Chapter 34
The guards threw Kallias to the floor in Gaius’s bedroom. Kallias barely managed to catch himself on his hands and knees, wincing at the impact on the stone floor. Of course they couldn’t have managed to throw him down an arm’s length further into the room, where a plush rug covered the stone.
Kallias had a lifetime of practice in withstanding similar indignities, so he picked himself up with as much coolness as if he’d simply tripped. He wiped the back of his hand across his bleeding lip, eyes fighting to adjust to the brightness of the room after the darkened streets.
Kallias had, foolishly and briefly, attempted to resist when the guards apprehended him, which left him with a bloody lip and bruised ribs. Lea’s recklessness must be rubbing off on him.
At this time of night, the palace was mostly dark and silent. Except for the emperor’s bedroom, where every lamp was lit, the emperor himself still fully dressed.
Kallias was still trying to figure out how he’d been discovered.
Possibly, someone at the place he’d been staying had sold him out.
Or, the Praetorians had been surreptitiously watching the ludus, as it was one of the few places in the city he was known to frequent.
If that were the case, then his visit to Lea had been his undoing.
And all for nothing, as he hadn’t even swayed her.
With the lamplight flickering over his face, Gaius looked much older than his twenty-five years. “I find myself with little use for a medicus who disappears, Kallias.”
Kallias’s mind had been racing since he’d been taken, attempting to think of a way to mollify the emperor, a passable excuse. He could claim he’d been kidnapped. Or, he could simply bow his head and beg forgiveness.
If Lea were here, she’d no doubt be spitting insults, probably dooming herself in the process.
He settled for a middle ground: silence.
The emperor paced before him, the movements stiff and jerky. “You were needed,” he continued. “We needed you. My sister was afflicted—she was suffering—”
A quiet voice spoke from behind Kallias. “Don’t bring me into this.”
His head whipped around to see Drusilla, barefoot, a shawl wrapped around her slender shoulders as if she’d been roused from sleep. She glanced briefly at Kallias, then crossed past him to stand next to her brother. “It was only my courses, Gaius,” she said. “Which occur every month.”
“You were suffering—” Gaius hissed.
“As every woman suffers,” she said calmly.
Gaius waved a tense hand and returned his attention to Kallias. “Why did you leave?” he demanded.
Kallias strove to moisten his dry mouth. Now would be the time to summon a suitable excuse, but he had none to hand. All that remained was the truth. “I left because I did not wish to be here anymore.”
It was the simplest answer, yet it seemed to take Gaius by surprise. He blinked. “Are—are you so unhappy here?”
Old habits urged Kallias to deny, to bend, to conjure the yielding deference that had been his shield for so long.
But he couldn’t do it anymore. His well of subservience had run dry, exhausted by a lifetime kept in thrall to others.
“Of course I’m unhappy.” The words came out in a biting snap, a tone he’d never dared to take with the emperor. “You confined me to the palace unjustly. I witnessed you threaten to torture two innocent people. And that’s only the events of the past two weeks.”
Gaius’s lips pressed together into a thin, pale line. Drusilla moved closer, brushed his arm with her hand, and murmured something into his ear. He glanced toward her, his gaze lingering on her face, then let out a sharp exhale.
“Kallias, we’ve been through a great deal together.” Gaius’s tone softened, losing the biting snap of his anger. “So I can forgive this lapse. We can go back to how things were. If you apologize and promise never to leave again.” There was a plaintive edge to his words.
Kallias recognized Drusilla was trying to sway her brother toward mercy, trying to throw him a lifeline. He appreciated her efforts, but it was too late for that. “I can’t make that promise.”
He braced himself for an outburst of anger, but the emperor just looked confused. Gaius frowned at Kallias, staring hard at him as if trying to puzzle out words in a foreign script. “Why?” he demanded. “Is it money? I would consider increasing your salary if you swore never to leave us again.”
“There is no amount of money you could pay me,” Kallias said quietly. “I never chose this life, and I won’t choose it now.”
“But I need you.” Gaius spoke with a childlike stubbornness, a complete inability to comprehend that someone else saw things differently than he did.
“You don’t.” Kallias straightened his shoulders. The words he’d been longing to say for years rushed from his mouth, as sharp and fast as the arrows Lea would shoot tomorrow. “If you have any ailment, it’s in your mind, not your body. And unfortunately, I have no remedy for that.”
Drusilla’s eyes widened.
“How dare you,” Gaius snarled, his momentary moderation abandoned. “You’ve forgotten who gave you your freedom, medicus. I can take it away.”
A jolt of horror pulsed through Kallias. His expectations about the consequences of his disappearance had been focused on the short-term: imprisonment, death, possibly a bit of torture along the way. He had not considered being forced to return to a life of slavery.
He can’t. Surely that’s unlawful. But somehow, Kallias doubted the legality mattered in this situation. After all, who would stop the emperor?
Drusilla grabbed her brother’s arm. “Gaius! Be reasonable.”
In a sudden, reflexive movement, Gaius’s arm flashed out to shove her away. His hand made contact with her shoulder, and she stumbled back from the force of it, letting out a small cry.
The emperor froze, staring at her in terror as if he’d just realized what he’d done. He snatched his hand back.
An icy mask settled over Drusilla’s usually mild expression. She surveyed her brother with a piercing gaze. When she spoke, her words thrummed with menace. “If you ever touch me in violence again, you will cease to be my brother. Do you understand?”
Gaius was shaking all over, and his face was white as the linens of his bed just beyond. “I’m s-s-sorry. Please, forgive me.” Abruptly, he pulled her into his arms, clinging to her with desperation.
She returned the embrace. When Kallias caught sight of her face, it was drawn with a weariness that spoke of more than the late hour.
When they separated, Gaius glanced over Kallias with faint surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was there. The emperor’s gaze shifted to the Praetorians flanking the doorway. “Get him out of here,” he snapped. “I’ll deal with him tomorrow. After the games.”
The Praetorians stepped forward, hauled Kallias to his feet, and dragged him from the room.