by Monica Burns
“All right,” she said with a smile. Then with a light kiss, she was gone.
He stood there for a moment contemplating how he’d just sealed his fate where she was
concerned. There was no going back now. With a growl of disgust, he wheeled about and forced himself to focus his attention on the task at hand. The sooner they found the Tyet of Isis, the sooner they could go back to Chicago. After a quick call to Marco, he finished dressing and headed downstairs to the library. It was a favorite haunt of Atia’s no matter which facility, and he fully expected her to be holding court with Emma and Ares in the room.
But she wasn’t anywhere in sight when he entered the small study. The sight of Ares and Emma bent over a book on the library table filled him with pleasure. He was delighted that his friend had found Emma. Ares had blamed himself for the death of a loved one long enough. It was time he found some happiness in his life. And from the look on his friend’s face, it was obvious he was happy. He cleared his throat to quietly announce his arrival, and the two of them immediately looked up from the book they were studying.
Broad smiles on their faces, they hurried forward to greet him. He grasped Ares’s forearm with his hand in the manner the Sicari had greeted one another since the days of the Roman Empire. As he turned to greet Emma, he stiffened when she moved forward to hug him enthusiastically, but the tension in his body gave way as he hugged her back. In the short time they’d known each other, she’d become a friend. Ares had chosen well. Emma was no longer an alieni, she was Sicari. He stepped back and looked at Ares.
“I expected to see Atia in here,” he said with a frown of puzzlement. “Did someone let her know you’d arrived?”
“Your Primus Pilus is looking for her now, but Ignacio is gone, too. Campanella can’t reach him on the cell phone, but that could just mean they’re not in the car.” Ares shrugged slightly, his manner indicating he wasn’t unduly concerned as yet. “She probably wanted to see the sunrise from some spot over the city. You know how she likes to do that at the White Cloud estate.”
“Il Christi omnipotentia,” he exclaimed harshly. “This isn’t the Michigan estate. It’s Rome. She can’t just ignore the fact that there’s a Praetorian Dominus in the city.”
“What?” Ares’s sharp, one-word question emphasized his sudden change of mood.
“A Praetorian Dominus?” Emma’s face revealed her confusion.
“The Praetorian equivalent of a Sicari Lord,” Ares said in a grim voice. He didn’t look away from Lysander as he reached for his wife’s hand in a silent gesture of reassurance. “What makes you think there’s a Praetorian Dominus in Rome.”
“Because I fought one last night,” Lysander said grimly. “The bastard would have killed me if I’d not had help.”
“How?”
At Ares’s query, he shook his head.
“A Sicari Lord saved him,” Atia declared from the library doorway.
The three of them jerked around to see the Prima Consul entering the room with a pinched expression on her face. Atia’s arrival had saved him from lying to his friend about the Sicari Lord, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected her to know a Sicari Lord had saved him. On the heels of that thought was the realization that Atia always knew everything.
That had always amazed him about her. But this was the first time he’d ever thought of her as anything less than indomitable. He frowned. She looked exhausted—drained—like she’d been in a vehemently contentious policy discussion with an angry group of senators. He’d never seen her look so unnerved before. Worse, there was a look in her eyes that signaled fear.
Even from the first day he’d come to live with her, he’d never seen her afraid of anything. Despite his irritation at the way she manipulated people and situations, he still cared about her, and seeing her like this worried him. He took a step toward her, but she waved him away in a silent command not to question her.
“The presence of the Praetorian Dominus simply makes our task harder, but not impossible.” The firm note of strength in Atia’s voice lessened the air of uneasiness about her. “I’ve already alerted those in charge of our headquarters in Genova and the Council as well.”
“How do you know the individual who intervened was a Sicari Lord?” Ares asked as he stared intently at the Prima Consul.
“Because the man who sent a message with Lysander last night is a Sicari Lord I’ve known for more than thirty years.” There was a slight crack in her voice that said this man was closer to her than she was admitting.
“And all this time you didn’t bother to tell anyone that he existed?” This time Ares’s voice was a sharp condemnation.
“It’s for their protection as well as ours,” she snapped. “Sicari Lords aren’t invincible. Their abilities are simply stronger than ours and take longer to fade, but if outnumbered, they can die just like any of us. They’ve been betrayed in the past, and their existence is known only to a few.”
“Their? You said their,” Ares snapped. “Are you saying there’s more than just one?”
“Yes.”
While his friend was clearly stunned, Atia’s response didn’t surprise Lysander. The fact
that the Sicari Lord who’d come to his rescue hadn’t been alone had made him wonder if those with him had the same skills. It made sense. He glanced at Ares before returning his attention to the Prima Consul. With a gesture that signaled regret, Atia’s hand brushed across her chin as she released a quiet sigh.
“I’m breaking every rule there is by telling any of you this, but you know how fond I am of breaking rules.” She glanced in his direction before returning her gaze to Ares. “Lysander already knew of the Sicari Lord’s existence because of his encounter with the Praetorian Dominus. And now I’m entrusting you and Emma with this secret.”
Both Ares and Emma nodded their silent agreement not to betray the Prima Consul’s trust. Then Ares asked the question Lysander had been wanting to ask since last night.
“Can we expect their help if we have need of it?”
“I can’t say. The Prima Consul is at the beck and call of the reigning Sicari Lord. He sends for me when he wants, but my ability to contact him is extremely limited.”
Atia’s resignation indicated she was holding nothing back. While he wouldn’t refuse help from the Sicari Lord, Lysander wasn’t going to count on his assistance, either. The Praetorian Dominus had definitely shifted the balance, making their mission all the more dangerous. The thought of losing another Sicari on his watch twisted his stomach into knots. No. He refused to lose anyone on his team, even if he had to take a sword instead of them. His gaze moved from Atia to Ares.
“Then we’ll operate under the assumption that we’re on our own as far as this Praetorian Dominus is concerned,” he said quietly. “Instead of two to a team, we only go out in groups of three or more.”
“Agreed,” Ares said with a nod. “Where do you want to start next?”
The question was his friend’s way of saying he had no intention of trying to lead this mission. He appreciated the gesture of support. For the first time since Atia had made him Legatus, he realized he wanted to succeed at this assignment.
“I’ve asked Marco to assemble everyone in the conference room on the hour. We need to take a look at what ground we’ve covered so far. It’ll help bring you and Emma up to speed on our progress, and I want to know what the two of you found in France.”
“Well, that sounds like a plan to me.” Emma smiled at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me where I can find my sister-in-law?”
The question sent heat flushing up his neck as Ares folded his arms and sent him an inquisitive look that said Cleo had been talking. Christus, he was going to throttle the woman. Beside him, Atia cleared her throat. He turned his head in her direction and was relieved to see her composure had returned.
“I believe Phaedra is in the kitchen performing the Curavi. One of the Vigilavi cut her hand.”
>
Emma nodded, and after getting directions to the kitchen, she left the library. A slight smile on her face, the Prima Consul arched an eyebrow at Ares.
“Marriage suits you.”
“I agree,” Ares said with a nod of his head.
The cryptic answer was more of a habit when it came to answering Atia. They both knew it was better to say little than too much. The Prima Consul had a memory like a steel trap, and she would often pull something out of thin air to either drill home a point or to gently mock someone.
“And her ability?” This time the question was a command.
“Her technique still needs refinement, but she’s becoming quite adept.” Ares’s expression was one of pride in his wife’s achievements.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Atia replied. “Now then, I’m sure you want to see your sister, and I have a couple of items I wish to review with Lysander. Please close the door on your way out.”
It was a dismissal, and he was just as startled by her crisp words as Ares. He sent her a quick glance and saw the distraught mood she’d displayed earlier had returned. With a slight bow in her direction, Ares headed for the door. As he passed by, Ares arched his eyebrows and bobbed his head in Atia’s direction. Lysander could only offer up a small shrug in response. Whatever was bothering the woman, he was certain she was about to share it with him.
He was even more certain he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. As the library door closed with a soft thud, he turned toward Atia and waited. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she crossed the floor to stand at the window overlooking the interior courtyard of the Sicari satellite facility. She didn’t speak for several minutes, and he found the silence uncomfortable. What the hell had he done that was so terrible she couldn’t speak?
“I need your help, Lysander.” Desperation filled her quiet words, and he recognized the all-too-familiar emotion. This wasn’t about him after all. At least he didn’t think it was.
“You know my sword is always yours to command.”
“Of that I had no doubt. You and Ares have always been loyal, and I am deeply grateful.” Atia didn’t look at him. “But it’s not your sword I have need of. It’s your ability to counsel Cleo that I need.”
“Cleo?” He frowned and shook his head in puzzlement. “What’s wrong with Cleo?”
“At the moment, nothing. But there’s something I have to tell her, and she’s going to need to talk to someone. I want that person to be you.” Desperation and pain echoed in Atia’s words as she continued to look out the window. “The two of you are as close as naturalborn siblings. She respects your opinion, and it’s why you’re the only one I can turn to.”
“What makes you think Cleo isn’t going to want to talk to you?”
“Because I’ve lied to her.”
He drew in a sharp breath. Cleo had her idiosyncrasies, but the one thing she couldn’t tolerate was when someone lied to her. It infuriated her, and true to her Italian roots, she stubbornly refused to even acknowledge the person’s existence afterward. In only one or two rare cases had he ever seen her relent. She’d rather someone confess their sins up front than lie about it. Maybe Atia’s lie was fairly harmless, but from the look on her face, he knew otherwise.
“What did you lie to her about?”
“Her father.”
“I thought her father was dead.” Puzzled, he frowned at her.
“No, I simply let her and everyone else believe that,” Atia whispered as she turned to face him. “Her father is very much alive and well.”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. Cleo’s father was alive? Why would Atia hide something like that from her daughter?
“Why did you keep it a secret?” he asked.
“Because I was trying to protect her. Marcus and I were no longer together by the time I learned I was pregnant with Cleo. I’d already lost one … I knew that if anyone found out she was Marcus’s daughter she’d be in danger.”
“Are we talking about the same Marcus the Sicari Lord was referring to last night?”
“The Sicari Lord you met last night was Marcus.”
He stiffened as he met Atia’s anguished look. What the hell was she saying? That Cleo was the daughter of a Sicari Lord? Merda, Cleo was an exceptional fighter, but his friend’s abilities were pretty much nonexistent. On occasion, she could sense danger, but even that talent was random and sporadic at best.
“But Cleo doesn’t have the abilities of a Sicari Lord.”
“Not every child does. It’s like most genetic traits. Sometimes a child might look like their parents and other times they don’t. Cleo never exhibited any sign of special abilities like her father or her … but she’s very much like him in other ways.”
The slight stumble in her response made him study her carefully, but she averted her gaze. She wasn’t telling him everything, but he didn’t have the right to press her for anything more than she was willing to share.
“So after all these years, why tell her the truth now?”
“Because he wants to see her.”
“Are you telling me that after all this time he’s suddenly taken an interest in her?” he snapped.
Sicari Lord or not, the bastardo didn’t have the right to just waltz back into Cleo’s life like this, expecting her to welcome him back with open arms. The Vigilavi he knew on the Chicago police force had harsh words for deadbeat dads, and he was certain they’d have a few choice words for Marcus, Sicari Lord or not. Atia pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes as if she were in pain.
“He didn’t even know about her until this morning,” she whispered.
Guilt and remorse riddled her response. For whatever reason, she’d chosen not to tell the man about Cleo, but he could tell she was paying a heavy price for it now. He reached up to rub the back of his neck. This was one hell of a mess, and his friend was going to have her mother’s head for it.
Merda, this was something Cleo might never forgive her mother for. His gaze met Atia’s, and he realized she was thinking the same thing. A soft noise broke from her as she turned away from him. Christus, what was he supposed to do now? He sure as hell couldn’t reassure her that everything was going to be all right.
“Do you want me to be there when you tell her?”
“No. I have to do this myself. But thank you.” Atia straightened her spine and dragged in a deep breath but didn’t turn around. “Go. I believe you have a briefing in a few minutes.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
He didn’t like seeing her like this. There was an aura of defeat about her that reminded him that she wasn’t just Prima Consul, she was a woman who had limits, just like everyone else.
“Go, Lysander. I’ll be fine.” The command was unmistakable, but he heard the quiver in her voice. She was in pain, and he didn’t know how to help her. “Now.”
Without another word, he left her alone.
Chapter 17
GABRIEL Russo stared at the marble chess set in front of him. He was losing. The fact pissed him off so much he wanted to kill the next person who entered the room. Glaring at the board, he carefully studied the pieces left.
“I believe it’s your move, Gabriel.”
He looked up at the man sitting across from him as Nicostratus’s voice rose upward to echo quietly against the cathedral ceiling. The library was one of his adoptive father’s favorite rooms. He wasn’t sure if it was the enormous room’s intimidating effect on anyone who entered or if Nicostratus simply enjoyed the intricately carved mahogany woodwork that lined the walls and bookshelves in the room.
Carvings that even by his measure of hate for the Sicari seemed a bit extreme. During childhood, this room had always made him uneasy with its frightening depictions of heretics being tortured for their sins. Nicostratus was watching him with his usual detached amusement that irritated him a lot more than he cared to admit. A thin veneer of contempt had always lain beneath his father’
s affection for him. If one could call it affection. It had always made him feel he was unworthy of the name Russo.