by Vivian Arend
She choked back a bitter laugh. After the emperor had upset the hierarchy of the nobility by marrying a former slave, the Deizians all watched with bated breath to see if she would bear him a son and heir. If she did, then they would all probably revolt at the idea of a half-Alpirion sitting on the throne in a few decades.
“Then send for a litter. I think I need to pay our benefactor a little visit.” She opened her trunk and pulled out one of her most alluring dresses. Not that it would entice Numicius to loosen his tongue. He’d probably regard her with his flat, emotionless eyes and say nothing, but she wouldn’t leave until she at least tried to wrench some information from him.
Two hours later, Sexta’s litter arrived at the home of Numicius Aceulo. It was situated on the cliffs overlooking the city with the other nobles’ villas, high enough to catch the cool breezes in summer and far away from the stench of the city. Dozens of chariots clogged the driveway, and the faint sound of music drifted from the brightly lit villa.
Sexta patted her hair and covered it with her palla, thankful she’d decided to wear her best dress. If she was going to crash a party, at least she looked the part. The slaves standing guard by the door barely gave her a second glance as she entered. Inside, the chatter from the blond Deizian nobles ran together in a loud hum as they reclined on cushions and sipped from their golden chalices. A few recognized her, their faces paling at her miraculous resurrection from the afterlife, but no one ordered her to leave. Like her mother, she’d kept track of their secrets, and none dared offend her without risking exposure.
She worked around the edges of the room, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention until she came to the host. He was tall and lanky, his blond hair thinning on top of his head and making his forehead seem longer than those of most Deizian men. “Numicius,” she said, bowing her head in respect. “May I have a word with you in private?”
His wife openly glared at her, but Numicius gave her a bemused smile that never reached those cold eyes of his. “Let’s take a turn in my garden.”
Warning bells pealed in her mind. Usually, he took her to his office. But as he led her outside to an open area in the garden where they could be seen but not heard by his guests, she relaxed. “Scared people will think you’ve taken me as your mistress?”
“Hardly,” he said, wrinkling his nose. Under the moonlight, he seemed paler than normal, as though he’d been battling a long illness. His features seemed sharper and more pronounced than she remembered. “Be quick. I have guests to tend to.”
“What was in that shipment you had me deliver to Shalfak?”
“No, no, no,” he chided. “That’s not part of our agreement.”
“Then I suppose you haven’t heard the news. Shalfak was attacked, and all its citizens have vanished.”
“That’s no concern of mine.” His pale blue eyes grew colder as he added, “And it shouldn’t be of yours, either, if you know what’s good for you.”
Her blood chilled, sending tiny shivers through her with each beat of her heart. “I won’t do anything that endangers innocent lives, Numicius. That’s not what I signed up for.”
“But you made a bargain with me, and you will adhere to it or face the consequences.” He closed the space between them, malice dripping from his voice. “I gave you what you desired, and I can take it all away.”
Her soul wrestled with the consequences of her next action. If she defied him, he might not only take away her ship, but her life. But if she continued to follow his orders, how many other towns would she help to destroy? “What are you up to?”
His chuckle was more sinister than amused. “You’ll soon find out. In the meantime, I expect you to abide by our agreement. One slip of your tongue, and I’ll destroy all you hold dear.”
He flipped his red toga over his shoulder and returned to the dinner party inside.
Sexta rubbed her hands together, wishing she could thaw the ice in her veins. She’d been so desperate to escape the prison her mother had built that she never considered her so-called freedom would come with such a heavy price. If she went to the emperor now and begged him for protection, would he be willing to offer it based on how little she knew? Or would more information sweeten the deal?
She closed her eyes and tried to find another solution, but there was no escaping her path. She needed to return to Shalfak, both to see the situation for herself and to find any clues that would connect it to Numicius. The stronger the case against Numicius, the more likely she’d be able to stop him.
She opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath of courage.
But when she turned to leave, she ran into a hard, well-muscled chest. A pair of hands clamped around her upper arms. “Leaving already?” Marcus asked.
“Actually, I was.” She struggled against him, but his grip was as solid as the rest of his body.
He pulled her deeper into the garden, far away from prying eyes, and pinned her against one of the pillars holding up a small colonnade near the ravine that ran along the back of the villa. “What are you doing here, Sexta?”
“I could ask the same thing about you.”
“I’m following you.”
She silently cursed. No wonder it had been so easy to sneak away from the ship. He’d set her up. “I was invited to the party.”
He closed the space between them, his body pressing against hers. “Don’t lie to me.”
A rogue trickle of desire flared inside her, distracting her from the danger of the situation for a brief, blessed second. She’d forgotten how nice Marcus smelled. It was an intoxicating mix of spice and leather and pure manliness. Her hands itched to trace the curve of his neck, to run her fingers through his hair and pull him closer to her lips.
Watch it. Remember what happened the last time you let your guard down around him.
She balled her hands into fists before she gave into temptation. “I need to return to my ship.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re here.” His gaze flickered to her lips, his eyes seeming to grow brighter with jealousy. “Were you making arrangements with a new client?”
“And if I was?”
A flare of his nostrils hinted at his anger. “I have half a mind to do what I should’ve done ten months ago.”
“And what is that? Call me whore and leave some money on the table after you’d taken your pleasure from me, just like every man who’d gone before you?”
At least he had the good conscience to wince. The hard set of his mouth softened, but he made no effort to back away. Instead, he ran the back of his fingers along the side of her face in a gentle caress that tore through more of her defenses than his threats. “Why are you making me the villain here, Sexta? I told you I loved you, and you made me believe you were dead.”
By the gods, he knew how to worm his way into her heart better than any man she’d known. She knew better than to ask for forgiveness. Make him hate you. Make him forget about you.
She opened her mouth to say something that would twist his emotions into disgust, but her gaze fell on the jagged scar peeking out from the edge of his tunic. Her breath caught as she imagined the injury that would’ve caused such a mark. She pulled back the fabric, tracing the ridge from his neck to his upper arm. “What happened?”
“I got careless.”
The pain and longing in his reply ripped at her conscience. It was all her fault. Instead of freeing him to find happiness with someone he deserved, she’d caused his injury as surely as if she stabbed him with the blade that caused the scar. She closed her eyes before she gave into him and hurt him even more. “I’m sorry, Marcus, for everything. I never wanted to hurt you, but just like now, I had no choice. Please, let me go.”
“Not a chance, Sexta. I lost you once, and part of me died with you. I’m never letting you go again.” As if to prove his point, his lips claimed hers in a kiss that spoke of his determination.
Sexta drew in a sharp breath and let the tingle of pleasure race through her. Her mind scr
eamed at her to stop, but her body refused to obey. Instead, her tongue danced around his in the slow, sensual dance only lovers knew. She tasted his desire, and her knees buckled under the intensity of it.
Marcus caught her and pulled her closer. Her palla fell from her shoulders as his hands explored her bare arms before tightening around her waist. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach, enticing her with the memories of how good he felt inside her, tempting her once again.
He ended the kiss, his breath ragged as through he’d just wrestled with a gladiator. “Whatever you’re hiding, you don’t have to be afraid. Tell me, and I’ll protect you.”
One slip of your tongue, and I’ll destroy all you hold dear.
Numicius’s threat chased away the warm desire that Marcus had awakened. Too many had already suffered because of her. She refused to let Marcus be next. Her mind raced for an escape, but he held her with arms as strong as iron chains. “Please, Marcus, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll only bring you pain?”
“Funny, because all I can think about when we’re like this is how much pleasure you bring me.” He kissed her again, his growing need fanning her own and clouding her mind.
Think, before you do something foolish that will get him killed.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, playing along while she searched for a weapon. Her fingertips grazed the gladius hanging from his belt, and an escape plan formed in her mind. All she needed was to distract him long enough to put it in action.
She started kissing him back, earning a guttural moan from him. His hold on her loosened enough for her to slip her palla around the column. Then, as she continued to indulge him with the enticing flicks of her tongue and nibbles of her teeth, she inched his sword out from its scabbard.
He yanked his head back, abruptly ending their kiss. “What the—”
She brought the hilt down on the back of his head with as much force as she could muster.
His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled into her arms.
She staggered under his weight as she guided him to the ground and reached for the palla she’d looped around the column. He was already starting to stir, and she cursed her inability to knock him out completely. The past few months on board the ship had made tying knots second nature, and by the time she’d tightened the silk around his wrists, the bindings were secure.
He opened his eyes as she stood, his gaze still unfocused. A groan rose from his chest.
Her chest became heavy with guilt as she watched him come around. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”
It was far easier to witness his face twisting in anger than the affection she’d seen moments before. He strained against the silk around his wrists. “Sexta, untie me now, or the gods help me, I’m going to lock you away in the deepest cell of the imperial prison.”
“Believe when I say I’m doing this for your own good.” She reached out to brush a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, but thought better of it. The silk would only hold for so long. She was wasting precious seconds in sentimentality. “Please, don’t follow me.”
She turned around and ran through the gardens, her heart aching every time he called her name. But she couldn’t go back. She’d chosen her path, and now she was forced to see her way to the end of it, starting with finding out what happened in Shalfak.
She skirted along the edge of the villa until she came to the line of chariots waiting in front of it. Her litter waited at one end, but it would only move as fast as the men carrying it. A Deizian chariot would be much faster. She scanned the waiting vehicles, spotting the familiar crest of the Lepidus family—Marcus’s chariot. Her stomach curled in a mixture of fear and excitement as she raced toward it and hopped in the back. A trickle of magic from her Deizian blood flowed through the ore when she pressed her palm against the control pad, and the chariot rose into the air. A nearby Elymanian gave a cry of warning, but she urged the wheel-less vehicle forward.
A grim smile formed on her lips as she sped back to the docks. Even if Marcus managed to untie himself, he’d be stranded at the party, giving her more time to escape.
The masts of The Temptress came into view, and she slowed down, abandoning Marcus’s chariot before she reached the guards stationed around her ship. She learned enough tonight to know she needed to go to Shalfak for the rest of her answers, and the sooner she left, she sooner she could figure out what Numicius was planning.
Two of her men stood by the gangplank, waiting for her signal to pull it. Once her foot touched the deck, they yanked it back. A shout of alarm rose from one of the guards. She pressed her hand to the ship’s wheel, releasing a trickle of magic, and the engine roared to life. The exhilarating hum vibrated through the ship, and the ropes securing it to the dock snapped taut.
Djer handed her a small clay orb with threads of ore laced through it. “I suspect we’ll need this.”
“I like the way you think.” She took the bomb and focused her magic through it. A spark raced along the ore toward the detonation device in the center, and she tossed it over the side. The explosion created the chaos she needed while her men cut the ropes. By the time the smoke cleared, they were already sailing into the sky. Sexta took hold of the wheel and steered the ship south toward Alpiria.
Djer crossed his arms and stood beside her. “We’re going to be in trouble for this, you know.”
“I know.”
“Why do I have the feeling there’s more you’re not telling me?”
“Because there is.” She added another surge of magic to the engines, and the ship picked up speed. “Something happened in Shalfak, and if I don’t solve this mystery soon, the safety of the empire could be in jeopardy.”
“Sounds like something the emperor should tend to, not us.”
“Do you think he’d even give me a chance to explain? You heard Marcus earlier—they already think I’m the one responsible, and until I have evidence to prove otherwise, we’re on our own.” She chewed her bottom lip, replaying her encounter first with Numicius, then with Marcus. Guilt ate at her soul. “I need to do this, if only to soothe my conscience.”
“That conscience of yours can be a dangerous thing, my lady.”
“So is not listening to it.”
Sweat beaded along Marcus’s brow as he contorted his body into an unnatural angle. He’d chosen this isolated corner of the garden for the privacy it offered, never thinking he’d be hidden from everyone at the party. His fingers grazed the hilt of the dagger strapped to his thigh. Just a bit more. The scar along his shoulder protested with each stretched inch, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.
Sexta had tricked him again.
Fool! When are you going to realize she doesn’t care for you?
And yet, for that brief moment she’d noticed his injury, he held on to the hope that maybe she did care. Anguish had washed over her face seconds before she’d closed her eyes and begged him to let her go. She’d wanted to stay with him, but as before, something held her back.
Believe when I say I’m doing this for your own good.
He spat out a curse. The foolish woman thought she was protecting him when all she was really doing was digging herself into more trouble.
Footsteps approached, and Marcus stiffened. This night couldn’t end soon enough.
“Well, this is something I never expected to find.” Rufius grinned like a cheeky lieutenant who’d just caught the general in a compromising position. “I didn’t see you as the bondage type.”
“Just shut the hell up and untie me.”
Rufius tugged at the silk palla, but the knots were too tight for him to pry apart. “You have to admit, she makes an excellent sailor.” He pulled out a knife and started sawing at the fabric.
“What are you doing here?”
“Where do I start? Shall I begin with the fact you didn’t return to the palace in time and the emperor was worried enough to send me after you like a nanny min
ding an errant child? Or the fact I just saw a woman matching the description of The Temptress’s captain steal a chariot and take off before I had a chance to stop her?”
A new string of curses rolled off Marcus’s tongue, and he snapped his arms back, shredding the last of the fabric. “The damn woman is on a suicide mission.”
“Maybe so, but as for me personally, I’d like to meet the lady who could get you all tied in knots.” Rufius picked up the edge of the shredded palla and waved it in the air like a flag of surrender.
“Say one more word about this, and I’ll have you demoted and back on the front lines as a lowly private.” Marcus unsheathed his knife and cut the rest of the fabric from his wrists. “How long ago did she leave?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Which direction did she take off in?”
“South.”
A loud boom sounded from the docks in the city center, followed by the flicker of flames.
Rufius let out a low whistle. “Fifty korins says she’s the one behind that.”
Marcus’s gut tightened. He doubted even his imperial connections would be able to save Sexta after that. “She’d going back to Shalfak.”
“Lucky for us, we’re going that way, too.” Rufius slapped him on the back. “Maybe we can rendezvous with her there and get to the bottom of this mess before we have to arrest her.”
Marcus didn’t answer as he stormed through the gardens and past the main villa, avoiding the party inside. Something wasn’t adding up. Sexta had just ended a conversation with Numicius Aculeo when he’d arrived, but as far as he knew, she’d never had any connection with him before. What brought them together now?
“Rufius, do we have anyone who could keep an eye on our host?”
“I’m sure Varro knows someone.”
“Then I’ll ask him before we leave.” Marcus hated having to waste precious time asking the former captain of the Legion to suggest someone, but it would be worth it if the nobleman were involved in any of this. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was connected to what happened in Shalfak.”