She looked side to side and declared, “It is not so very terrible here.” Her attention returned to Cassius. “Indeed, sire, a fire, a book, naught but my own company, this is paradise.”
I could imagine it was.
I was then surprised when Cassius did not relent.
“Horatia, before, you had limited choices on the actions you took to end your own suffering. But now, you have the opportunity to make the right ones. With that, and the many who will benefit, the many who will not be forced to live the existence you did, will you not make the right ones?” Cassius pressed.
“I have already told you, Your Grace,” she stated, “I feel I have been making the right ones.”
All in the room and out of it remained silent until Cass broke it.
“I am sorry all that befell you,” he said quietly.
“I am sorry, for I do not believe you, as you lived in the very same home as me, and you did naught to help me.”
I got closer to Cassius after he flinched at her words.
“I am sorry for that as well,” he shared, but he offered no excuses about the fact he was near as powerless as she.
“Your apology means nothing to me,” she spat.
Cassius took that.
But I would not allow him to absorb it.
“Did you share with him what you were enduring?” I asked.
“He knew,” she returned.
Maybe he did.
But at his response to what he saw happening to Domitia, I had a sense he did not.
“It is my understanding he had as little to do with his father as he could,” I noted, not entirely pleased with myself she conceded that with her expression, though I hoped Cassius caught it. “It is also my understanding he was but a boy when you came to the Citadel.”
She looked away.
I decided that would be enough, thus I said no more.
“As you said, you can do naught about the past, but you can about the future, so please,” she stepped back in a mock curtsy, before righting herself, looking to Cassius and finishing, “use me as your example. I shiver in excitement at the opportunity to be exposed and humiliated in order to liberate the females of my realm.”
Cassius studied her a moment before he returned a quick bow and turned, his mantle flashing out behind him as he strode to the door.
Hera and Jasmine leaped out of his way as he exited the room
“Take me to my father,” I heard him order Reginald. “Swiftly.”
I looked to Horatia. “You have my apologies as well.”
“I don’t very much care.”
I drew in breath.
So be it.
I then exited the room, doing it quickly in order to catch up with Cassius.
When I did, I called, “Cass.”
“I need her testimony,” he decreed, not breaking stride on his descent of the stairs. “I need it on record. I need those who support me to understand I do not do this on a whim. This is no power play. I need it as evidence of the righteousness of our cause, for now and for history.”
“I will speak to Domitia. Cornelia. They will bear witness to this,” I replied.
He stopped in the stairwell and looked up at me.
“She is right. I did not help her.”
“My prince,” I murmured. “Think. As things were, even if you knew what she endured, how would you have done that? You were but a crown prince. You could not spirit a king’s wife away, for what would befall you if you were caught? Where would this realm be if you were not as you are now?”
He listened to my words before he turned abruptly and resumed his descent of the stairs, stating, “We will speak of it later.”
I followed him quickly, my hand on the rope rail to guide my way as I looked behind me to Hera and Jasmine.
They appeared unhappy.
Mac, Ian and Nero, following them, looked much the same.
The march to his father’s cell was long. With Reginald at the lead, we walked along the clammy halls inside the curtain wall through one tower to the one at the opposite end of the island.
The short one.
And we did not ascend when we got there.
We descended.
The king’s chamber, however, was much the same as Horatia’s. Perhaps smaller, and there were no windows, but there was a fire and furnishings that made it comfortable.
As we entered, though, and I caught site of Gallienus, I saw the differences were striking.
Instantly, I wanted Horatia to see him.
Four days in a prison, she was vigorous, and her spirit had not been broken.
She was bitter, the woman who was once her long ago was gone.
But in the now, she had not been broken.
Four days, and Gallienus was wasting away.
I noted Cassius was just as surprised as I was.
“You must release me from this hell,” Gallienus demanded.
Cass turned, looking over my shoulder, presumably to Reginald.
“He does not leave this cell even when he can,” I heard Reginald respond to Cass’s unasked question as I continued to examine Cass’s father. “He is offered exercise, he does not take it. His food is plentiful, he does not eat it. Though he drinks much wine.”
“I have no appetite. Would you have an appetite if you were forced to live this nightmare?” Gallienus asked his son.
“This is hardly a nightmare, Father,” Cassius said slowly.
“Not to see the sky? I am the Sky King, and I am not allowed to see the sky?”
“You have the rights of an issue one prisoner,” Cassius told him, peaking my attention.
An issue one prisoner?
“When you actually are an issue five,” he carried on. “This means three opportunities each day for exercise out of doors. After breakfast, after luncheon and after supper.”
“I have no energy. My life is being sucked away by these four walls,” Gallienus retorted. “And I go nowhere with a guard.”
“All your life you’ve gone everywhere with a guard,” Cass reminded him.
“Not one meant to fence me in.”
It took a moment for Cassius to reply with unhidden astonishment, “By the gods, you’re being a child.”
“My son had me arrested,” Gallienus sniped.
“You were raping your wife,” Cassis returned.
“She was denying me her body, which is my right to take.”
“You are mistaken for you said it yourself. It’s her body.”
At this juncture, Gallienus took a moment before he replied, also with unhidden astonishment, “How did I go so wrong with you?”
“I do not know, but I thank the gods you did.”
Gallienus glared at him, at me, then back to his son.
“Did you come solely for this affectionate father-son chat?” he asked sarcastically.
“No. I came to share that, if you proclaim your guilt, and your remorse, and assert that you’ve come to understand what you did was wrong as well as your belief this should be abolished throughout our realm and any who perpetrate it punished. Not to mention, you offer public support of the new laws heralded throughout the land, when you are sentenced, you will be sentenced to exile at Bishop Cross.”
Cass had told me this would be his proposition.
I, personally, felt it was too kind. I had heard of Bishop Cross, a small, isolated island off the southeast coast of Airen, very close to Firenze. But it had an old castle there that tales told was quite lovely and the weather was most temperate, sunny skies and warm climes.
It was far from any civilization, both in Airen and Firenze.
But it would be better than this cell.
“I will not do anything that preposterous,” Gallienus spat.
“Then when you are found guilty, facing tribunal in front of courtiers and laymen alike, Father, you will receive an issue five sentence,” Cass warned.
My prince had not shared about these “issues.”
Tho
ugh, I’d ask about them later.
“As if that will be worse than this,” Gallienus retorted.
“You will not be in this cell. You will have a cell elsewhere and it will be shared. You will sup in the canteen with the other issue five prisoners, who have all demonstrated an extreme propensity for violence. And you will have but one hour out of doors each day.” Cass paused before he concluded, “Though your cell will have a window.”
“This only if my army does not vanquish yours.”
“Your army will not vanquish mine.”
“You do not know how happily the lords of this land jumped at the opportunity to rise up against you and your,” Gallienus jerked his head my way, “Nadirii.”
“So it was you who conspired to break the treaty we signed with all the realms of Triton and your promise to relinquish reign.”
Gallienus looked foiled for a moment before he rallied.
“That’s hardly a surprise.”
“No, it isn’t. Though, when I share with my fellow monarchs how you so swiftly reneged on your promises, I wonder how they will feel, should the impossible happen and your army vanquish mine. You do realize, with the seas freed for use, how very small Triton has become and how very lonely, and trapped, Airen would be if we were the only one suffering under sanctions. I assure you the other realms could do without our olives and wine, our golden salt, even our leather and steel. But no Dellish wool or wheat? No Firenz silk and spices? We could do without, but we cannot do without the coin we earn in return trade.”
Gallienus had no reply to that.
Cassius waited.
Gallienus remained silent.
“So be it,” Cass said on a sigh. “You face tribunal in two weeks.”
“I demand to be held in Carleigh Manor during my confinement,” Gallienus declared.
“Father, I feel I have failed to impress upon you that you are in no position to make demands,” Cassius said.
“This,” he moved to the table in the room and slapped his hand on it, “is not to be borne.”
“This is not for you to decide.”
Hate filled Gallienus’s face as he stared at his son.
“When I am victorious—” he began.
“You will never be victorious,” Cassius said quietly. “You will never again be free. And the only thing I find troubling about that is that I have no feelings on the matter. Not desolation my father will live out the rest of his life as such, not jubilation that you will be treated to something akin, but nowhere near as monstrous, as how you treated your wives and the women who are your citizens who were also yours to protect. Including and especially my mother.”
And with that, Cassius said no more.
He left the room.
I, and the rest of our party, followed.
“Issue one?” I asked, laying nude atop an equally nude Cassius in our bed much later that night, asking questions at the same time tracing the ink on his face with my eyes.
“Minor offenses or the first of some less minor ones. Such as disturbing the peace. Brawling.”
“And issue two?” I prompted.
“Destruction of property. Unpaid debts. Petty theft. Issuing threats. Forgery. Minor assaults.” He aimed a small grin up at me. “And before you ask, issue three is kidnapping, assault, robbery, arson, embezzling. Four is battery or repeat offenders of any of issues two and three. And five is murder.”
“Ah,” I murmured.
“Violence against women will start at four. Rape will start at five,” he declared, and I felt my eyes round.
“Five? Really?”
He nodded before he explained.
“I have thought on this. And what I have thought is that many years ago, when Mars was in training here in Firenze, Trajan targeted him. The scars on Mars’s face were delivered by Trajan and his mates. They would have done worse to him if Mac had not seen them attack, and he, I and my mates intervened. And the worse they would do was their intent to rape him.”
“Oh, my goddess,” I whispered, shocked to know Mars’s scars were delivered by Trajan, and even more shocked at all the rest.
“I shudder to think of the man he might have become if that had not been stopped. He might have had the strength of will to persevere and be who he is now. Or the man we know might be as good as dead. Which is a form of murder. The killing of the life someone could have had if they had not been forced to endure such. And so, I have decided, as this is the way, any rape will be treated as such.”
“This makes sense, though, sweetheart, there are other instances of a crime committed against a person that have much the same effect.”
“I have been beaten up, Ellie. I have even been jumped by surprise and assaulted. It is the way of training a soldier in Airen, and also in Firenze. Especially if you are a prince who others wish to take down a peg. But I have not had my body invaded. The very thought threatens to suffocate something inside me. And thus, I think this is the way forward.”
It also had to do with his mother suffering that same fate.
Repeatedly.
However, I did not mention this.
“Horatia will not face tribunal,” he decreed. “I will quietly pass her sentence, though I think she has served enough, as it were. Thus, I will find somewhere safe and pleasing where she can spend the rest of her days.”
“I think this is the best way,” I murmured.
I rose and fell with the mighty rise and fall of his chest.
Then I lifted my hand and touched the markings under his eye. They were a sort of brackets, but the top of the one to the right had a short slash going in, but none at the bottom, the opposite on the bracket to the left side, and a miniscule four-sided star was in the middle.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
“Completion,” he told me.
I looked into his eyes.
“Of training,” he went on. “When I became an officer.”
“Oh,” I whispered, not surprised at this for all his men had the same under their eyes. I moved my finger to his temple. “And these?”
I touched my finger to two swooshes, both truncated at one end. And under them, the same swooshes, but they emitted from two four-sided stars.
“Conception and birth.”
My gaze jumped to his.
“The top I had inked when we found Aelia was growing in Liviana’s belly,” he shared. “The bottom I had inked after she’d safely arrived.”
I decided, for that day, not to ask more.
“Oh no, my princess,” he whispered, turning us, me to my back, him looming over me. “You did your reading, now you shall have mine.”
I wanted his.
But I did not wish to take him to places that would open old wounds in getting it.
“Cass, you don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” he stated, these two words seeming to be torn from somewhere deep in his soul. “For you must know, she is here.”
He took my hand, pressing my fingers to a larger bracket that was over his heart, the top end bent inward more, shielding to its right a small swoop that was inked over another four-sided star.
“Protection. Liviana,” he grunted, dragging my hand up and pressing the tips of my fingers to a symbol at the pulse of his neck that I did not look at, for I was gazing into his eyes.
But I did not need to look, for I had it memorized.
Two downward sweeping swooshes, one smaller and tucked into the other.
“Pulse,” he said. “This symbol depicts a heart that beats for another. Also, Liviana.”
I was finding it hard to breathe, hearing his words, having this further demonstration of his love for her, as he pushed his body farther away.
Arching, he pressed my hand to the skin of his stomach and slid it down toward his groin.
He flattened my hand under his, my fingers separated by his shaft, my palm teased by the hair above it. “But you will be here. And I will keep it shaved so I will see you there as I take you a
nd you take me. And when you are inked there forever, it will be the symbol of ownership.”
Oh my goddess.
“Cass,” I breathed.
“I will not be the first Airenzian man who is owned by his woman,” he said thickly.
“I do not own you.”
“You do.”
“Cass.”
He shifted our hands, closing mine around his rock-hard cock.
I trembled.
All right, maybe I did own him.
“I will ink you elsewhere, Elena,” he vowed, his voice now throaty as his hand over mine stroked his shaft. “I will cover all that is blank with symbols of you, our girls, the children we will make, the life we will lead.”
Optimism.
Thank the goddess, he was sharing hope. Hope for us. Our girls. Our family.
The future.
“Yes,” I agreed readily, my body shifting greedily, pressing as best as I could to him. “Let me take you inside,” I murmured, needing that, and not caring where he wanted to be inside.
I would take it, adore it, worship it.
“No,” he grunted, and his eyes held mine captive. “Own it.”
“Yes,” I whispered, stretching to him to take his mouth in a deep, wet kiss before I moved slightly away and took what was mine.
I dropped my head.
Watching.
Cass’s hand tightening over mine deliciously.
I saw his movements, heard his noises, sensed his strain.
I reached in, he spread his legs for me, and I gently squeezed his sac.
He groaned, surged into our hands, and we both stroked his cock as he jetted his seed all over his stomach.
His hand fell away from mine, and I milked him as I massaged his sac until he made a noise in the back of his throat. I then released my hold only for Cass to pull me over him, my belly sliding over the wet at his.
When our faces were close, he sifted his fingers in the side of my hair and with his other hand clamped on the cheek of my arse, and he murmured, “You own me.”
The Dawn of the End (The Rising Book 3) Page 28