminal and treason against the state of Rome.”
“No! You will not take domina away!” shouted Octavio.
The leader shoved him so hard, he hit the stone wall, his head cracking hard before he fell to the ground, motionless.
“Octavio!” Fausta screamed.
When she took a step toward him, the leader grabbed her arm and snapped her back. “Keep still, mylady,” he growled.
Fausta turned to look at me, fear stark in her gaze. For me. “Let me come with you. I’ll explain all of this to Caesar myself. You’re mistaken.”
The guard, still holding her, looked at me, an emptiness in his eyes that made me shiver. “No. I know her. I remember seeing her before. She’s the pet of Valerius who wore the muzzle. The one who killed him. It took me some time after seeing her in Tribune Tiberius’s litter last night.” Then he looked at Fausta, sliding his gladius from its scabbard on his left side. “There will be no trial for you, madame. No lies to save you now. Caesar has given me the authority to execute your sentence.”
“What sentence?” Fausta asked, her voice breathless.
