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The Raven's Wing

Page 23

by Frances Watts


  One thing that hadn’t changed was the bench under the willow tree, and it was here that I ended up, behind the curtain of green. Sitting sideways on the bench I lifted my legs up to hug my knees to my chest. Had I made a mistake in returning to Rome? Back in Arretium I’d thought I could bear anything if only I was with Marcus, but he was so courteous and distant that even when he was in the room it was as if he wasn’t really present. It made me want to anger him, just so he’d glare at me like he used to.

  There was a rustle of leaves and I looked up as the curtain of green parted to admit my fiancé, holding a lamp that threw shadows across his face.

  ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said.

  I lifted one shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Why are you so quiet?’ he demanded.

  I stared at him. Why was I so quiet? He had barely spoken one word to me since we had arrived in Rome!

  He rubbed at his forehead as if he had a pain. ‘Won’t you argue with me at least?’ he continued. ‘Is the idea of marriage to me so distasteful — is that it? Fine, we’ll cancel the engagement.’

  ‘No!’ I said. Then, worried that I had given myself away, ‘Father would never allow it.’

  ‘Your father? What does he have to do with this?’

  ‘He’s the one who wishes us to marry — you said so in Arretium.’ But even as I said the words I realised that of course it would be Prisca behind the marriage, still trying gamely to advance her son’s interests. ‘Your mother then.’

  ‘My mother? You’ve seen her. She’s a shadow of what she was.’

  ‘Then who?’ I said, frustrated.

  ‘That’s better, now you’re coming to life.’

  ‘Oh. You’re impossible.’ I turned away.

  He set the lamp on the bench and grabbed my wrist. ‘By the gods, will you not be happy till I have abased myself completely? Very well: it was me, my doing. I have arranged this marriage.’

  I spun around to face him. ‘To advance your career, I presume.’

  ‘Not that. I make my own way. Haven’t you learned this about me?’

  He was right. As much as Prisca had tried to help him, he had always refused.

  I was struggling to understand. ‘If not for your career, then why?’

  On his face was a strange blend of tenderness and exasperation. ‘You idiot. Because I love you, of course.’

  ‘Don’t call me an — What did you say?’ I sat up straight, every sense alert.

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘I — I’m not sure I did.’

  His gaze softened, his voice deepened. ‘I love you, Claudia.’

  I felt like a candle, flaming and melting. ‘You do not.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘I take back what I said about arguing — please stop!’ He let go of my wrist. ‘I was wrong to try to make you marry me against your will. I release you from the obligation.’ He turned as if to walk away and I felt a rush of panic.

  ‘And what if I don’t want to be released?’ I said to his back.

  He went very still, then turned back to face me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean … I mean I love you too.’ I stood up and walked to stand in front of him.

  For a long moment we just stared at each other in wonder, then Marcus cupped my face in his hands and slowly, slowly, lowered his head to kiss me.

  For a long, glorious moment I savoured the press of his lips on mine, then put my hands on his chest and pulled back.

  ‘Wait.’

  Marcus looked alarmed. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’

  I smiled. ‘No, I just want to ask some questions first.’

  ‘If I give the wrong answer, will you change your mind?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Okay, what’s the first question?’ he asked, adding in a mutter, ‘And I thought I was the lawyer.’

  ‘When did you first love me?’

  He took one of my hands in his and lifted it to his lips to graze my knuckles. ‘Perhaps it was when you rose from the fishpond looking like a Gorgon.’

  ‘Be serious,’ I warned him, snatching my hand back.

  ‘Seriously? I think it was when you leaped to your father’s defence the next night at dinner. I was intrigued when I first saw you — do you remember that? You were in the carriage on the way to my villa and I was determined not to meet you. When we did finally meet I thought you were beautiful … before you fell in the fishpond; not so much after. But it was when you argued with me at dinner that I was really interested. I could see you weren’t just some timid creature who would be easily moulded into the perfect Roman matron. Aurelia said we’d be perfect together. That I needed a woman who would challenge me. You have a mind of your own and you’re not afraid to use it.’

  ‘You love me because I argue with you? I thought you wanted to be lord and master of your house — that’s what you said in Veii.’

  ‘I was wrong about that. I was wrong about anything you care to name. Don’t you love me even more for being able to admit when I am wrong?’ He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching mischievously.

  ‘It’s not your turn to ask questions,’ I said sternly. ‘Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you hated me. You were always so cold and angry.’

  ‘At first because I refused to be pushed into marriage by Mother and then … I thought you were in love with Lucius,’ he said simply. He reached for my hand again.

  ‘Only one more question,’ I promised, moving my hand away. ‘When did you know you would marry me?’

  ‘That’s easy. It was when I untied the Hercules knot.’ He touched the belt knotted about my waist. ‘I knew at that moment we would be together. Didn’t you?’

  ‘I hoped we would be,’ I admitted.

  ‘Have you finished with the questions now?’

  ‘For the moment.’

  ‘Good. I have something for you. Hold out your hand.’

  I put my hand out.

  ‘Not that way.’ Taking my fingers, he turned my hand so that the palm was facing down. And then he slid an iron ring onto my finger. In the centre of the band was a carnelian, the deep red-orange of the setting sun.

  ‘Can you see the engraving?’ He reached for the lamp and held it up.

  I lifted my hand so I could study the ring in its light and saw that two birds were etched delicately into the stone.

  ‘Oh. It’s a pair of birds.’

  ‘You remember what this means?’

  ‘I do,’ I whispered.

  Marcus bent his head till his forehead was touching mine. ‘It means we stay together forever.’

  When I opened my mouth to speak he warned, ‘Don’t argue with me.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to,’ I said.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I was going to ask you to kiss me again.’

  And he did.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to everyone at ABC Books and HarperCollins, especially Chren Byng, Cristina Cappelluto, Jacqui Barton, Kate Burnitt, Kate O’Donnell and Hazel Lam.

  Thank you to Barbara Mobbs, and to Christa Munns and Claire Craig.

  And thank you always, for everything, to David Francis.

  About the author

  Frances Watts was born in Switzerland and grew up in Australia. She has published twenty books for children, including picture books and books for younger readers such as Goodnight, Mice!, the winner of the 2012 Prime Minister’s Award for Children’s Fiction, and 2008 Children’s Book Council of Australia award-winner Parsley Rabbit’s Book about Books. The Raven’s Wing is her first novel for young adults. Frances lives in Sydney and divides her time between writing and editing.

  Copyright

  The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the

  Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used

  under licence by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia.

  First published in Australia in 2014
r />   This edition published in 2014

  by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited

  ABN 36 009 913 517

  www.harpercollins.com.au

  Copyright © Frances Watts 2014

  The right of Frances Watts to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  HarperCollinsPublishers

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  195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007, USA

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

  Watts, Frances, author.

  The raven’s wing / Frances Watts.

  ISBN: 978 0 7333 3291 3 (pbk)

  ISBN: 978 1 4607 0175 1 (epub)

  For ages 10-14.

  Historical fiction.

  A823.4

  Cover design by Hazel Lam, HarperCollins Design Studio

  Cover images: Girl by Dimitri Otis/Getty Images; all other images by shutterstock.com

 

 

 


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