Viper's Nest

by Rachel Ford

  Again, this seemed irrelevant to him. Still, he answered, “Not at all. They’re his legally, and he won’t discuss them. Even when she tries to get him to.”

  “You’re certain?”

  He snorted. “Of course. I’ve seen it myself, many times.”

  The Southman’s brow relaxed. “Good.” Trygve was about to launch into another tirade, but Tullius raised a hand to silence him. “I’m telling you, I’m telling you. Hold your horses, Northman.

  “Faustus’s business interests…well, from what Luke’s been finding, they’re tied pretty closely to Governor Caius.”

  Trygve nodded. “Yes. But that’s well known.” So far, none of this was news.

  “And it’s well known that Caius had a reputation for being a man who could help find cheap labor. The kind of cheap labor he filled the arena with: the kind that is coerced.”

  “You mean…slaves?”

  Tullius nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean, Tryg. Do you wonder why they granted Drusus the option of poison?”

  Trygve’s mind tried to stay on track, following his friend’s train of thought point by point. He hadn’t paid much attention to the particular details of the executions surrounding the failed plot on Cassia’s life. They were dealt with, and that was that. But he had heard that the senate spared Caius’s personal secretary any of the grislier methods of execution others endured. He’d been allowed – ostensibly, as a reward for his cooperation – a death in his own bed by hemlock. “Because he gave up his conspirators?”

  “That’s what Faustus said. But maybe it wasn’t a reward for who he gave up. Maybe it was for who he was protecting.”

  “Are you saying Faustus owns slaves?”

  “We don’t know for sure. I should say, Luke doesn’t know for sure. He’s the one digging into it. But he’s got a lead that Faustus’s eastern mines? They’re run by prison and slave labor.”

  “Frigg.”

  “Look, Tryg, the reason I came to you with this is, Luke wants to know what to do. If – I’m sorry, I’m just going to say it. If Cassia’s mixed up in this, he’ll leave it alone. It’ll kill him, because it’ll make him complicit. But he’ll leave it alone, for her sake, because she’s laid a lot on the line for him, and for yours. Because you love her.”

  “She’s not. Frigg, Tullius, how can you even ask that? Of course Cass wouldn’t be involved in anything like that.”

  The gladiator extended a hand to his shoulder. “I hope you’re right. I really do. But Tryg, he’s not going to look any further until you give him the okay. You understand?

  “So you find out what Cass wants, and decide what you want. You don’t have to tell us the details or the reasons why.”

  “I told you, she’s not involved.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t damage her politically.”

  This was something Trygve hadn’t considered. “Oh.”

  “She might decide the risk is too great, especially now, when she’s pushing such an ambitious agenda. But on the other hand, it might be exactly what she needs. It might give her leverage to divorce Faustus.”

  He blinked, his mind reeling at the possibilities, at the idea of Cassia suddenly being a free woman. “Divorce?”

  “Exactly.

  “That’s what I’m saying, Tryg. We don’t need to know your reasons why. But unless and until we hear from you, Luke isn’t going to look further. Okay?”

  Trygve wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her, but in the end, he told her everything. It all spilled out, and once he’d started, he didn’t quite know how to stop.

  She ranged from indignant that Luke and Tullius would question her, to mortified that her husband could be mixed up in anything so underhanded, to cursing her own blindness that she’d missed it for so long.

  “Minerva, no wonder he was so adamant about keeping his businesses separate from me. What a fool. What a godsdamned fool I’ve been.”

  She’d sat down and wept, and then got to her feet and paced. She’d thrown herself into his arms and cried bitter tears against his neck. Then, she’d walked up and down the length of her room, cursing Faustus to every god in the Stellan panoply.

  Trygve hadn’t doubted her innocence in all of this. He’d witnessed the way in which Faustus shut her out of his business. But he wished Luke and Tullius could see the raw anger, the fury and hurt, he witnessed. Any doubt they had, he felt certain, could not long survive.

  That, of course, was not possible. So he concentrated on what was possible. “What should I tell him?”

  “Tell him? Who?”

  “Luke.”

  “Oh.” She sat down heavily near him. “To investigate. Of course, if Faustus is really involved in the slave trade – gods, I want to believe not even he could sink that low. I really do. But I know him too well.

  “But if it is true, he needs to be brought to justice.”

  The Northman shifted in his seat. “The thing is, Cass…well, are you sure? Should we maybe hold off for a day or two, and think through the implications?”

  She frowned at him. “You’re not telling me you believe them, Tryg? That you think I had something to do with the slave trade?”

  “No, no of course not. It’s just…”

  “Just?”

  She was bristling before his eyes, and he took her hand in his. “I know you didn’t, my darling. I just mean, what if publicly exposing Faustus isn’t the best way to go about this?”

  Her frown deepened. “What? Why not?”

  “He’s emperor. What’s the worst that will happen to him?”

  She loosed a frustrated sigh. “In theory? He could go to prison.”

  “But he’s emperor,” he reminded her.

  “Yes. So unless I explicitly appealed for it, he wouldn’t.”

  “And would you?”

  She shook her head. “No. If I did that…well, he’d divorce me, for starters.”

  “And is that such a terrible thing, my Cass?” His tone sounded raw, pleading, even to his own ears. But he didn’t care. A plan, or something like a plan, was taking shape in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t escape it.

  She blinked at his words. “You know as well as I, Tryg, what it would mean for the empire. Every debt Flavius paid off, every loan he made my father; every copper Faustus contributed as emperor – the imperial treasury would be on the hook for all of it.”

  He shook his head. “Not if he agreed to divorce without recouping his original assets.”

  She laughed. “Faustus? Never, not in a thousand lifetimes.”

  “Not without – persuasion. But don’t you see? This could be the leverage you need, Cass.”

  She blinked, and her face went very pale. “You mean…blackmail him? Conceal his crimes, in exchange for my freedom, and the empire’s freedom?”

  Blackmail was an ugly word, but he supposed it was the right one. He didn’t even care. All he knew was that Cass would be free, and the empire would not suffer for it. “Make him give up the slaves, make him make restitution – but, yes. Let him escape prison and disgrace, if it means your freedom.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Cassia hadn’t slept a wink after her conversation with Trygve. The fact was, she’d had something she needed to tell him. She’d meant to tell him in the garden, under a star filled sky.

  Her cycle was two weeks late. She hadn’t mentioned it the first week. But now, she was certain: she was pregnant.

  It had been months since she and Faustus had been intimate. And she’d been with one man since: Trygve.

  She’d meant to tell him that he was going to be a father. She’d meant to tell him that she loved him.

  Tullius, of course, had interrupted her before she could say any of it. And now? Well, this intelligence put everything in a new light, didn’t it?

  Tryg was right. She could be free. Faustus would fight at first. But not even he would sacrifice his own wellbeing for vengeance. If she meant to be vindictive, she could ensure that
he was a very old man before he saw the light of day again. All the gold in Stella would mean little behind bars.

  No, Faustus would see things her way if she pressed her case. He’d release her from the obligation to restore the property he brought to the marriage. He wouldn’t fight her divorce.

  And yet, he’d walk away a free man, despite all his crimes. What kind of justice was that?

  It wasn’t even a question of his station saving him. No, he wouldn’t walk because he was emperor. He would walk because she allowed him to walk. He would walk free, never answering for his crimes, so that she could walk free.

  Goddess, what right had she to do that? What right had she to deny justice to those who had suffered and probably died in his mines? Oh, she could force Faustus to free his slaves like Tryg had said. She could force him to pay restitution to those who survived, and the families of those who hadn’t.

  But that wasn’t justice.

  And yet, she would still be preventing crime, wouldn’t she? Faustus might not go to prison for what he’d done, but he’d lose a fortune. And to her husband, gold was a very close second to personal injury.

  So in a way – an indirect way – he would answer for his crimes, wouldn’t he?

  And she would be free. Stella would be free of Faustus’s poisonous grip.

  She would be free to be with Trygve, and to raise her child with the man she loved. They would be free.

  She’d almost made up her mind to do it when another thought crowded out all the others: Felix’s letter.

  She’d never told Tryg about that. She hadn’t truly come to terms with it herself. Life had just been moving too fast to let her stop and think for too long.

  But now? She wanted to ask him to be hers, to put himself in the public eye in the most absolute fashion, and to accept all the frustration and risk that came with it. She wanted to ask him to trust her, to start a life with her, in a world that was foreign to him.

  It was a big ask. A hell of a big ask. Could she really do it without even telling him who she was? And if she did, and the deception was too much for him? If – goddess forbid – he went public with it, even accidentally? If he confided it to Tullius or Senator Lucretius, who already doubted her honesty?

  It could mean the end of her rule, but it would be worse than that. Such a revelation would provide a tremendous window of opportunity for any one of the countless factions in Stellan political and noble circles. All it would take was one patrician with a private guard and a handful of similarly armed associates to start a civil war. Then Stella would be right back where it started, before the days of the emperors: a land devastated by regional chieftains, marauding warlords and local roughs, with ever shifting borders and ever increasing body counts.

  Minerva, what am I going to do? To tell him was to risk far more than herself. But not to tell him, to start their relationship on a lie? What would that do?

  Trygve rose to find Cassia already gone. His lovemaking plans had made way for talks that lasted until the early hours of morning. But they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. At least, he’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t quite sure she ever did.

  But now she was gone, and he was alone in bed. He got up quickly, changing into the new clothes he’d stashed in her room the day before – the ridiculous ritual they repeated, to allay whatever suspicions they could.

  Gunnar was gone too, and so he supposed that she must have risen early and taken the big cat for his morning walk.

  The supposition proved true, as the pair re-entered the room just as he was getting ready to exit. Her skin was pale, and dark circles sat under her eyes. He immediately felt concern. It was a look too similar to her worst days to sit well with him. “Cass, are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t sleep much, that’s all. I was thinking.”

  “Oh. Well, you didn’t have to walk him, you know. I could have done it.”

  “He was getting antsy.”

  “You could have woken me.”

  She smiled. “You looked too peaceful, my Tryg. Anyway, I needed to move. It helps me think.”

  “Oh,” he said again. He wanted to know, of course, if she’d come to any decisions. But she didn’t owe him those answers. He’d need to get back to Luke. But not right away. Not until she felt ready to make her call, whatever it would be.

  “Hey, umm, can we talk?”

  “Aren’t we talking now?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his heartrate spiked at those words.

  “I’m serious, Tryg.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  She nodded too and gestured to a seat. The lapse into silence that followed, during which they took their seats and she, finally, spoke, seemed eternal. But at last she said, “I’ve been thinking, about what we talked about last night of course. And…well, something you said. A long time ago now.”

  “Oh?”

  She folded and unfolded her hands nervously. “Well…you said…you said you loved me. Do you remember?”

  He swallowed. Frigg. Of course he remembered that. How could he forget? She’d never mentioned it, but he knew he’d messed up. And then, last night, he’d urged her to divorce Faustus. It wasn’t difficult to see what conclusions she was drawing. Nor were they wrong. He did love her. He wanted her to leave Faustus for him. But even if not for him, even if he would never be more than a passing distraction – and goddesses, it hurt to think of that – he wanted her to be free. Faustus was a brute, and she deserved better.

  She must have taken his silence to be affirmation, because she continued, “Well, I need to know if you meant it.”

  “I…I shouldn’t have said it,” he demurred. “I had no right.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Again, she folded her hands. “Just, please, tell me: did you mean it?”

  He stared into her blue eyes, brimming with a tenderness he wanted desperately to believe was love, though he knew better. Part of him wanted to lie, to tell her it was just spoken in the heat of the moment. Part of him wanted to say whatever it took to hold onto this, whatever it was. But he’d promised her the truth before, and she asked for it now. “Of course I did. Don’t you know that, Cass?”

  She nodded slowly, and for a long moment said nothing. “When you said it, I didn’t say anything. Do you remember?”

  Again, how could he have forgotten? He’d taken cuts in the arena that hurt less, that he’d sooner forget, than that awkward silence. “Yes.”

  “I…I didn’t say anything, Tryg, because I didn’t know what to say. I was married, and I could see no way to be unmarried. It seemed…it seemed like courting disaster. I’m sorry. I suppose that was cowardly.”

  “Oh Cass.” He took her hands and squeezed them with feeling. He hated to see the pain written across her features. “I knew you were married. I knew…I knew what I was setting myself up for. You don’t have to worry. If you don’t feel the same –”

  She, though, shook her head vigorously. “No, no that’s not it. I do. I just…I couldn’t acknowledge it. Not to myself, never mind to you. Because I didn’t think I’d ever be free to admit it out loud.

  “But I love you, Tryg.”

  “You do?” He sat for a moment, stunned beyond any further words.

  “I do.”

  “Oh.”

  “And now, soon, I will be free to say it out loud.”

  “You mean, you’re going to divorce Faustus?”

  “I am.”

  “Oh.” He laughed now, springing to his feet and taking her with him. In an instant, he’d hoisted her over his head and spun her around in a wide arc. Then, he set her on solid ground again, and leaned in to kiss her.

  This time, it was his head that spun. She kissed him long and tenderly, and left him breathless when she finished. “Oh Cass. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Tryg.” Now, she pulled back and fixed him with a serious expression. “But there’s something I need you to know.”

  Something in her tone sounded like warni
ng bells. “What?”

  She didn’t answer at once. Instead, she went to her desk and, with a key that hung around her neck, produced a scroll from a locked drawer. This she handed to him, saying only, “Read this.”

  Her cryptic behavior did nothing to set his mind at ease, and he opened the scroll with no small amount of trepidation. This turned almost at once to confusion, though, because he recognized the handwriting as that of the late Senator Felix. He glanced up at her. “Felix?”

  “The letter he sent me,” she explained. “His last letter.”

  “Oh.” He eyed the paper again, and then her. “Are you sure you want me to read it? Wasn’t it meant for your eyes only?”

  She nodded. “I need you to know this, Tryg. I’ve spent my entire married life surrounded by secrets and lies. I won’t start another relationship that way. I need you to know this about me, whatever the consequences.”

  Again, her words only further agitated him, and he scanned the words as quickly as he could. Soon enough, he came to the most poignant section, and he was at once in no doubt that this is what she intended him to know: that she was not Emperor Augustus’s daughter, but Felix’s.

  He read it and re-read it. “Frigg. That’s…wow.”

  She nodded. “So you see, Tryg, I am for all intents and purposes, a fraud. I didn’t know – not until I got this letter. But…I’m still a pretender. I’m not my father’s daughter. The blood of emperors does not flow through my veins. I’ve no more right than you to sit on that throne. And that – that is my secret. Now you know it too.”

  He took her hand. “It’s a lot to digest. But Cass, that – that’s not true. You weren’t Augustus’s blood heir, but you were his heir. Your mother and Felix, they weren’t carrying on behind your father’s back. He knew, and he wanted you to be empress. It’s no different than if you were an adopted child; adopted children are legally entitled to inheritance. You were his chosen child, his wife’s daughter: his adopted child.

  “So no one – no one – but you has the right to that throne.”