Petronax.
Volusia set the tablet down with shaking hands. Avitus had a habit of writing out his thoughts when he was struggling with a problem or question. Was this tablet evidence of him figuring out that Petronax was up to something unlawful?
If this was true, and if Petronax had gotten wind of Avitus’s suspicions, it was easy to see how Avitus might have ended up dead.
Silvanus’s words came back to her.“I think you should be careful about throwing around accusations about the most powerful man in the province.”She shivered. If Petronax really had done something to Avitus, Volusia had to tread carefully. This province was full of people who were loyal to Petronax, people who would believe him over her without a second thought.
She ran a finger over the wax surface of the tablet. She could just take a stylus and rub away the traces of writing. She could return to Rome, start a quiet life as a widow with her son, and forget all of this.
That choice tempted her. It would be so easy to turn a blind eye, to pick the safe, comfortable option.
But Avitus, though he wasn’t perfect, deserved better. If he really had been killed, he deserved justice. And if Petronax was misappropriating tax revenue, then the people of this province deserved better.
Volusia closed the tablet and tucked it under her arm. She needed to keep it with her, as it was the only shred of evidence she possessed. Evidence that Avitus, at least, had suspected something.
She went to her bedroom. Iris was there, starting to pack a trunk. Volusia wrapped the tablet in a shawl and placed it into the trunk. “Make sure this isn’t disturbed,” she said to Iris.
Iris glanced at the bundle and nodded. “Yes, mistress.”
Volusia longed to tell Iris everything she suspected, but held back. She trusted Iris, but these suspicions were dangerous, and for the time being, it was safer for Iris not to know. Silvanus’s warning about throwing around accusations stuck in her mind. The fewer people who knew her suspicions, the better. But there was one thing Iris could help with.
“Iris, do you remember that legionary who was on guard duty here when we first arrived?”
Iris looked up from her packing. “The one who couldn’t stop staring at you like a puppy?”
Trust Iris to make her smile barely a day after her husband’s death. “Yes, that one. I need to see him. Do you think you could ask around and find out where he might be tonight?” Max might be the only person she could trust with her suspicions, and even he was a risk given that Petronax was the legion’s commander.
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Really, mistress? Are you sure that’s wise? I know you’re no longer married, but—”
Volusia blushed. “It’s not that. I just need to speak to him, and I can’t trust a messenger.” Summoning Max here would be too suspicious—why would the governor’s widow need to speak with a lowly legionary? So she’d have to go to him, as discreetly as she could.
Iris nodded. “All right. I’ll find out what I can.”
Chapter 9
Intheevening,Maxsat with Drusus and a few of their comrades around a low fire outside an open-air tavern. The soldiers had been subdued for most of the day after the announcement of Governor Avitus’s death, but now, with the help of some wine and the company of certain ladies, the mood was lifting. Laughter and jokes echoed back and forth. Drusus had a dark-haired lady nestled firmly in his lap, and they were in the midst of negotiating a price for her company that night.
One of her colleagues paused in front of Max, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head, and she moved on to flirt with another soldier. Since being stationed in Narbo, Max had occasionally sought nighttime company, but not since Volusia arrived. For some reason, it felt wrong to consort with another woman while Volusia was in the same city.
But now, Volusia was leaving, returning to Rome, and he’d never see her again. He heaved a mournful sigh. Apollo’s balls, when did he become so pathetic, moping around after a woman he could never have?
Across the fire, a female figure caught his eye, and his gaze snapped to her.Volusia.
No, you idiot. It was just another woman who bore a passing resemblance. At this rate, he was going to spend the rest of his life jumping every time he saw anything with breasts.
The figure lifted a pale hand to the scarf she wore over her head and shoulders, pulling it away from her face. Max caught a glimpse of golden hair. Firelight flickered on hazel eyes, and the woman’s gaze locked with Max’s.
Max nearly dropped his cup of wine. Fuck, it’s actually her.Behind Volusia, Iris lurked, glancing over the group of carousing soldiers with a sour expression on her face.
Volusia held his gaze for a moment, then moved away, into the shadowy alley between two buildings. Iris followed.
Max hastily put his cup of wine on the ground next to his stool and hurried after them, weaving through the maze of stools and benches that were clustered around the fire. What in Dis was Volusia doing here?
He entered the alley, squinting in the gloom as his eyes adjusted after the bright firelight. He didn’t see the two women, and took several steps further into the alley, his feet slipping on uneven cobblestones.
A hand grasped his arm from behind. Instinct and years of training kicked in, and he didn’t think before his other hand flew to the knife at his belt. He whipped out the blade and whirled around, breaking the person’s grip on his arm. He thrust the blade forward.
A feminine shriek made him stop short. Awareness slowly returned. He wasn’t being attacked by an enemy soldier or brigand. It was just Volusia, and now he’d pinned her against a wall with a knife to her throat.
