Was that all the army held for him—grasping for power and blindly following orders?
The walls of Rome appeared on the horizon, casting long shadows on the rolling hills. The sun was setting behind the city, and Max squinted in the rays of golden light.
He desperately wanted to tell someone what had happened today, what he had learned, but he hesitated to bring it up to his family. He didn’t want them to think that he cared more about his birth family than them. As far as Max was concerned, Crispina, Aelius, and Gaia were his real family. It had just taken him a bit longer to find them.
But there was one person he knew he could speak frankly to, without fear. Once he entered the city, he dismounted and turned the two horses toward the Caelian Hill.
He knocked on the door of Volusia’s house. The small hatch in the front door slid back, revealing the face of Orion, the same slave who had greeted them two days ago.
“I would like to speak with Volusia,” Max said. “I think you know me—I’m Maximus Herminius.”
Orion hesitated. “The lady is not receiving visitors, sir.”
“Tell her it’s me, please. I think she’ll want to speak with me.”
Orion chewed his lip, but disappeared from the window to slide back the bolt and haul the front door open. “Please come in, sir. I’ll send someone out to watch your horses.”
“Thank you.” For the second time in as many days, Max entered the atrium of the house he’d been banned from ten years ago. He leaned against a column and waited while Orion went to fetch Volusia.
Footsteps sounded, and Max straightened up quicky. Excitement bloomed in his chest. It had only been two days, but he couldn’t wait to see Volusia again.
The figure that entered the atrium, however, was not Volusia, but her scowling stepfather. Max felt his shoulders curl into a defensive slouch as soon as Rufus came into view.
Rufus stopped a short distance away and raised his chin at Max, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were aware you were not welcome in this house.”
“You didn’t turn me away when I was bringing your daughter back from the dead.”
Rufus’s beady eyes flashed. “That, of course, was an anomaly.”
“So you’re going to turn away the person who saved your daughter’s life? Without me, she’d be lying in a Gallic ditch with her throat cut. You could show a bit of gratitude.”
Rufus flinched. For all his faults, the man really did love Volusia. “If it’s compensation you seek, I will ensure that you are appropriately rewarded.”
“I don’t want your money.” Max crossed his arms over his chest. “I want you to thank me for saving her life. Preferably on your knees.”
“The years have not made you any less insolent, I see,” Rufus hissed.
“The years have not taken the stick out of your ass either,” Max shot back.
Rufus’s pale face reddened. With his eyes narrowed and mouth pinched, he looked even more like a weasel than usual. It was a good thing Volusia wasn’t his blood daughter, or else she might have inherited his weaselly look. But if anyone would be a pretty weasel, it was Volusia.
“You will leave this house immediately, or I will have you removed,” Rufus declared.
“I want to speak with Volusia.”
“You have no further business with her.”
“I suggest you ask her if she wants to speak with me. If she doesn’t, I’ll leave.”
Rufus opened his mouth, no doubt to summon a burly slave to throw Max out, but before he could speak, Volusia herself entered the atrium.
“I thought I heard voices—oh, Max!” Her face brightened into a smile. “What are you doing here?”
Max cast a smug grin at Rufus, who glowered hotly enough to melt metal. “I was—”
“He was just leaving,” Rufus said. “He didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Max ignored him. “I wanted to speak with you about something.”
