“She’s visiting the gentleman named Silvanus, sir. That’s where I came from.”
Max’s stomach gave a horrible lurch as he realized the significance of her message. Silvanus did it. Silvanus had killed Avitus. How was that possible?
He couldn’t stop to think about it. Volusia was at Silvanus’s home, alone, likely on the verge of confronting him about his crime. He prayed she would wait for him before doing anything reckless. But what if Silvanus realized she knew? What if he—
“Juno’s cunt.” He grabbed the messenger’s arm. “How far is Silvanus’s house from here?”
“No more than a quarter mile, sir.”
“Take me there straightaway.” Volusia was in grave danger, and he had to get to her.
Max stumbled up to the front door of Silvanus’s house, breathing hard. He and the messenger had run the short distance as fast as they could. He felt the lack of a weapon at his hip keenly. He didn’t know what he was about to walk into, but he’d have to face it unarmed.
Max banged on the front door. “Silvanus! Open up!”
Silence within. Max realized too late that banging on the door like a madman was not the way to get whatever slave who manned the entrance to admit him.
Max backed up a few paces, then threw his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. He cast a desperate glance back at Volusia’s four litter bearers, who were watching him in shock. “Help me with this.”
The man who had served as the messenger eyed the sturdy door doubtfully. “It will take a battering ram to get through that door, sir.”
Max clenched and unclenched his fists, frantic energy pulsing through his veins. Volusia was in there, and she was in danger. He had to get to her.
He bolted from the front of the house to the side, into the narrow alley that separated it from the neighboring house. His gaze alit on a small door hiding in the shadows. It must lead into the kitchens and back storage rooms.
This time, Max didn’t bother knocking. He charged at the door, ramming his shoulder into it. It burst open, wood splintering around the handle.
Twin shrieks sounded from the two women in the kitchen when he barged in. One clutched a bowl of vegetable peelings, and the other was elbow-deep in disemboweling a rabbit.
“Sorry,” Max said reflexively. The women stared at him.
A scream and the sound of crashing and shattering echoed from elsewhere in the house, and Max took off running toward the noise. He followed it, veering crazily through the corridors, until he burst into the dining room.
His soldier’s brain immediately took stock of the scene before him and propelled his body into motion, before the rest of his mind could catch up. Silvanus and Volusia were on the dining couch, a wreckage of plates and food around them. Silvanus’s hands were wrapped tight around Volusia’s throat as she struggled.
Silvanus looked up as he entered, shock spreading across his face. Max crossed the room in several long strides. He bent and grabbed a heavy metal pitcher, his body moving without conscious thought. Silvanus’s mouth opened. Max brought the pitcher down hard on Silvanus’s head. The man went limp, and slumped off the couch to the floor.
Volusia lay on the couch, unmoving.
Now that the immediate threat had been vanquished, terror set in. Max dropped to his knees next to the couch. His shaking fingers brushed her cheek. He called her name, and jostled her shoulder. Her head lolled.
He bent his head close to her face, trying to see if he could hear or feel her breathing, but his own heart was pounding too hard. He thought he felt a wisp of breath against his cheek. He called her name again, louder.
A tiny motion caught his eye—an almost imperceptible movement of her chest. Thank all the gods, she was alive.
“Volusia,” he gasped. “Volusia, come back to me.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze, at first hazy and unfocused, settled on him. Her mouth opened and her lips moved, but no sound came out.
He laid a hand, still trembling, on her shoulder. “Don’t try to talk. It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
A noise behind him caught his attention. Silvanus was stirring. With brisk movements, Max unfastened his belt where it cinched his tunic and kicked Silvanus onto his stomach. He bound the man’s hands behind him, then dragged him over to slump against the wall.
Several pairs of footsteps sounded, and Max grabbed a knife from the pile of fallen dining implements. Had the servants come to defend their master?
Two of Volusia’s litter-bearers entered the dining room. They must have followed Max in through the kitchen entrance. Their mouths fell open as they beheld the scene.
Volusia struggled into a sitting position, a hand massaging her throat.
