“Tiberius,” Nyatrix breathes. I force myself to open my eyes. “Go, if you need to. I would never hold it against you.”
The soldier pulls off his helm, the deep hue of his skin gone pale. “No,” he says, shaking his head, his gaze darting to me. “My loyalty is to our people. And to you, Nyatrix.”
She sighs and her body sags, as if all the violence has been spent for now. I almost relax, too, but then a sharp knock sounds at the door. Tiberius whirls, raising his blade, at the same time Nyatrix takes a step forward.
“Ophelia?” comes a familiar voice. Agrippina’s, I realize. “Nyatrix?”
“Let her in, please,” the Lupa Nox murmurs, moving toward the door. “We can trust her. I swear it.”
Tiberius looks over his shoulder, unsure, but then nods and unlatches the lock. Agrippina slips inside, her eyes wide. The woman glances around the room, her gaze finding me and then the fallen Centurion. She gasps, pressing her hand to her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Nyatrix says, coming to stand beside Agrippina.
“I wish you hadn’t done that.” Agrippina sighs, massaging her temple. “How long do we have until the Centuria is upon us?”
Nyatrix shrugs at the same moment Tiberius lets out a huff. “Depends,” he says. “But probably not long.”
I look between the three of them, unsure of Tiberius, the new addition to our ragged, unlikely group. My wariness of men is ground-in, ancient, something I fear I’ll never shake. But then Nyatrix’s gaze drifts to me. When our eyes meet, I forget everything. It’s just her.
“Tiberius is one of my oldest friends,” she tells me, like my mind is open to her. And then, hesitantly, she asks, “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I whisper, my voice coming out so very small.
“You two are coming with me,” Agrippina says, a note of finality in her voice as she finally looks up from the Centurion’s corpse. “There are many places to hide in the Conclaves.”
“I’ll escort you,” Tiberius says firmly, resettling his helm upon his head. “If we meet any Centuria guards, I’ll deal with them.”
Nyatrix frowns, glancing at the soldier and the healer. “Have you both considered the possible fallout?”
Agrippina scoffs, throwing her hands up. “Well,someonekilled the Centurion Primus. You’ve had a contentious relationship with Lucretia for anni, and everyone knows you were here together. It’s not long until the Centuria gets antsy about being picked off and just points fingers wherever they can. Might as well keep you hidden and use the chaos to our advantage. A good storm always brings interesting things to the shoreline.”
“You’re sure?” Nyatrix asks, her chest rising in a long inhale.
“Couldn’t you both be implicated, then?” I ask, finally peeling myself off the wall. I just met Agrippina a few days ago, but there’s already a tender spot in my heart with her name written on it. And Tiberius, well—if Nyatrix cares for the knight, I don’t want anything to happen to him.
“Certainly,” Agrippina replies. “But I’m the one who’s been poking around birth records and asking questions about the reports of missing children. I’m likelyalreadyimplicated.”
“I’m High Commander Maxima Cato’s son,” Tiberius says with a wink, leaning back against the doorframe. “Not untouchable, no. But close. And I’ll gladly stand between Nyatrix and the Centuria if it comes to it.”
Nyatrix sighs, her shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry. I... I couldn’t stop?—”
Without looking at the knight, Agrippina reaches out her hand and places it on Nyatrix’s muscular bicep. “I know, love.”
I watch the exchange, my mind tumbling toward something that might be understanding. “Like you told me this morning?” I ask in a whisper. “You couldn’t stop again, Nyatrix?”
She looks at me, so weary, as if there’s a thousand stones dragging her down into the dirt. “Yes,” she replies hoarsely. “There’s this . . . chamber inside me. A monster lives there. Sometimes it gets out.”
Her words—a chamber inside of her, so much like my inner room—make my heart pound. “You said you didn’t believe in the Votum.”
Nyatrix’s smile is nothing but sadness worn into a bitterly sharp shard. Agrippina’s fingers on the knight’s bicep tighten into a squeeze.
“I don’t,” Nyatrix whispers, her jaw clenching. “It would be nicer to believe. But I think I’m . . . I think I’m just broken.”
A wave of emotion rises and crashes against my rib cage. I am drowning, I think, even though I stand on dry land. Instinctively, I reach out for Nyatrix, foolish enough to think my touch could tame whatever lurks within her.
But then the sound of voices shatters my conviction at the same time Tiberius warns, “Someone is coming.”
Agrippina bursts into action, striding for the door a few paces behind me as she produces a large ring of keys from her pocket. “Follow me,” she says, her tone short as she dives through the door into the hallway waiting beyond.
