Beatrix’s response was hesitant. “I am terrified.”
He opened his eyes just enough to peer through his lashes. The two settled at the foot of his couch.
“That Valentine will give us away?”
“No, no.” Beatrix tied the bandage tight enough Quintus winced. “He wouldn’t do that, no matter what they did. Valens has always been stubborn—outright defiant sometimes. My, but he used to give me a time!”
“Really?” Iris shook her head, her scar puckering as she smiled softly. “I can’t imagine that.”
Beatrix chuckled and pressed a hand to her chest. “Used to make my heart just ache, the way he always wanted to help—not that he alwayswasa help, mind you. And once he had a mind to do something, heaven and earth couldn’t stop him. Nor a good paddling.”
Pain shot through his bruised face as Quintus struggled to hold back a smile. He nearly fell asleep listening to Beatrix regale Iris with tales of the young Valentine.
“I am so glad he met you. I worried Valens would go through all of life and never fall in love.”
Wait, what? Senses suddenly on the alert, Quintus listened.Love?Who? Iris and Valentine? He shouldn’t have been surprised, not with the way they’d seemed to get along so well, talking after every meeting for the past—how many months had it been?
Iris took a breath. “Do you think he’ll get out? I keep imagining he’ll come knocking on the door like that story of Peter.”
Peering once more through his lashes, he saw Beatrix smile, though it didn’t reach those warm eyes of hers. “I hope so. With all my heart I hope so. And I believe God knows the desires of our hearts and so longs to fulfill them. He is the giver of all good things, but...”
The corners of Iris’s smile sank.
“We must decide if God is worth trusting, when He does not answer our prayers the way we think He should.” Beatrix reached for Iris’s hand. “He is.” She nodded with assurance, conviction. “I promise, He is worth it.”
Iris took a breath to respond when a knock sounded at the door.Quintus jerked upright, startling the two women. Iris locked gazes with Beatrix, hope lighting in her eyes as she leaped up and flung the door open.
Titus.
His expression deflated with Iris’s shoulders. She stumbled back and allowed him to enter. Titus’s gaze flicked around the room, taking in Beatrix and Quintus.
“Quintus. How are you?” His words were a whisper. Phoebe, who’d followed Titus to the door, shooed two wide-eyed little boys out of the doorway before closing it behind her.
Iris, swallowing back a disappointed look, answered before he could. “Improving.” She turned toward Quintus. “He’s eating and his wounds are healing well.”
A relieved sigh sank Titus’s chest. “Thank the gods.”
Beatrix rose, turning her body toward Titus. “Any word on Valens?”
Something shuddered across his face for the briefest of moments before smoothing to stone. “He’s still at the Ludus Magnus.” Titus hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck. “He made it through two days of questioning and did not breathe a word of any of you.”
Beatrix’s lips pressed together. Quintus longed to say something comforting but his head had begun to throb. Iris stared at Titus, her back hard and straight. His next words shattered her calm.
“He’s sentenced to execution on the second day of the Lupercalia Games. That’s the day after tomorrow.”
Beatrix’s fingers pressed against her lips and her eyes squeezed shut.
“And?” Iris choked. “Do you have a plan to get him out?”
“Iris.” Titus swallowed, voice low, expression full of regret. “I cannot get him out. But in the chaos tomorrow, I may be able to get you in to see him. One last time.”
Iris pressed a hand over her mouth. The air whooshed out of Quintus’s lungs. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Valentine. He had God’s ear, after all. He’d prayed and healed Iris when no one else could. Where were the angels and the earthquake? Marius had readthe stories several times the last few days as the household gathered in Quintus’s room to read Scripture in the evenings.
“You should go, Beatrix.” Iris wrapped her arms around herself. “You raised him; it’s only right.”
Titus looked at Beatrix, uncomfortable. “It’s the Ludus,” he said in explanation. “No one will think twice about a young woman being escorted inside—they’re always hanging around the gates watching for a glimpse of their favorite gladiators. But a respectable woman such as yourself would be—”
“I’m too old to pretend to a tryst with a fighter.” Tears were thick in Beatrix’s voice. “Can I at least send a message with Iris?”
