* * *
“Here you go.” Ademeni settled into a shady spot in the corner of the courtyard and handed Callia a wax-covered wooden writing tablet. “Can you show me what letters you know?”
Callia smiled then chattered away, taking the stylus to draw in the soft wax. Ademeni absently stroked the child’s chestnut hair.
From the first moment Callia laid eyes on Ademeni, the child had become her silent shadow. A little girl with the sad, emerald eyes of her father, she’d drifted into Ademeni’s weary heart after several days of this game.
At first, Ademeni had shunned the attachment and ignored the girl. But she found hating a child much more difficult than hating a soldier. Besides, she had not been so different than Callia, the daughter of an absent, warring father.
Callia tugged on her sleeve. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, now what comes next?” Ademeni guided Callia through her letters. She’d wanted to learn too, and this game taught them both at the same time. When the two of them started into one of these sessions, Flora left them alone. An added reward.
The door creaked open and a hush fell over the house, everyone—save Ademeni—anticipating the general’s return. Even Callia’s voice lowered to a whisper, though she could not possibly understand why.
Ademeni glanced at Flora, whose eyes glinted with dislike, then to Lucia, who appeared to have been studying their lesson. At the thud of the closing door, the matron smiled and rose to greet her son-in-law.
As her heart thundered in her chest, Ademeni tightened an arm around Callia as much to protect herself as the child. Flora had forced her to Marcus’s bedchamber last night, but no one knew what had transpired between them.
She would not return tonight. Regardless of her duties, she’d rather die than submit to those kinds of games. Regardless, he did not even seem to want her.
In the bright sunlight, she had nowhere to hide. Punishing her for the attempt on his life fell within his rights, as did demanding she keep her post, if that was by his bed or elsewhere.
She would have taken a whip to any servant who’d dared to offer such insolence. Without a second thought. She steeled herself for whatever he decided, prepared for the fight.
“Sunshine.”
Marcus rounded the corner, the tone of his words deep and easy. She and Callia both turned toward the sound of his voice.
The child looked from him to Ademeni, then back again, but didn’t move or speak. A knot formed in Ademeni’s throat. Marcus had shaved his beard and seemed like a younger, gentler man, ready with a smile.
But the girl did not recognize her father.
When had he last been home?
“Callia…come see me,” he coaxed. Glancing at Ademeni, he raised his eyebrows in expectation of her assistance. He’d obviously anticipated a better response. “Callia?”
When the child looked to Ademeni, she did nothing to help his cause. Callia inched a few steps closer to the archway, where she hesitated again.
The little girl squinted, her bottom lip pulling down, and Marcus ran a hand over his face. Disappointment framed his response. “It’s all right.”
Ademeni sat taller, prouder. She too once had a father who would disappear for long stretches of time, only to return with blood on his sword. She set her jaw and willed Callia to resist him.
Marcus looked at her, holding her gaze with as much intensity as his daughter used in studying him. Warmth flooded her face, and she looked away, remembering the pleasurable weight of him as he pinned her to his bed.
Agonizing moments passed while Callia inspected her father from where she stood. Then, without warning, a timid smile softened her face.
“Papa?” she asked, shuffling toward him.
“Yes, Sunshine, I’m home.” A grin cracked his tanned face. He knelt and held out a hand to reel her in.
Ademeni frowned, childhood memories bleeding into the moment of reconciliation between a father and daughter she did not know. Marcus looked at her over Callia’s head, a warning in his eyes.
Stay away from my daughter.
Nervousness netted her. If Rome was anything like Dacia, men of military renown could accumulate considerable political power. She needed to know how much power Marcus Cordovis had and how he wielded it.
Would he force her to lie in his bed, or would he rip Callia’s gentle company from her instead? She didn’t know which would cause her more discomfort.
Sitting idly by while he reacquainted himself with his shy daughter, Ademeni bolstered herself against this more compassionate side of his nature. She knew better than anyone that a man could be one thing with his family and another at war.
Marcus cupped Callia’s chubby face in his hands. “I’ve missed you, Sunshine.”
“Me too, Papa,” she whispered.
“You grow more beautiful each passing season. Before long, the boys will chase you across the Forum.”
Callia made a face at the mention of boys, far too young to understand the passion that could pass between a man and woman. Giggling, she played with her father’s fingers, pressing her tiny, soft palm against his large, calloused hand.
“But that’s a long way off,” Marcus said, climbing to his feet.
As soon as he released Callia, the child ran back to Ademeni and climbed onto her lap to continue their game. Once she’d redirected Callia’s attention, Ademeni regarded Marcus from behind the safety of his daughter.
If his stormy countenance was any indication, he did not appreciate his daughter’s connection to the new slave. Ademeni hid a smile. She needed to temper herself. Her weakness for Callia could become a strength, or be used against her.
* * *
“She won’t work.” Flora slammed her foot down on the slate floor of the kitchen. “She’s lazy.”
“She’s adjusting,” Lucia corrected, her tone gentle, but her expression forceful.
Marcus’s head throbbed. Ademeni was taking care of his daughter, and the gods knew what kind of rubbish she might whisper in Callia’s ear about him. About anything. Flora’s outspoken nature, while irritating, did not surprise him. She had been Julia’s body slave, and he surmised the adjustment to household duties did not suit her.
“Enough.” He held up his hands. He’d hoped to get a straight accounting of events from Flora and Lucia, but even they disagreed. Flora detested Ademeni, while Lucia seemed too generous. “When did she arrive?”
“Twenty days yesterday, dominus,” Flora said. “She refuses to go to the market, refuses to dress like a Roman and refuses to do the work laid out for her. She’s useless.”
“Why did you send her here?” Lucia asked. “The work does not demand more hands.”
Flora’s pointed look said she thought she knew exactly why Marcus had brought her into the house. To bed her.
“I didn’t send her here.” He let the revelation loose but refused to elaborate, despite their unhinged jaws. “Bring her to me.”
Flora marched away in triumph to find the wayward slave. Lucia lingered. “What will you do with her?”
“Has she said anything about herself?” Marcus looked at his mother-in-law. “Do you know who she is?”
“No.”
He paused, studying the matron, a polished political insider. “She is the daughter of the king of Dacia.”
“No wonder she doesn’t want to scrub the floor.” Lucia broke into laughter, then sobered with new understanding. “If you did not send her, why is she here?”
“That is a story for another day,” he understated. “Do you feel threatened by her?”
Lucia considered. “No. She keeps to herself, but Flora pushes her unnecessarily. You saw her in Dacia, then?”
“Yes.” But he’d never expected to see her again.
“She is a beautiful woman who has been kind to your daughter. And to your old mother.” Lucia rested a hand on his shoulder. “Consider these things when dealing with her.”
Marcus nodded, and Lucia passed
Ademeni on her way from the kitchen. As she approached, he warned himself to be practical. She’d already tried to kill him once. And the way the woman had positioned herself between Callia and him was not without danger. Any kindnesses should not be taken at face value.
As she came into full view, Marcus struggled to hold on to his thoughts. Ademeni’s red dress and headscarf made her ivory skin glow, her midnight hair more lustrous. When his fingers itched to touch those long strands, he curled his hands into fists instead.
“You wished to see me, dominus?”
Marcus narrowed his gaze. Though her tone attempted to appease, her strict posture said otherwise. She wanted a fight, but only on her terms.
“Are you well?”
She offered a faint smile. “I am well.”
He circled her. “What do you teach my daughter?”
Looking straight ahead, she said, “I teach her Latin.”
“Perhaps you should help me become friends with her again.” He stopped behind Ademeni, admiring the curve of her neck. When he drew closer, she shivered.
“And you were last home…how many years ago?”
Her soft-spoken question speared his heart, and his defenses fell into place. “That matters little.”
“Such things always matter to a child.”
Marcus faced her again, scrutinizing her, hoping to find some flaw in her argument. In her skin. She held his gaze as if she knew of what she spoke. “That may be. It would not be wise to come between us.”
“Or what will happen?” She lifted her chin. “You’ll leave her again?”
“I did not ask for you.” His words slipped out before he weighed their force. She pulled her brows together, as if taken aback by the news.
She did not need long to recover. “So you would leave me in the care of your brute, Tertullian, to whatever end he chose?”
No. “He swore he harmed none on the road.”
She shook her head. “He is a liar. And what of those in his own house?” Her body tensed, ready to pounce.
She knew Tertullian had claimed her sister. A spark of danger lit the room. Marcus took a step backward. “I have no control of his house. I have control of my house.”
“It does not seem you have control of either, dominus.”
He paused. The gods mocked him. “I did not ask for you.”
“Yet here I am.”
He cut to the heart of the matter. “And you wish to kill me, to take your vengeance on my family?”
“You are my enemy.” Her bold gaze slid down his body, then upward again, where she met his eyes. She did not hide her disdain. “My father and brothers are dead, my family has been destroyed and my country is in your hands. Should I not wish to kill you?”
“Such are the fortunes of war.”
“So they are,” she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “For everyone.”
When he did not answer, she tilted her head in defiance. “Flora demands that I sleep at the foot of your bed.”
Marcus absorbed the shock of this revelation. “This is why you were in my room, stealing my knife?”
She stilled, but her breath came faster. “Do you believe I would ever offer myself to you?”
No, but the rising color in her cheeks said differently. “It is not my wish that you do so. Sleep in your own bed.”
Here he stood, arguing with a slave. And losing. He changed tactics, hoping to divert her attention. “You should go into the city, to the market, the baths. It’s not good for you to be here all day, every day. Flora says you refuse to leave.”
Eyes flashing, Ademeni answered, “She refuses to have me with her. She says I will disgrace her.”
“That will change, if you agree to go.”
Another moment passed before she nodded. “I will wear my own clothing. Flora insists my head be uncovered, but that is shameful to me.”
“So be it.” This was not wise, but she would learn on her own. Successful for the moment, he offered her something in return. “Lucia tells me that you have been kind to her. And to Callia.”
They stood toe to toe again. Marcus searched for the fine balance that would bring harmony to his house. Being in Rome was his duty—for now—and he needed home to be a place of refuge, so he could be most effective. “You have my gratitude.”
“Someone must care for them in your absence.”
Her barb hit his heart, guilt bubbling to the surface again. He had only one maneuver left to keep her in check.
“If you come between me and my family, I will sell you.” The edge of his words could have cut stone. “I will hand you to Tertullian…as he requested.”
She blanched, took a step backward. Marcus hated himself.
Her answer was barely audible. “I am at your mercy.”
Chapter Four
Out of breath, Ademeni slowed her steps near the entrance to the place Flora called the Forum. The scent of robust wine and farm animals mingled with the masses on an early morning breeze, doing little to settle her uneasy stomach.
She’d never seen so much humanity crammed into one small area. A solid line of buildings defined the space. Hulking stone structures, temples, offices and baths shaded one side of the Forum. The lane stretched in a never-ending row of shops and apartments, braced by too many vendors’ carts to count.
The colors of the avenue stole Ademeni’s breath. Even the scandalous graffiti scrawled on the walls seemed to pulse with life. Regal columns dotted the thoroughfare, rising to the heavens on vivid streaks of red, blue and gold.
Winding queues of street vendors bartered with the mob, their chatter a constant buzz. The crowd moved like ocean waves, giving and taking as the citizens directed themselves toward separate goals. A solider held an occasional post along the route, and others weaved through the patrons to quell disputes before they started.
She expected to see Marcus every time they stopped. Ridiculous, of course, but she could not yet distinguish among the uniforms.
Ademeni avoided these men with their red capes and sheathed swords. They studied her with beady-eyed curiosity. Common sense told her to run back to the house. Coming with Flora had been a mistake. She hadn’t expected Marcus to send her so soon. She hadn’t thought him serious.
Palms sweating, she scurried closer to Flora, who refused to slow her step. They pushed into the swarm, weaving past the more ornate goods at the front before moving toward vendors of wheat, barley, wine and honey at the heart of the mall.
While they paused at each station, Ademeni regained some portion of her bearings, only to lose them again. Sweat trickled down her back, although the sun had not yet reached its highest point. Bodies pressed against her at every turn, their accidental touch souring her mood.
Flora handed Ademeni item after item until she ran out of hands with which to hold things. Barter flew between Flora and the storekeepers like flashes of lightning, so that Ademeni grew frustrated trying to keep up.
Worse than the bustle, Ademeni bore the stares of the women who paused to look at her, scrutinizing her appearance from head to toe, commenting to one another on her unusual attire. Flora averted her eyes, acting as if they had not come together.
Fresh resentment brewed in Ademeni’s heart. Although everything in the Forum was foreign to her, in truth, she was the most foreign thing within its borders. A princess no longer, not even in name. She’d lost everything but her style of dress.
Roman matrons jeered at her clothing, pointing to her headscarf and testing the fabric of her loose gown with their fingers. When she pulled away, they scoffed, the sound raking down her back like a whip.
Flora gave her no quarter, snapping her fingers when ready to move on. Ademeni wanted to flee, but one look at the maze of streets and she knew she wouldn’t get far on her own.
Curse Marcus for forcing her out of the house! He’d acted as though this excursion would be good for her. She’d been too proud to admit her fears lest he think she’d weakened, but she wondered if he’d
sent her out just to be humiliated.
A sudden realization spread through her like a dose of slow, bitter medicine.
She must learn these places. For her own survival she had to be able to navigate the streets. To become familiar enough with Rome to leave it. The outing now took on new meaning. When she managed to extract revenge, she’d have but a few precious moments to escape.
Once she forced her panic to the back of her mind, she saw things with new eyes. Every strata of society mixed here, from the poor beggar and petty thief in the dust to the aristocrats who darted from their litters into the offices or baths lining each side of the avenue. Each had their usefulness.
While nothing looked familiar, everything looked the same, cities being similar in purpose. She had only to learn the new pattern of this particular place. The hum of business in the morning. The sigh of leisure in the afternoon. The frenzy of entertainment during special events.
“Come.” Flora snapped her fingers. “Stop gawking.”
Ademeni’s small triumph faded under renewed attack from suspicious women in the street who had gathered behind them as they moved from here to there. The general commotion of the market was broken by their hissing stream of gossip.
“She is one of them,” a young woman yelled into the crowd, her finger directing all eyes to Ademeni. “Look at her dress!”
Heat rose in Ademeni’s cheeks and the hair prickled on the back of her neck. She faced her accuser and saw only rage directed at her. She’d always been protected, sheltered, even. Now, she relied on Flora to fend off the venom cast her way. This would never do.
A stone hit her between the shoulder blades. As she turned her head, another grazed her cheek with its sharp edge. A third stone struck her hip. Stunned by this sudden turn, she stood frozen to the spot while stones and words were hurled.
“My husband died in Dacia!”
“On your knees, dog!”
“An eye for an eye!”
She gasped. They did not know to whom they spoke. Anger broke through fear and she straightened her spine to help raise her courage.
Just as she prepared to lash out, Flora gripped her arm and jerked her through the tightening knot of women. A soldier appeared beside them, knuckles white around the handle of his gladius.
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