Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
That afternoon, Brisca’s kinsman Black Nathan arrived with his entourage—over fifty strong. Alaric leaned on his spear, watching from the high portico of Brisca’s great hall as a sacrifice was made in their honor. The pure white cow lay on its side with its throat weeping blood, her legs spasming as the priestess thrust her hands elbow-deep in the animal’s belly.
Below, Black Nathan stood with his bodyguards. King and warrior, chieftain and thrall, listening with all their might for the gods to speak through the bloody viscera.
Alaric was well aware of the knife edge he balanced on. Three unfavorable winters had hollowed out his alliances in these passes and an unlucky reading could undo everything he’d worked for. Even now, he could feel the nervous edge to the crowd’s stillness. Alaric could see clearly his own vulnerability, his own army on the other side of the mountain and more than halfway to rebelling. No time was riper for a challenge. His gaze drifted to Julia, standing across the yard. The twins flanked her, their hands resting lazily on their weapons as if only a casual gesture, surrounded by the friends they’d been assiduously making in this village. He hoped they wouldn’t need them.
Somewhere in the sky, an eagle screamed—magnifying the omen—just as the priestess stood with her arms crimson to the shoulder, the heavy liver draped across her hands.
“The readings are unclear. The gods have chosen not to speak.”
* * *
In the face of unclear omens, gold could be its own benediction. And Julia’s gold was a powerful one.
Alaric called for the exchange of gifts, watching as the chieftains held strands of priceless jewels to the light, their expressions baldly admiring. His allies expected certain things of him—prowess in battle, the gifts of charm and persuasion. And wealth, as much as he could wrest from his enemies. Alaric had brought his people gifts before; he’d laid cities at their feet for the sacking. But the princess’s jewels were on another level entirely.
Black Nathan was barrel-chested with a bristling black beard that gave him his name, and a wily, battle-scarred look to him. He whistled through his teeth as he held up a string of carnelian beads. “You must be a wizard,” he muttered. “I’d love to know how you made the Romans part with this.”
“I have my ways.”
Black Nathan slid one of Julia’s rings onto his finger. It had a ruby that gleamed like a clot of blood. The chieftain held out a battle-scarred hand to admire it, exacting as a noble lady. “You are well met, King Alaric. Even though you come with war trailing behind and no good fortune from the gods to fill your sails.”
“If I only made war when the auguries were good, Nathan, I would never leave home.”
“You are a dangerous enemy to have, Alaric. But so are the Romans.”
One of Nathan’s men approached the high seat with a bundle in his arms, wrapped in a fortune of foreign silk. He spread it at the foot of the stairs with some ceremony. Inside was a brace of hatchets, finely wrought in ash and gold. Nathan’s gift. The young man handed him one and Alaric made a show of testing its weight. Wholly impractical for battle, but sharp enough to part a floating hair.
It was the kind of gift he had to watch, lest he find it buried in his back.
* * *
That night, the fires were lit in the great hall and everyone gathered under its roof. A blaze roared in a hearth large enough to stand a horse in. Men and women strolled about, armed to the teeth, drinking from large, foaming tankards; barefoot children rolled in the straw with hunting dogs the size of small ponies.
Julia dove into the party like a fish into water. Parties were her natural element.
From one direction came a drinking horn, foam spilling thick over the rim. From another came the roasted leg of some animal, skin still sizzling. Music pulsed in the air, and she danced until she went careening out of the circle, straight into a man with the build of an oak tree. He turned, scowling; bright gold hair glowing from the firelight like a dragon’s hoard, eyes gray as an axe blade; tattoos writhing across his chest. Julia took a step back.
It was Thorismund. Was he—swaying from the drink?
“Julia. I just lost my sword, my horse, and my shield at
latrones . The only other thing I have to bet is myself.” His scowl deepened, as if it pained him to ask. “Help.”
He had to be very drunk to be overtly asking, and in front of a crowd too. Julia methodically won back Thorismund’s belongings, relishing the shocked, appraising looks from the grizzled old warriors.
The twins were never far from her side. They needled and ribbed her as she played latrones , pulled her into dances, and pressed drinks into her hands. She was aware that Alaric had sent them to watch her like nursemaids. It made her grit her teeth in annoyance. But it wasn’t the only thing to be annoyed with him about. Julia spotted Black Nathan casually looping a pearl necklace around his wrist and held back a curse. Surely Alaric could buy far more than the allegiance of one petty chieftain with that.
It didn’t matter. She would get what she wanted at this party. She would make allies, discover more about Alaric’s relationship with Brisca—and flirt with everyone in sight, right under Alaric’s nose. Even though he seemed not to notice or care.
And that was infuriating, because she hadn’t been able to stop noticing him . He was sitting at a high table, dressed in a richly embroidered crimson tunic, thick golden torques at his biceps and throat. He radiated a relaxed charisma that was a powerful force in itself, putting everyone at ease and laughing. Julia was drawn to him like a flower leaning toward sunlight.
All night she’d watched him flirt outrageously with every woman who came within his orbit. He occupied the ornate chair next to Brisca’s—the higher one, the chieftain’s chair, which surely wasn’t his—as she leaned over to whisper in his ear, one hand resting proprietarily on his thigh.
Julia rolled her eyes in disgust. What a disgraceful hussy he was.
Across the room, music picked up again—a tune like a brook skipping over stones. And there was Berig, his dark hair curling at his shoulders. “Julia.” His smile was warm; inviting. “Will you dance?”
“Please.” Julia stood, shaking out her hair. She threaded her arm through Berig’s and let him lead her toward the music.
* * *
Alaric sucked in a breath as across the hall, Julia rose from her bench, giving her hair a hard shake that sent it shivering down to her hips. He bit back a curse.
All night he’d given her a wide berth. She’d made her choice, and it hadn’t been him.
“If we aid you, we will need an infusion of men from your army. A hundred should do it.” Nathan scratched his cheek through his thick black beard.
“And a hundred barrels of grain to see them through the winter,” Brisca added. Her method of persuasion appeared to be teaming up with Nathan to fleece him for all they could. He was hardly in a position to refuse.
Alaric shrugged casually. “You have merely to ask for what you need.” Never mind that his own were barely able to scavenge a meager dinner. Across the hall, Julia was dancing with Black Nathan’s son now—the pretty one, golden-bearded; his name in the high mountain tongue translated to handsome .
Alaric’s hand tightened on his drinking horn. Hard enough to bend metal.
Black Nathan followed his gaze. “Seems she likes them prettier than the likes of you or I, Alaric.” There was a goading edge to his grin. “Let my son have her. She seems partial to him. You get a nice safe place to keep her hidden, and I get a good-looking grandbaby to bounce on my knee. Everyone wins, eh?”
“Did I just hear talk of giving women away like chattel, under my roof?” Brisca’s nails dug into Alaric’s thigh. “Julia may be Alaric’s prisoner, but in this, she is free to choose.”
“Who says she wouldn’t choose my son? Most women do.”
Alaric leaned back in his chair. “I have a better idea. Send your boy to me in Noricum. I’ll give him a privileged position at the front of my army.”
Black Nathan went slightly pale. “You do him too much honor, Alaric.”
“Nonsense. Give him the chance to bring glory to your family. Bards will sing his name.” Alaric’s gaze shifted to the crowd, looking for the bright beacon of Julia’s hair.
Julia was gone. So was Berig.
* * *
“What is it you need to tell me in private?” Julia halted in the shadows beyond the torchlight, just outside the great hall. “Hurry. If Alaric finds me gone—”
“I heard word from my friend outside the walls,” Berig said, pulling her deeper into the shadows. “He can get you over the mountains. But we must go now.”
Julia stared. She had not been expecting this. “I need time to think.”
“Brisca’s husband was my uncle. When Alaric killed him, he robbed me of my place next in line as chieftain. Since then, I’ve had to serve Brisca with a smile on my face, though she aligned herself with Alaric. My uncle’s killer.” Berig’s hands rose to her cheeks. “Since the moment I saw you, Julia, I knew you were like me. Imprisoned. Let us escape together . Surely you would not prefer that brute.”
Then, without warning, he lowered his mouth to hers. Julia stiffened. She felt the same nothing she’d felt with Cornelius.
That is better. It makes everything so much easier.
A pair of ice-blue eyes rose to her thoughts.
She pulled away as if burned. “Berig, if you think I am running off into the mountains with you, you are daft . Alaric will find you and make you eat your own liver.”
“I know these mountains. I can protect you.”
“Stop being a nitwit and let go of me.” He didn’t. “Berig, please let go.”
“You had better listen to her, Berig.”
Alaric stood just paces away, the light from the torches casting his face in shadow. His voice was quiet, but the threat beneath was clear. She felt it all the way down her spine.
“She doesn’t want you.” Berig turned to face him. “You’re the villain, Alaric.”
“Maybe so,” Alaric said quietly. “But she told you to back off. So do it.”
It was the same tone of voice he’d used just before he’d cut Origenes’s throat. Julia saw the murderous glint in Alaric’s eyes, the casual way his stance shifted, and his hand moved to the hilt of his knife. Cornelius in the dust was all she could see.
“You are so stupid ,” she hissed at Berig. “If I have to look at your insides tonight, I’ll never forgive you. Now get out of here. Go. ”
“If you wish it, Julia. But do not forget my offer.” Berig gave her one last lingering glance before disappearing back into the longhouse.
And now she was alone with Alaric, his presence raising every hair on the nape of her neck. “As for you ,” she said, “I’m hoping if I ignore you, you’ll go away.”
“Fucking hell, woman. Running off into the night with
Brisca’s half-wit kinsman with a ransom on your head—”
“As if you care,” Julia hissed. She thought of Brisca in his guesthouse. The glorious night they must have spent. “I’m nothing but a momentary diversion to you, am I not?”
He touched her gently, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Is that what you think?”
His voice was whisper soft; for once there was not a trace of mockery. Julia was humiliated to find tears springing to her eyes. “Please go away.”
“Not yet. There are things that must be understood between us.” The quiet tenderness in his voice was salt in her wound. “Will you allow me a chance to explain?”
Julia was sullenly quiet.
“I’ve been working to gain Brisca’s support in persuading the chieftains to hold these passes against the war I bring to their doorstep,” Alaric said. “The war they believe I’m starting for trivial reasons—”
“ Trivial reasons? You mean me, don’t you?” She bristled. “You think I’m trivial!”
For a moment he was absolutely silent. Then—it was dark but Julia could have sworn he blushed . “I’ve made no secret of how I feel about you, Julia.”
“How you feel about me ?” A raw, incredulous laugh ripped from her throat. “Let me tell you what I know about your feelings ! You treat me with contempt, mock me at every turn, and then command me to your bed like a thrall. You came to me warm from another woman’s bed to demand I be your concubine . And you’ll send me back to my brother as soon as you tire of me, will you not? I’m too valuable a pawn to waste.”
“I already told you. I will not send you back to your brother.”
What a lie. Tears were already rising behind her shut lids and she hated herself for them.
“Look at me, Julia.”
No. Oh no. Julia dropped her gaze to the fabric of his shirt, tight across the spectacular architecture of his chest. Tears burned her cheeks.
Alaric cursed under his breath and tilted her head up until her eyes met his. “You stubborn, impossible woman,” he muttered. “Whether you’ll have me or no, I will not send you back to your brother. Not for ransom and not for a homeland. And if Stilicho wants a war, I will give him one.” His thumb skated over her cheekbone, brushing away tears; sending off sparks beneath her skin. “You are worth a war.”
Julia let out a shaky breath. She felt a sudden rush of feelings she couldn’t name, a river that left her drowned. Trembling.
He’s been in Brisca’s bed the last few days. He thinks he can cast pretty words at my feet and have what he wants of me. “And so that is my fate, then?” she asked acidly. “To stay with you and become your concubine?”
A charged silence. “Would that be so terrible?”
“I am a princess of Rome , Alaric. Forgive me if I do not leap to become one of your many women .”
Alaric drew back, torchlight grazing his face. “What makes you think there are many?”
“I have eyes, Alaric. I saw the way Ehre looked at you today. And then Brisca—”
He leaned in again, bracing a forearm over her head, blue eyes pinning her still. “I have shared my bed with no one since I came here. Brisca came and I sent her away.” His thumb grazed her cheek and every inch of her shot to attention. “Was she the reason you didn’t come?”
As if I would have come to you. The words sat scathing on her tongue. But she couldn’t give them voice. Not while he was looking at her like that, his eyes burning terrible fire. Refusing to let her hide.
“I saw her go to your guesthouse,” she said bitterly. “I certainly didn’t care . The two of you can do what you like. But what was I supposed to think?”
A bold, self-assured grin flashed across his face. “You’re jealous.”
“Don’t be preposterous.” But she was blushing, her burning face making a bonfire of all her secrets, and Julia wished she would fall over dead and end the humiliation.
But he didn’t mock her. Instead his lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. “I already told you, Julia. The one I want is you.”
Julia raised her eyes to his, and the heat she saw—the raw vulnerability—stole her breath like a fire stealing air.
She couldn’t help herself. She threaded her fingers into his hair as he pulled her into his arms, the strength of him rising up all around her like a tide, as his kiss scorched her to ash. Julia clenched her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, frantic to pull him closer, wanting it to hurt . He only laughed, low and savage in her ear, as he fisted a hand in her hair in return, dragging her head back to get at her neck.
“You are mine.” He spoke in a husky growl, his lips grazing her skin. “You came to me and you made your choice.” Starbursts went off behind her shut lids as he pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. “Don’t even think to run to another. I’ll gut any man who looks at you.”
Then he took her mouth again, and the world went black at the edges. Julia kissed him back wildly, clawing at his shirt. Needing to feel him bare. She felt his hands slide beneath her thighs and lift her, setting her back to the door, her legs locking around him as her skirt rode up past her knees. She’d been wrong about him. Wrong about everything. Nothing mattered in the world but this.
A sound split the air, cutting through the sounds of revelry and burning fires and music.
A Roman cornu .