“Quiet, woman!” Glabrio barked.
Ulpius spoke from behind Max. “Sir, there must be some mistake. Surely this can’t be right.”
Glabrio fixed the legionary with a scorching glare. “There is no mistake. My orders were clear. Legionary Maximus”—he fixed Max with a cold, steady gaze—“once more, I order you to stand aside.”
The meaning behind Glabrio’s words sank in. Glabrio had been ordered to make sure Volusia never arrived in Rome. He had been ordered to kill her.
And he would do it, if Max didn’t stop him.
Max put his hand on the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword.
Glabrio’s face purpled. “Do not dare to draw arms against your commanding officer, legionary. You have already earned yourself an appearance before the tribunal for insubordination. You know the penalty for mutiny. Is this woman really worth dying for?”
Max wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He turned around to look at Volusia, as if assessing the answer to Glabrio’s question. Volusia stared at him, her hair askew, her eyes wild.
Max raised his eyebrows twice in quick succession. Understanding lit her gaze. That was one of the signals they’d developed as children, meaning “escape at the first opportunity,” though it usually applied to escaping a boring dinner party.
Max turned back to Glabrio. “Yes,” he said.
In one quick motion, he drew his sword and smashed the pommel into the side of Glabrio’s head. The centurion fell backward and lay motionless on the ground.
Volusia broke free of Ulpius and ran for the trees surrounding the camp. “Run, Iris!” she shouted.
Iris elbowed Sextus hard, and he released her without much protest. Pullus and Calvus froze for a moment, then ran at Max with swords drawn. Max parried Calvus’s strike and kneed him in the stomach, forcing him to drop to the ground gasping for breath. Pullus advanced, but there was hesitation in his movements. Max paused, breathing hard. He wasn’t going to attack his comrades without cause, but he would defend himself.
Pullus cast a glance at Glabrio’s prone body. His jaw set, and he lunged at Max with a shout. Max evaded the blow and rammed the pommel of his sword into Pullus’s head. The soldier dropped like a stone.
Max rounded on Sextus and Ulpius, brandishing his sword. Both legionaries dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. On the ground, Glabrio stirred.
Ulpius jerked his head to the left. “They went that way.”
“Thanks.” Max sheathed his sword and ran after Volusia and Iris.
He caught up with the two women easily. Volusia let out a small shriek when he came up behind them.
“It’s me,” Max gasped. “I knocked Glabrio out, but he’ll wake any moment, and he’s not going to let us get away easily. We have to run.” He cast a frantic gaze around the darkened forest, searching for something that could serve as a hiding place.
Volusia grasped his hand in cold, shaking fingers. “Max, you have to go back. Your life is the army, I can’t let you—”
“I attacked my commanding officer, Volusia. Whatever life I had in the army is done.” A pang went through him at the realization, but he couldn’t stop to reflect on what he had just sacrificed. “Now, we have to go.”
He grabbed Volusia and Iris by a hand each and tugged them further into the forest. Iris’s pace flagged, so Max threw her over his shoulder unceremoniously and kept running, Volusia’s hand clutched tight in his.
Chapter 13
Astheyran,somethingsparkling up ahead caught Max’s eye. Moonlight on water. He angled toward it, and they came to a halt on the banks of a wide, fast-flowing river, still swollen from the heavy rain two days ago. Rivers in this area were often icy cold and rapid, carrying snowmelt from the nearby mountains.
Volusia bent over, bracing her hands on her knees and gulping in air. “Can we…cross it?” she gasped.
He heaved Iris off his shoulder and set her on her feet as gently as possible. “Can either of you swim?”
They both shook their heads.
“Then we can’t risk it. It will be freezing cold, and if you lose your footing once, or if the river grows too deep in the center, you’ll be swept away.” He racked his brain, trying to come up with a plan that had an acceptable chance of survival for all three of them.
Noise echoed from the direction they’d come—rustles and shouts, growing closer every moment. Glabrio must have recovered from the blow to his head and ordered everyone to follow them.
Max bit his lip. Time was running out. He stared hard at the river. A hazy, idiotic plan emerged, but it was the best he had. Glabrio wanted them dead, so why not give him what he wanted? “They’ll expect us to try to cross the river, so we’ll make it look like we did, or tried to.”
