Epilogue
Caesar was in labor.
Seb leaned against the wall in the hall, listening to the increasingly pain-filled sounds coming from inside the delivery room.
Maybe a joke would help.
He stuck his head in, eyes closed so he wouldn’t see anything that would scar him for life.
“Ave Caesar, morituri te sal—”
“You are about to die, Sebastian,” Seb’s best friend snarled, using his full first name. Her words dissolved into a tight scream that escaped between her teeth.
A hand yanked him into the room.
“You piss her off, you get to be in here,” Devon whispered, his normally cold demeanor gone. He looked frazzled—hair standing on end, shirt misbuttoned, the corners of his eyes tight with worry.
He looked exactly like what he was—a loving husband and soon-to-be father who felt helpless in the face of his wife’s pain.
Franco, on the other hand, was handling it like a champ. He was on the bed behind Juliette, supporting her as she knelt with her forearms braced on a bar mounted at the foot of the bed.
“Back labor,” Franco said sagely as he savagely ground the heels of his hands into Juliette’s lower back. It looked like he was trying to dislocate her spine.
Based on the sigh of relief she let out, a broken spine was apparently exactly what she wanted.
Juliette lifted her head. Her messy bun was listing to one side, her face flushed, eyes bright.
“Call me Caesar one more time.” She bared her teeth. “I dare you.”
The door opened, heels clicking as a newcomer joined them.
As Juliette’s best friend, it was Seb’s job to help keep her spirits up…by giving her somewhere to direct that labor-pain induced rage.
“Ave Caesar,” Sebatian said cheerfully, “morituri te sal—”
Juliette jabbed her thumb down and snarled.
“The thumb symbol isn’t accurate,” Sophia said, her Italian accent making each word lush. “It’s better to say iugula.”
“Iugula,” Juliette repeated, panting softly. “What does it mean?”
“Cut his throat.”
“I like it.” Juliette grinned, eyes glittering with a dark savagery that was exactly why she was Caesar. “Devon, next time Seb says something stupid, cut his throat.”
“Thanks for that,” Sebastian muttered to Sophia.
“You’re welcome, Consul.”
It had been four months since the Masters’ Admiralty had been thrown into chaos—the fleet admiral and admiral of Hungary dead, their ancient headquarters lost to the sea.
Something that had been quietly discussed, a mere idea born of Colum’s and Franco’s nerd-fueled enthusiasm for ancient Rome, had been forced to become reality before anyone was really ready for it.
The Trinity Masters and Masters’ Admiralty were no longer two separate societies. They’d merged. One society with two distinct rulers.
It was an idea rooted in Ancient Rome—as many ideas were.
When Rome was a republic, before the empire, it was led by two consuls. In times of war or upheaval, a third leader was appointed by the consuls and given sweeping power—that of a dictator—until the crisis passed.
Under the new, united society, what had been the Masters’ Admiralty was now just Europe and led by a consul—Sophia. Seb was the consul for America. Each consul’s job was slightly different as they absorbed and modified the duties of the fleet admiral and Grand Master respectively.
The post of consul was Juliette’s by right and everyone’s preference, but for now, Seb held the title.
Because Juliette was needed as Caesar.
They’d decided, much to Franco’s and Colum’s delight, to borrow the title for the role of dictator from the most famous man to hold the position.
It was even more fitting because Julius Caesar had declared himself dictator for life.
So too the role of Caesar would last a lifetime—or until the person holding it was too old to carry out their duties.
But Caesar would take power only in times of unrest. Which, knowing how the secret societies operated, might be all the time.
Caesar would be their “shield of Rome” like Quintus Fabius Maximus.
Seb might have that name wrong. He’d zoned out several times during Franco and Colum’s explanation as to the duties and rights of their new Caesar.
Juliette Caesar had agreed to wear the metaphorical laurel wreath until Europe’s permanent consul, and the society’s permanent Caesar were in place.
Or until she gave birth. Future Caesars wouldn’t have the option to step down, but Juliette had no intention of being their sword and shield. She was going on maternity leave.
Based on the sounds she was currently making, giving birth, and the start of her maternity leave, were imminent. They were only minutes away from Juliette abdicating, whether the rest of them were ready or not.
Juliette groaned through another contraction, her hair sticking to her face. She was going to be an amazing mother. Seb was going to be an even better uncle.
Juliette looked up, eyes bright with rage, pain, or both. “It’s time,” she panted.
Everyone in the room stiffened. They were in a private hospital, but secrecy had to be maintained—which meant there was no nurse or doctor in here with them.
To the outside world, Juliette was Devon and Franco’s surrogate, a beloved friend helping the dedicated couple become fathers.
Only the people in the room knew both that they were a trinity, and who, and what, Juliette was.
Devon started for the door. “I’ll get the doctor.”
“No. Not time for that. Not yet.” She panted, worry flashing across her face. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“I’ll check—” Franco started to say.
“Franco, if you attempt to check my cervix dilation I will punch you in the dick.”
Franco’s eyes widened, and he went back to rearranging her vertebrae.
She rested, breathing slow and labored, and everyone stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt whatever rest she could find. Juliette made a sound that was almost a whimper, and entirely unlike her, seemed to steel herself, then hissed out a breath, gripping the bar tight enough the metal groaned.
Her head snapped up, her eyes bright and hard.
“Go get Eric and Nikolett,” she snarled. “Vacation’s over.”
Sophia sighed in what he thought was relief. Only Caesar had the power to give this particular order.
It was Colum who’d refused to believe Eric was dead. His grief had been terrible to see, his conviction that somehow Eric and Nikolett had escaped so heartbreaking that the only person who could bear to listen to his theories was Franco.
Franco listened to the stories about tunnels under the castle and cave systems in the cliffs.
A secret map he found in a compartment in the main stairwell.
Annie, heartsick from watching Colum’s grief, worked every contact from her previous occupation just to make Colum feel better.
Maybe, when she found nothing, it would give him closure.
Annie, in turn, got Devon involved, but their performative search became something else, something more, as Franco mapped out exactly how they could have done it, and Devon began to take the search seriously.
By the end of the third week after Eric’s and Nikolett’s death, dozens of members in both American and Europe were looking for two people Sebastian had been sure were long dead, their bodies fish food.
It was Vicente Coval who found them, using a tip from a forger Jasper Ferrer knew.
A tip about a couple who showed up bloody and wounded, desperate for passports that would get them into Spain.
The forger refused to give the names on the forged passports, but Vicente was able to find them—a foreign couple, one of whom sounded Scandinavian, the other Eastern European, living in Girona, Spain.
Neither was blonde, but the man was massive, a head above everyone else in the seaside town.
They had an apartment with a view of white sand and water, and once a week, they went to a small graveyard an hour away, leaving flowers for a woman named Maria Llorell.
It was Juliette who’d ordered everyone to stand down once they were located. And Caesar’s orders were obeyed.
Instead, Caesar sent people to both protect, and watch, them.
“Show me where they are. Show me where they are right now,” Juliette demanded. “If they’re at the fucking beach, while I’m having a giant fucking baby...”
“I don’t actually think the baby is going to be giant,” Sebastian whispered to Sophia. “Though Franco has a big head…”
Sophia pulled a tablet from her bag, tapping the screen.
A second later, a video appeared. Sophia turned the tablet so they could all see the image of two people walking down a narrow street in the medieval heart of a coastal city. They moved slowly, the evidence of what it had cost them to survive the explosion all too apparent.
Juliette leaned in, peering at the picture. “Is that gelato? Are they having gelato while I’m stuck with ice chips?”
“Ummmm,” Sophia said.
“That’s it. Give me a phone. Someone give me a phone.”
“Maybe now isn’t the best time,” Franco said soothingly.
“Iugula,” Juliette snapped.
“Why did you teach her that?” Sebastian murmured to Sophia.
“Juliette, my love.” Devon stepped in to rub her back. “I’m not slitting our husband’s throat.”
“Maybe don’t do things that make her want to cut your throat,” Sophia said to Seb with a shrug.
“Excuse me, I’m her best friend. It’s my job to keep her humble.”
“Shut up, Seb,” Juliette snapped as she stabbed the screen of the phone an alarmed-looking Franco had handed her.
On the tablet Sophia held, Eric tugged a phone out of his pocket. His back was to them, his expression not visible, but it took him a moment to answer, slowly bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hola?” a man’s voice came from the phone Juliette held.
Sophia exhaled, eyes sliding closed, her relief at hearing Eric’s voice apparent.
Juliette hit the speakerphone button, dropping the phone onto the bed under her belly. “Hi, Eric, how’s being dead?”
On screen, Eric whipped around, scanning the street as he pulled Nikolett against his side.
“Never mind,” Juliette panted. “I don’t care. I’m having a baby…” She paused to groan. “That means your playtime is over.”
“You…have the wrong number,” Eric said in English, though the words were resigned.
“You know what? Fuck you, Ericsson. Pass the phone to Nikolett. I don’t know why I was even trying to talk to a penis in the first place.”
“Hello?” They heard a second before the video showed Nikolett accepting the phone, raising a questioning gaze to Eric. He shook his head, but there was a slight smile on his lips.
“Hi, Nikolett. Juliette here. Surprise. We know you’re alive. We’ve known for months. Colum was either going to find you or become a necromancer. You’ve had your little vacation, but it’s time to come back.”
There was a short pause. They all watched Nikolett lean into Eric, but it didn’t look defeated. She didn’t seem sad, but accepting. “When and where?” Nikolett finally said.
“See?” Juliette said to the room at large. “This is why I needed to talk to someone with a vagina. Dublin. It’s your new headquarters.
“Oh, and by the way, we merged the societies. You’re now consul of Europe and Eric is Caesar over both societies for when shit goes sideways.”
“Caesar?” Eric said with a laugh. “That had to be Colum’s idea.”
“I helped,” Franco called out.
Juliette screamed through her teeth.
On screen, Nikolett stiffened. “Are you in danger?”
“Yes. No. Maybe? I haven’t checked maternal mortality rates in the last hour.”
“You’re having a baby…at this moment?” Nikolett asked in alarm.
“Yes. I gave you…I gave you two as long as I could.” Juliette raised her head. “Midwife. Get my midwife.”
Devon bolted.
“Nikolett?” Juliette asked.
“I’m still here.”
“Good. I have to go, and you two have to come back.” Juliette was both getting tired and pulling in, focusing.
Seb knew her well enough to see the the small changes to her expression.
“I did the hard part. The societies are merged. I’m taking maternity leave.
While I’m gone Seb will be the other consul, but then I’ll be back and the three of us will run it. ”
There was a long silence. Juliette had started rocking her weight side to side, Franco murmuring to her so low Seb couldn’t make out the words.
“Juliette?” Nikolett said.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For giving us time.”
Beside him, Sophia put a hand over her heart, eyes luminous.
Seb almost wished things could be different, that they could let Eric and Nikolett live out their lives hidden away and at peace. But neither of them was meant for peace, no more than Juliette was. Juliette and Nikolett were meant to lead, Eric to be their sword and shield.
“Good luck,” Nikolett said. “With the baby. We’ll leave for Dublin tomorrow.”
“Tonight,” Juliette countered. “This baby had better not still be in me tomorrow.”
“Tonight,” Nikolett agreed.
“Colum can catch you up,” Franco said.
“Good plan. Gotta go.” Juliette reached down for the phone.
“Wait,” Nikolett rushed to say. “What’s the name of the merged societies?”
Juliette’s head tipped up, and she and Seb shared a smirk. “The Trinity Masters.”
“What?” Eric barked in outrage, voice faint since he wasn’t holding the phone.
“You fake your death, you don’t get to pick the name. And, Eric?” Juliette grinned. “That means I win.”