The Warrior's Bride Prize

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘I haven’t lost anything yet.’ As if to prove it, he threw a pair of fives and Scaevola’s exultant expression turned surly again.

  ‘You still haven’t brought all of your pieces on to the board.’

  ‘Neither have you.’ Marius glared across the table. ‘Why don’t you concentrate on your own game and let me worry about mine?’

  They continued in even deeper silence, the tension disturbed only by the scuffing sound of Arvina’s boots as he paced up and down behind them. Marius didn’t think he’d ever played a game so seriously in his life. Scaevola had sobered up noticeably, too, though his skin was still stained a faint shade of purple. It gave him a slightly unreal appearance, as if they were playing in a dream.

  If it was a dream, however, he thought it must be a nightmare, one in which he felt completely out of his depth. Scaevola was clearly an experienced player while he was more than a little out of practice. He tried not to dwell upon that fact, trying to hold his nerve as he moved his pieces steadily around the board, occasionally catching the other man out, occasionally being captured himself. Even so, after ten minutes, he had the vague and somewhat startling impression that he was gradually winning. Every roll seemed to be exactly the one that he needed until, at last, he heard Scaevola suck in a sharp breath.

  ‘You need a pair of sixes to win.’ The taunt held more than a trace of fear.

  Marius didn’t answer as he picked up the dice, rolling them around in his hand for a few seconds as he willed them to fall favourably. Two sixes was a tall order, but if he rolled any lower then both of his last pieces would be exposed, and at this point in the game, that could scupper his entire chances of winning. Scaevola’s pieces were perfectly positioned for a counter-attack. In which case, he told himself, he had no choice but to roll high. There was such a thing as beginner’s luck, wasn’t there?

  He let his hand hover over the board for a second and then dropped the dice, his throat constricting as time seemed to slow and they rolled gradually to a standstill. Then he stared in amazement, only the pressure of Arvina’s hand on his shoulder telling him he wasn’t imagining things.

  ‘Marius wins!’ The other Centurion sounded almost as shocked as he felt.

  ‘You cheated!’ Scaevola shot to his feet, overturning the table and almost himself as he did so. ‘Those dice are weighted.’

  ‘They’re my dice,’ Drusus interjected.

  ‘He still cheated. You all saw it!’

  ‘All we saw was Marius winning.’ To Arvina’s credit, he didn’t hesitate to stand up for him. ‘There was no cheating.’

  ‘You’re all in this together! I’ll see you all disciplined.’ Scaevola’s face turned an even more vivid shade of purple. ‘It’s my word against yours.’

  ‘That’s four against one.’ Drusus came to stand at Marius’s other shoulder. ‘We’ll vouch for you if you need us to, Varro.’

  Marius stood up at last, his senses still reeling from shock and relief. He’d been so close to losing and yet somehow he’d managed to throw exactly the right combination, winning the game and Livia, too. He felt the same as he did after a battle, as if his emotions had all been put on hold and he was struggling to come back to reality.

  ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’ He faced Scaevola over the upturned table. ‘A man of honour wouldn’t go back on his word.’

  ‘I made a promise to her brother.’ Scaevola’s lips were almost white now. ‘I owe him money. If I don’t marry her, he’ll take the case to the Governor. I could be imprisoned. You don’t understand, Varro—I have to marry her.’

  ‘So that you can punish her?’ Marius repeated his earlier threat with a steely expression.

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’ Scaevola was close to begging now. ‘I won’t lay a finger on her. You have my word.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  The Tribune’s face blazed with a sudden burst of hatred. ‘If you do this, then I’ll destroy you. My family won’t let me rot in a prison cell for long. I’ll be back and I’ll make what happened to your father seem like a stroll along the Tiber. I’m not bluffing, Varro. Either forget this game ever happened or I’ll ruin your career.’

  Briefly Marius considered the threat. Money and possessions were one thing—his career another. He’d spent half of his lifetime following one distinct path and purpose with only one aim in mind. Was he really prepared to risk his ambition, his honour, the promotion that would finally redeem his family name, all for a woman?

  Yes. He’d known that at the start of the game, though his reasons for doing so were somehow less clear. Still, his moment of misgiving was just that, a moment. He believed Scaevola’s threats, but if he’d needed any further proof that he was doing the right thing, this was it. He wasn’t just saving her from an unwanted marriage. He was saving her from a monster.

  ‘Then there’s nothing more to say.’

  He picked up his sword and slid it back into its scabbard, relieved to feel its solid weight against his hip again. Somehow he’d kept his money, his prized sword, and won himself a wife into the bargain.

  A wife?

  The realisation sank slowly into his consciousness. All the wine he’d consumed had prevented him from realising the full implications before, but now the truth hit him like a hammer in the chest. He hadn’t just been playing for Livia’s freedom, although that had been his main concern. He’d been playing for a wife. She’d already told him that her brother would probably refuse to take her back if she didn’t marry Scaevola, which meant that he had no choice but to do the honourable thing and offer her an alternative.

  Would she want him? He frowned. That was something he probably ought to have considered before risking his money and career on a game. After all, he was only an obscure centurion, not to mention one with a disgraced family name—the details of which he was now going to have to tell her. She’d said that she preferred him an hour ago, but what if that was only in comparison to Scaevola? What if his family history changed her mind? Would she still prefer him to Scaevola? Or had he just blighted his career for nothing?

  There was only one way to find out. He had to go and tell her everything and then offer her the choice. When dawn came he’d go and speak to Nerva, ask him permission to make a formal offer for her hand. Perhaps by then it might have started to feel real for him, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Livia opened her eyes reluctantly, roused by the light touch of a hand on her shoulder. After a restless night, she felt as though she’d only just got to sleep and the last thing she wanted was to be dragged awake again.

  ‘Wake up.’ Hermenia’s voice was insistent. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ She heaved herself up on her elbows, turning quickly towards Julia on the other side of the room, but the little girl was sleeping peacefully. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Hermenia was still in her night tunica. ‘Nerva told me to fetch you. He needs to speak with you.’

  ‘Oh...just a moment.’

  Livia climbed out of bed and pulled a shawl over her tunica, seized with a dull sense of dread. Was it about her and Marius? She glanced at Hermenia nervously, wondering if she’d felt compelled to tell her husband what she’d seen, after all. She couldn’t imagine what else it could be, but whatever it was, it had to be important. Judging by the faint glow emanating from the sky above the courtyard, it was only just past dawn, and there was no sight or sound of activity anywhere else in the villa.

  She followed Hermenia into Nerva’s office, unsurprised to find Marius already standing in front of the Legate’s desk. He wasn’t wearing his armour, for once, though he looked no less imposing, his arms folded behind his back as if he were on trial. Was he? Her heart plummeted to the soles of her thin leather slippers. It was hard to tell which of the two men looked the most sombre. It must be a trial. Hermenia must have
told and now they’d both been summoned for punishment. The only consolation was that there was no sign of Scaevola.

  ‘My apologies for waking you so early—’ Nerva’s expression was unreadable ‘—but Marius has something he needs to say.’

  ‘Oh.’ It wasn’t exactly the condemnation she’d been expecting.

  ‘Perhaps in the courtyard?’ The Legate gestured towards the door. ‘The two of you have a lot to talk about.’

  She turned towards Marius in consternation as he took hold of her arm and led her outside. There was no softness in his touch, although it wasn’t exactly rough either. Instead it felt strangely official, as if he were a guard leading a prisoner, and yet she still couldn’t stop her body from reacting to the heat of his fingers against her skin.

  ‘Marius? What’s going on?’

  She raised a hand to her arm, rubbing it lightly over the place where his fingers had been as he released her and folded his arms behind his back again. He still looked sombre and she glanced around as if the scene itself might reveal something, but it was too dark to make out much of the courtyard. A pair of torches illuminated the colonnade behind, but all she could see of the garden were decorative oscillae twirling in the trees around them, silver discs reflecting the last of the fading starlight. They looked eerily beautiful and mysterious sparkling in the darkness—almost as much as the situation she found herself in.

  ‘I played a game of tabula with Scaevola last night.’

  ‘You...played a game?’

  She repeated the words slowly. There was no preamble, no apology for waking her, no mention of their kiss, just a bizarre statement of fact about a game. The words were as incongruous as they were surprising. She hadn’t thought that he was on good enough terms with Scaevola to play games with him, especially after the events of the previous evening, but what did tabula have to do with their situation? What did it have to do with anything? It didn’t even begin to explain why Nerva had sent them off alone together.

  Alone. The thought made her pulse start to quiver. They ought not to be alone together. It was too dangerous. Hermenia had said as much, so why had she allowed it? She opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first.

  ‘I won.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The game. I won.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stared at him blankly. Did he expect her to congratulate him? ‘And you woke me to tell me that?’

  ‘No.’ His expression shifted to one she hadn’t seen there before, as if he were uncertain of himself. He seemed to be having trouble finding words. ‘There’s more...about Scaevola.’

  ‘Has something happened to him?’ She felt a fleeting, very fleeting, moment of concern. If he was hurt in some way then it would explain his absence. Although it might also postpone their wedding, she thought hopefully.

  ‘Not physically, but, yes, in a manner of speaking. He ran out of money.’

  ‘You mean he was gambling?’

  He inclined his head and she rolled her eyes scornfully. Of course he’d been gambling and now he’d run out of funds again, just as he had in Lindum. She was amazed he’d had anything left to play with in the first place. Then she tensed as another thought struck her. Was that why Marius was there? Because Scaevola owed him money? Had he come to ask her to pay the debt? Her mouth turned dry at the thought. Surely that couldn’t be the reason he’d come to wake her and yet...what else could be so important?

  She pulled her shoulders back, bracing herself for the worst. ‘If he’s indebted to you, then I’m afraid I can’t help. I don’t have any money of my own.’

  He drew his brows together so sharply they met in a hard line in the middle. ‘I’m not here for money, Livia. Is that what you think of me?’ His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘After last night?’

  She tensed again as the low, intimate tone of his voice sent a frisson of excitement racing through her body, though she forced herself to ignore it. They shouldn’t talk about last night.

  ‘No. You’re right—I shouldn’t have said that. I just thought...’ She licked her lips, trying to put her confusion into words. ‘I don’t think of you like that, but why are you here, Marius? What’s so important about a game? Did Scaevola lose so much?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not about money...’

  ‘Then what?’

  He muttered an expletive before answering. ‘He staked you.’

  ‘What?’ Her body seemed to go into shock, though it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the words.

  ‘He had no money left, so he staked you.’

  ‘In a game of tabula?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re saying that he offered me as a prize?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that you won?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you won...me?’

  The word fell like a stone into a river between them, a heavy splash followed by a series of small, yet equally powerful shock waves. Neither of them moved or made a sound, as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room suddenly. Which was impossible, she thought, since they were in a courtyard. It wasn’t even a room. There was no roof. There was air around and above them...

  But Marius was still speaking, she realised, only she couldn’t make out the words. His lips appeared to be moving, but there was no sound, at least none that she could hear. She felt as if she were inside a bubble, isolated from everything except the vibrations of her own heartbeat, thudding against her chest like a drum. And then the shock waves ceased and the air seemed to pop suddenly and sound came back in a roaring torrent, bringing with it a tumult of anger and disappointment.

  This time, she felt as if there was too much noise around her, as if every thought in her head were shouting and clamouring for attention all at once. Scaevola had staked her. That idea was outrageous enough, but what exactly did it mean? Since he couldn’t not marry her without facing some kind of retribution from Tarquinius, he couldn’t have staked her personally—which meant that it had to be something else that Marius had won, something that Scaevola himself didn’t want, but that other men might.

  There was only one thing she could think of.

  She clutched a hand to her belly, feeling as if she were about to start retching. Was this Scaevola’s idea of punishment for her pouring wine over his head? Or was it simply a glimpse of her future, being used as payment for her husband’s gambling debts? Either way, how could he demean her like this, whoring her out as if she were his possession to do with as he pleased? How could he still expect her to marry him after this? Even if he didn’t want her himself, how could he stoop so low? Worse still, how could Marius agree to it?

  ‘Livia?’

  Marius reached out a hand towards her, but she staggered backwards, horrified by the thought that he’d actually colluded in the game. He’d played for her, treating her just as callously as Tarquinius and Scaevola had ever done! She would never have believed it of him, not unless the words had come from his own lips, which they just had. Were all men the same, then? Whatever their outward behaviour might suggest, were they all equally monsters underneath?

  Or was it because of their kiss? She lifted a hand to her mouth. The memory of that encounter had been one that she’d wanted to savour, to remember during the lonely years to come, but perhaps he’d taken it to mean more. Perhaps he’d thought that she wanted to sleep with him!

  If she’d ever been tempted by the idea, she wasn’t any more. Every moment she’d spent with him felt jaded. Foolishly, she’d thought that he was different, that there had been some kind of special bond between them, but now she realised that it had only ever been physical. He’d gambled for her body, that was all.

  She lifted her hands, making a barrier between them.

  ‘Let me get this straight. You won me in a game of tabula from the man my brother sent me to marry?’

  H
e nodded stiffly. ‘I was trying to help.’

  ‘Help?’ If there had been any kind of weapon nearby, she would have attacked him with it. There were only stones at her feet and she wondered how much damage she could inflict by hurling them.

  ‘You said you didn’t want to marry Scaevola.’

  ‘And you think that gives you the right to gamble on me?’ She took an angry step towards him, lifting a finger and jabbing it into his chest. ‘Do you think I’ll just do what I’m told because the two of you played a game?’

  ‘No.’ He didn’t flinch. ‘I intended to give you a choice.’

  ‘A choice?’ Somehow the words only made her angrier. ‘Before or after my marriage? Or doesn’t Scaevola care who his barbarian wife sleeps with?’

  A hand shot up and circled her wrist as she made to jab him again, his face registering a series of emotions, starting with shock and culminating in anger.

  ‘I intended to give you a choice about marrying me.’

  ‘Marrying...you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He let go of her wrist again, though her arm stayed where it was as if frozen. ‘That’s why I’m here. I came to ask you to marry me.’

  Her mouth fell open, though she had no idea what to say. She hadn’t been asked anything for as long as she could remember. She’d only been told what to do for the past ten years. The idea of being asked to make any decision at all seemed incredible. Being asked whether she wanted to marry him rendered her utterly speechless.

  Even when they’d kissed, the thought of marrying him had never occurred to her. She might have wished that he’d been the man she’d come to marry, but the possibility had seemed as remote as the stars. She’d been a legal possession of her brother and an integral part of the business arrangement he’d made with Scaevola. There had been no question of her having a choice.

  But if Scaevola really had gambled her, then surely it meant that his agreement with Tarquinius was no longer valid? Nerva’s sending them outside to discuss matters suggested that he thought so, too. Tarquinius might dispute it, given that she was still legally under his care until a marriage took place, but then Tarquinius wasn’t there. Marius was.