by Nhys Glover
I nodded, agreeing that he had made the right call. “Go on, what then?”
Though he was not the storyteller that Asterius was, his voice lacking the inflections or the descriptive elements of good storytelling, I at least found out how we came to be where we were now.
“Then my new friend signed me up for the caravan you were leaving on. I spent the first few days getting a feel for the situation. Those bastards were good. Even when you were with the women one or other of them had you in sight. My plan had been to cause a diversion once we reached Palmyra, and get you away then, but the bandits attacking proved the perfect opportunity.”
“I actually thought you might have organised the attack as a diversion,” I said.
He laughed in that constrained way he had. I had barely ever heard him belly-laugh deeply and fully like his brothers.
“I wish. But the gods were obviously with me yet again. And I made use of the distraction to capture a dead bandit’s horse and come for you. The rest you know.”
“You had a horse of your own?” I asked irrelevantly.
“I was assigned one as part of the protection detail. If anyone from the caravan sees me, I’m a dead man. I deserted my post under fire.”
I gnawed at my bottom lip worriedly. Orion’s blue gaze focused in on it. Critical, I assumed, of the nervous habit I had developed only recently. Letting go of my lip, I tried to put on a confident face I did not feel. We were free for now, but my kidnappers would not give up looking for me.
At that moment, a soft scratching at the door drew our attention, and Orion went to open it. The old crone entered with supplies I recognised.
“You two look much improved. I thought you must be a Northman. Your dark skin and hair did not seem right with those bright blue eyes.”
She dropped to her creaking knees and took up one of my feet. Tutting in a way that reminded me too much of my dear Minerva, she began applying her poultice and binding my feet with clean bandages.
“What are you using? I smell lavender and witch hazel. Is the green pulp aloe?” I asked with interest.
The woman looked at me in surprise. “Yes. Aloe. You are a healer? Roman patricians usually see such a pastime as beneath them. Or so I was told when I was married to Lucius.”
I shrugged. “I am. I was able to keep it a secret from my pater for a long time. Now... Now he allows me to help in emergencies.”
“Why does your pater still determine your actions? Is that not your husband’s job now?”
I realised my mistake immediately. Orion had told the woman I was his wife and that I was with child.
“Pater is still head of my paterfamilias. Orion was adopted into ours by my grandfather when he was a boy. He is not my social equal, for all the adoption. But Pater wanted me to be happy. And I am. I got to marry for love.” I looked at Orion, and wished what I was saying was the truth. Because I did love this taciturn, serious man every bit as much as I did the others. He just made it harder to do, keeping me at emotional arm’s length as he did so often.
“Your pater is a rare man. Most would not allow such a thing,” the crone said bitterly. “My second husband refused to let our eldest daughter marry for love, and she ended up being killed by her brute of a husband. I never forgave Abraxus until the day he drew his last breath.”
“That is sad. I am so sorry for you. Men consider thinking is more important than feeling,” I told her, patting a hand that had skin like too-thin leather. “Sometimes they are wrong.”
“What is your name, girl? I have been remiss in introducing myself. But I was not sure about you two. Strangers are always to be suspected, you know. I am Maleka. In my household there is my daughter, Elenia, who you have met, and her daughter Grissa. My son-in-law runs our trading business and is away with one of the caravans right now. My granddaughter would be with her husband on the same caravan if not for the fact she is about to give birth to her first child. So we are women without men. Another reason I was worried about taking you in.”
“We will go if there is any risk, I promise you,” I said to Maleka, patting her hand again. The last thing I wanted was to bring trouble to this kind woman’s door.
“No, your man is right. There is no reason why those who search for you should look here. We are out of the way, and normally the gate to our courtyard would have been locked. That someone had forgotten to close and lock it was the will of the gods. It told me that we should help you.”
“Thank you. You are very kind. My name is Accalia and this is Orion. If I can be of any assistance to your granddaughter, please ask. I have helped many women struggling during a difficult labour.”
Maleka sized me up before nodding. “Maybe so. I am a good midwife, and I have trained my daughter. But there are times when even our skills fall short.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment while she finished up the bandaging of my second foot. “Why were you taken against your will?”
I sighed heavily and looked to Orion for guidance. He had been sitting quietly listening. A little nod, which I took to mean I could say what I wished, gave me the answer I wanted.
I decided sticking as close to the truth as possible was the best course of action with this woman.
“Pater is famous for the gladiators he breeds and trains. A Parthian prince wished to marry me so he could get access to Pater’s gladiators. Instead, Pater permitted me to marry Orion. The prince sent men to kidnap me. He plans to demand many of Pater’s gladiators in return for my continued safety.”
“Gladiators? Your pater is not Ennius Corvus is he?” Maleka asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
I nodded. “You know him?”
“I met him many years ago. No, it would be his father. You are too young to be the daughter of the man I knew.”
“Yes, Pater took over the program from his pater. I am being trained to take over from him, as he has no son.”
Maleka frowned. “What about Orion here? He is both an adopted son and son-in-law. Surely he is well-suited for the role.”
I blinked rapidly, realising my mistake again. I was not good at lying. I could never keep my stories straight.
“I trained with the slaves in the barracks for many years,” Orion spoke up quickly. “So I could one day take over that aspect of the program. Accalia, we call her Accalia rather than Ennia, was groomed to take over the less practical elements of the program. I don’t have much of a head for such things.”
Maleka nodded, though she continued to frown. Not convinced. This was an astute woman not easily fooled. But telling her the whole truth... that Orion was my slave, who had just bathed me and planned to sleep at my side, would make things very difficult.
I was not sure of the attitude these people had toward slaves, but I thought it was universal that male slaves could not be permitted to do anything to disrespect their mistresses. And passing himself off as my husband was a sure sign of disrespect.
What if she thought I had run away with Orion, and it was Pater’s men after me? Would that suspicion have her making inquiries? And would those inquiries reach the ears of the Parthians? My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to beat too fast in my chest.
Orion placed a calming hand on my shoulder. I looked up to meet his blue gaze. As always, his expression told me nothing. But I thought I saw assurance in those blue depths.
Maleka packed up her medicines and bade us a good night. “If you would like to join us in the morning to break your fast you are welcome. I will send my daughter for you.”
We nodded, thanked her, and I settled down on the narrow bed, too exhausted to worry about the possible mistakes I had made.
Before I realised what he was doing, Orion was lowering himself to the carpet.
“What are you doing down there?” I demanded, a little hurt that he would choose the floor over a bed with me.
“Preparing to sleep,” he answered in his slightly superior tone.
“Can you not sleep beside me? I promise not to bite you or
kick you in the balls,” I countered, feeling more like myself now I was clean, my head had stopped aching, and the pain in my feet had been eased by the numbing properties of the poultice.
“The bed’s too narrow. I’m a big man, if you hadn’t noticed. I’m not used to sleeping in feathered beds like you, Mistress.”
I gritted my teeth. “Since when do you call me Mistress? Stop being a pig, Orion. If I can sleep next to smelly Parthians for weeks, I can sleep next to a sweet-smelling member of my pack.”
“I’m not Asterius,” he answered curtly.
I was not even sure what that meant. I knew from Talos that Asterius had told them what we had done in Sardinia. Had Talos also told them what we had done in that subterranean room for five days? I did not think so. It would have been cruel to let them know that while they had been searching for so long, thinking us dead, we had been enjoying ourselves at their expense.
“What does that mean?” I demanded uncomfortably.
“It means I don’t take advantage of innocent women,” he snapped out.
“Asterius never took advantage of me. In fact, he was the strong one. I wanted more and he said no.”
“He might not have taken your virginity, but he taught you a great deal. He shouldn’t have. It makes you vulnerable. Your husband will sense your lack of virginal modesty and make you pay dearly for your idyllic weeks in Sardinia play-acting at being husband and wife.”
My mind reeled at this possibility. He was right. I knew far too much about the intimacies between husband and wife to ever pass as completely virginal. But then, I no longer ever planned to marry.
I wondered at that decision. It had been there as a possibility for a long time. Now it was a certainty. After nearly being claimed by a Parthian prince, and having imagined the horror I would be forced to endure with him, I knew without a doubt that I could never marry. Not because a prospective husband might see through my barely-there virginity, but because I never wanted to share such intimacies with any man other than my pack. It turned my stomach to even contemplate it.
The last vestige of hope was now gone that I might one day find a good man of my own class who I could give my prized virginity to. That had never really been my dream. That had been Pater’s. Or my society’s. It had never been mine. Obligation and duty had kept me from what I really wanted: my pack.
“Accalia?” Orion said softly, likely thinking I had dropped off to sleep.
“I am never going to marry,” I said firmly. “So you need not worry about me giving our secrets away.”
He was off the floor, nose to nose with me before the last word was fully uttered. “What do you mean? Of course you’ll marry!”
I tried to push him away, but it was like pushing at a boulder. “Stop telling me what to do! I am not the slave here.” It was a low blow, but I was tired of his condescension and criticism.
Over the years I had known him, I had been constantly trying to win his affection, I now realised. It was insane how bothered I had always been by his offish behaviour and his distance.
How often had he said that I was their weakness and their vulnerability? How often had I sensed he wanted me gone, though it had been he who had invited me back when they discovered my true identity? But there had been plenty of time since the invitation to regret his decision, I supposed.
And regret that decision he likely did, every time I had almost got us all caught, and when I almost cost Talos his life with my recklessness.
His face froze above me, while his blue-eyed gaze drilled into mine. I wanted to apologise. I wanted to pull him in close and kiss his cheek. I wanted to make up for being such a problem to him all these years.
“Then you should stop acting like a slave and start being a patrician!” he snarled down at me.
“I can never do the right thing as far as you are concerned, can I? I cannot make you love me as I love you! I have been trying to do so for so long. Finally, I see how stupid I have been. And arrogant. You cannot make someone love you.”
He blinked a few times in surprise, his beautiful eyes giving him away. He flew off the bed as if my words had burned him.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go to sleep. You need to sleep,” he snapped out as he settled on his side on the floor, one muscular arm folded under his head.
I should offer him one of the pillows. It would be the right thing to do. But he would likely throw it back in my face.
Sleep was pulling me under when I heard his deep voice in the silence say, “You don’t know what you’re talking about... and it’s better that way.”
Chapter Eight
ORION
I couldn’t sleep. How could she expect me to sleep after dropping those boulders on top of me? She wasn’t going to marry, and she’d been trying to get me to love her for years? How was either possible? And why had she decided those things? Hadn’t it been enough for her to have the love and adoration of three members of our pack, did she feel she had to have mine as well?
Even though she did. Even though she always had.
But loving Accalia was a mistake. A mistake that grew more painfully obvious the longer I spent time alone with her.
She wasn’t going to marry.
Why did hearing her say that fill me with a mixture of elation and dread. I couldn’t have her, yet I didn’t want her to find happiness with someone else? How fucked up was that? How selfish was that?
But the mean, small part of me didn’t want her to find love elsewhere. I knew I never would. If I had to spend my misbegotten life alone then so should she?
Gods, I despised myself for thinking like that. A good man wouldn’t ever be so petty. A good man would want only the best for the woman he loved.
But the best wasn’t some entitled patrician who’d treat her like a prize. Or worse, as a means to an end. I knew her father’s legacy was a draw-card. Many men would love to own such a prestigious stable of fighters.
Would men like that ever see Accalia’s worth? See her strength, agile mind, kindness and self-sacrifice as the gifts they were? Or would they try to model her into the kind of woman that society expected.
Maybe it was too late for that. Maybe she could never be what was expected of her. Maybe that was why she’d decided against marriage. It wasn’t anything to do with us. It had nothing to do with being in love with us.
I wouldn’t let it!
I turned over onto my other side, feeling the hardness of the wood floor beneath me. I’d slept on worse as recently as last night, though at least sand had a bit of give. But it wasn’t the floor that kept me awake.
And so the endless hours passed, the lamps ran low and were finally extinguished, and I continued to listen to the soft breaths of the woman in the bed beside me. We were so close. If I wanted to, I could reached up and stroke her soft hair. It would be dry now. I imagined I could smell it from where I lay.
The flowers in the unguent. That was what I could smell.
But I’d always thought Accalia’s scent was unique to her and unmistakable. Though I could count the times on one hand when I had been close enough to her to breathe that scent in, I had fooled myself into believing I could pick her out from others in a dark room just from her sweet scent.
My fingers were sliding over her hair before I realised what I was doing. Yes, so soft and smooth. Just as I expected it to be.
“I love you, she-wolf. Though I’m a pathetic worm to do so, I do love you more than life itself,” I whispered into the darkness, sure she couldn’t hear me.
Reluctantly, I removed my hand and turned to lie flat on my back, my hands under my head so I couldn’t be tempted to touch her again.
On and on went that dark, lonely night. Endlessly... endlessly... on.
Don’t you move! Don’t you make a sound! If you do I’ll gut that girl of yours from breast to core. What a pretty sight that would be. So keep still and quiet and take it like a man. Or she dies. Your pretty she-wolf dies!
I st
arted awake, my skin soaked with sour sweat, my body still shaking. I uttered not a sound, I moved not an inch. For a long time I lay like that, as I had lain after nightmares since I was five years old, waiting for the dream to dissolve. Waiting to stop being the worm.
The scratching at the door drew me from the last of my terror and brought reality back with the clear relieving tinkling of a fountain and the distant hum of the city’s marketplace coming to life. I was not in the Breeders’ compound, I was in Palmyra with Accalia. I wasn’t five years old, I was a man. No one would gut Accalia if I moved. It was only a dream.
I went to the door. As I cracked it open, I saw daylight. Morning had come at last.
“I have come to direct you to the dining room,” the middle-aged daughter called Elenia said.
“A moment, please.” I told her, closing the door again.
My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light outside in that short space of time, so I could see well enough to make out the bed. I reached down and found Accalia’s shoulder.
Shaking it, I spoke softly. “Accalia. Wake up. It’s morning.”
She moaned and sat up painfully.
“Oh... I ache!” she got out, before dropping her feet over the side of the bed and beginning to lever herself up into a standing position.
I swept her up into my arms before she could put weight on her bandaged feet. She gave in immediately and settled her sleepy head on my shoulder. Had she been fully awake she wouldn’t have given in to that urge. Not after the way I’d left things last night.
How could she think I didn’t love her as much as any of the others did? Maybe more. If that was even possible. But love wasn’t enough. It never had been. Hadn’t I learned that well enough as a child? Love only hurt you. It was better not to let yourself feel strongly for anyone. Because someone would use them against you.
I opened the door and strode from the room. We both looked sleep-tousled. Maybe we should tidy ourselves up before we went to break our fast.