Iris coughed loudly from her position at the top of the alley. Volusia drew back, removing her hands from Max’s body. She gazed up at him, her eyes luminous in the darkness. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He had no idea what she was apologizing for, but he nodded as if he understood perfectly.
“I should go.” Volusia replaced her head covering, pulling it around her face and draping the ends over her shoulders.
“I’ll escort you back.”
She looked as if she wanted to refuse, but let out a sigh of acceptance. “Thank you.”
When they reached the start of the alley, Iris gave Max a scorching glare—as if he was the one who’d kissed Volusia. Nevertheless, Iris did suffer Max to walk ahead of them on the street that led back to the governor’s residence, keeping a wary eye out for trouble.
Max glowered at anyone who dared glance at the two women behind him, and they reached the house without incident. Volusia gave Max one last nod before she disappeared within the house.
Max ambled back to his comrades, still reeling from the events of the last quarter hour. Volusia thought Petronax had murdered her husband. He passed a hand over his lips. Even more shocking than her suspicions about Petronax, Volusia had kissed him.
And he’d promised to journey to Rome with her. Despite himself, joy surged in his chest at the prospect of at least one more month with her. Of course, he wouldn’t be free to speak to her on their journey, as he’d have to maintain the appropriate decorum in front of others, but at least he could look at her. Maybe they could steal a few moments alone…
He quickened his pace, trying to rein in his thoughts. There was no use in pining after her. Even though she was no longer married, she was still not for the likes of him. Her duty was now to her son, and no doubt she would soon find another powerful statesman to become her son’s stepfather. Max’s duty was to the army, and he had no business chasing a woman he could never have.
Chapter 10
Thenextmorning,Maxmanaged to convince himself that Volusia’s appearance—and their kiss—last night hadn’t been a dream. If he had been dreaming, a murder accusation probably wouldn’t have been part of it.
To keep his promise to Volusia, he went in search of Glabrio to ask if he could be assigned to the escort that would take Volusia back to Rome.
The centurion wasn’t in his office, and one of his lackeys said he’d gone in the direction of the stables, so Max headed that way. As he walked the short distance from the camp to the stables, he caught sight of Glabrio walking up ahead next to another man. Though both had their backs to Max, the other man’s tall, proud bearing was unmistakable: Petronax.
Max hung back, seeing the commander in a new light after hearing Volusia’s suspicions. Was he capable of treason and cold-blooded murder?
As an experienced soldier, killing would be familiar to Petronax. Max, too, had killed men in battle. But there was a difference between the unavoidable violence of war and stooping to poison a governor to keep him quiet.
Petronax and Glabrio finished their conversation, and Petronax turned to head back in the direction Max had come. Max stepped out of his way and saluted as he passed. Petronax didn’t even look at Max.
Max hurried up the path to draw level with Glabrio. “Sir.” He saluted once more. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”
Glabrio kept walking toward the stables, shooting Max a scowl. “Are you in a position to be asking favors, legionary?”
“Well, probably not, sir, but I was wondering if there might be a spot for me on the escort that is taking the governor’s widow back to Rome. Do you know whom I might speak to about that?”
Glabrio stopped and turned to look at him. “As a matter of fact, Petronax has just asked me to lead that escort.”
“Oh.” It was somewhat surprising for a centurion to be put in charge of something so banal as escort duty, but perhaps Volusia’s station as a governor’s widow warranted it. The prospect of a solid month on the road with Glabrio was supremely unappealing, but he thought of Volusia. He was doing this for her, so she would feel safe until she got to Rome.
Glabrio raised an eyebrow at Max’s evident reluctance. “Are you rescinding your request?”
“No, sir. I would still like to go. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen my family in Rome.”
Glabrio surveyed him dispassionately. Max knew this assignment was not one that would be coveted; few soldiers would want to undertake a tedious journey, and escorting a woman would not be seen as a particularly distinguished endeavor.
“All right,” Glabrio finally said. “The funeral is to be the day after tomorrow, and we leave the day after that. Go speak to the provisioners about setting aside enough supplies for the trip. If we go hungry, it will be your fault.”
Max saluted. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He hurried off.
Avitus’s funeral took place with due solemnity. With Iris’s help, Volusia had managed to find some black clothing, and garbed herself appropriately for the occasion. She walked at the head of the funeral procession from their home to the place outside the city gates where a pyre waited. The people of Narbo gathered to watch. Everyone stared at her, and her skin prickled with awareness of their curious gazes. Volusia kept her eyes trained straight ahead on the bier that bore Avitus’s body, dressed in the purple-edged toga which honored his status. Iris walked at her elbow, a steady, reassuring presence.
Outside the city gates, the legion had assembled. She allowed herself a quick scan of the crowd, but didn’t see Max. Still, it comforted her to know that he was out there somewhere.
Volusia stood nearest to the pyre, Silvanus and other members of Avitus’s staff behind her, as a priest chanted. Petronax stood a short distance away at the head of the legion. His head was bowed in a somber posture. Volusia stared hard at him, but his face revealed nothing.
