Chapter XIII Lela
XIII
LELA
It was late. The moon was high, and the grass was cool beneath my bare feet. The house had been quiet for some time, and Trajan hadn’t returned home. Closing my eyes, I walked in a small circle within the olive grove trees, imagining I was far away in a free land.
“What are you doing?”
I gasped. Trajan stood beneath a tree. Pieces of moonlight filtered through the branches and dappled his face, highlighting his stern expression.
“What are you doing outside?” he accused, stalking closer.
“Everyone is asleep.”
“How do you know that?”
“Am I wrong?” I asked, knowing he came through the house near the servants’ quarters.
“No,” he bit out, now standing beneath the same tree I was, a mere step away. “But that’s not the point. What if someone came outside and caught you?”
“They wouldn’t.” I shrugged. “I’ve watched the comings and goings here for the past three days. There are two servant women who come out the same time every afternoon with baskets to harvest the ripe olives. No one comes out here at night.”
“How would you know? Do you watch the garden at night?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “It’s not as if I’m sleeping much these days.”
A hush fell between us, but his scowl remained.
“How did you know where I was?” I asked.
His jaws worked as he clamped them before he replied, “I smelled you.”
“You smelled me?”
I would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so cross, if he hadn’t just reminded me how vulnerable I was in a world of dragons. Their senses were so heightened, it would be nearly impossible for me to escape this city.
“Did you think I had taken my chances and run away?” I backed into the trunk behind me, leaning there and looking up at him.
I wanted some space between us, my pulse pumping faster at the way he looked tonight.
Not from fear, but another emotion I didn’t want to feel.
He was dressed in a simple short tunic, a jewel blue that matched his eyes.
It wasn’t as stately or fine as togas I’d seen him wear before.
But with his scowl, his feet set apart, his gaze intense, I could see him on a battlefield facing an enemy. Fierce and formidable.
I couldn’t imagine this at our first meeting or even at Euphemia’s shop. He’d seemed so … civil. Even though he didn’t appear like the other old senators, he’d had easy mannerisms that hid the beast beneath.
But now, I could see his dragon. As a matter of fact, the otherworldly flicker of the fiery beast was staring at me now through his pretty eyes.
“You are angry because you thought I’d run away,” I stated.
He didn’t reply, and he didn’t move. He was so close now, I could smell the spicy, vanilla scent of myrrh. Then I noted that his beard had been trimmed cleanly, so close I could see the outline of his strong jaw. He’d been to the baths.
“Afraid your little bird will escape before you can use her power?” I asked coldly.
He took a step closer. I should’ve felt threatened with him towering above me in all of his masculine fury. But I didn’t. It was strange.
“I was afraid for your life, Lela.”
I smiled. “I doubt that.”
His ice-blue eyes flared brighter and a rumbling growl vibrated in his chest. His dragon rode him hard. I bet his dragon was pretty, like him.
“You believe I’m lying?” His voice was deeper, more dangerous.
“All men lie to get what they want.”
“You’ve simply been living with liars too long.”
“As if by choice,” I snapped back. “Are you telling me you aren’t lying now to everyone else, hiding with your conspirators to orchestrate a coup against the emperor?”
He didn’t reply. I went on.
“Why? So that you can become the new emperor and rule over all? Do you honestly believe you can gain the throne and not become corrupt by it? Not become the exact same monster you want to kill?”
“I am nothing like that creature.” His voice had dropped even deeper, his beast edging his skin as he fisted his hands.
I’d been on the other side of strong men’s fury.
I knew the pain they could cause. But I wasn’t afraid of Trajan.
He’d not once caused me harm or treated me the way Valerius had.
And those letters from his sister, the care he had for them, told me more about him than anything else.
Even his conspiracy to kill the foul creature who ruled as emperor of Rome made me see him differently.
I wasn’t afraid of him, but that didn’t mean I could trust him.
“Why are you pushing me?” he asked, body still tight and coiled, waiting to strike, most likely.
“To show you what you truly are,” I said coolly. “You think you’re different than the men you want to kill. You’re not.”
I waited for him to hit me or grab me, but he didn’t move. I suppose I was pushing him, just to see if he would react the way Valerius would have. Some masochistic thrill to prove that I was right. All Roman men were the same.
Rather than grow more angry, his expression shifted to sadness. Then I was the one suddenly incensed.
“Don’t you dare pity me,” I grated, feverish fury coursing through my veins.
“I’m not like them,” he added somberly. “How can I get you to trust me?”
“I’ll never trust you.”
“Because we are all the same to you?”
“As I’ve said. A Roman is a Roman.”
Holding my gaze, he slipped a hand into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a small dagger.
Finally, I was going to see the true Trajan, the beast within.
Tilting my chin higher, I offered my neck. “If you think I’m afraid of death, you are wrong. He has been my constant companion for too many years.”
His eyes brightened to icy crystals, but he said nothing as he lifted his hand, palm up, and sliced a cut across the fleshy part. I frowned, confused, as he lifted the bleeding wound toward me.
“Take my blood.”
I stood straight, no longer leaning against the tree trunk, my heart beating harder. “I could kill you if I wanted.”
“Yes,” he added, voice a velvety caress beneath the moonlight. “I saw Valerius’s body, remember? You could do the same to me.” He held his arm out farther, offering himself.
I didn’t want to kill him. The shock of it sped my heart faster. I didn’t want to harm him at all, which was a remarkable revelation.
Wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist, I lifted his hand closer.
A calling, a craving had me whispering to his blood.
“Come closer.” A few drops of blood slid from the cut, obeying my command.
A burst of energy flowed through me, having never felt this level of magic before.
I licked the drops that pooled on the tip of his finger.
That scintillating buzz of euphoria blazed like fire through my body.
I gasped as the magic took hold hard and fast. His blood burned like wildfire through my veins, speeding my pulse, winding deeper and deeper.
My magic and his blood fused, wrapping my soul in heat and a euphoric sense of rightness, belonging.
I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to feel this sensation, this connection. Not with anyone. Least of all a Roman dragon.
“Drop your dagger,” I commanded.
He did.
“Kneel.”
Instantly, he was on his knees, no longer towering over me. Power coursed through me, more intoxicating than anything I’d felt before, even more than when I’d entranced and killed Valerius.
The fact that he’d offered his blood freely heightened the sensation. He’d given me the power to do anything to him. I could kill him now if I wanted. But I didn’t. Still, I wanted answers. I wanted truths.
“Do not lie to me,” I ordered. “Do you have intentions to hurt me in any way?”
“No,” he answered instantly.
The echo of truth sang in the air. Electricity encircled us beneath the boughs of olive trees and the filtering moonlight. It whispered along my skin, raising gooseflesh.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
His gaze—all blue fire—burned bright and hot. “I want your help.”
“If I help you,” I began, noting that my body still trembled with the taste of his blood, “will you help me escape Rome?”
“Yes,” he answered rapidly, “I will get you safely out of Rome whether you help me or not.”
I stared, somewhat shocked. He couldn’t lie to me when under my power, my bloodsinger magic. A wind gusted through the olive tree branches, moonlight dappling his upturned face, his expression genuine. Not that it mattered, he could not lie to me. That thought spurred me on.
“Why do you want to kill the emperor?”
“Because he is a cruel dictator who only hurts and oppresses his people.”
“Do you want to take his place on the throne?”
“No.”
Interesting. I had thought that might be his goal.
“What is it you want then? What do you want to happen once he and his followers are dead?”
“I want a Rome where no one is burdened or oppressed by a corrupt king, where people’s rights aren’t stripped away because of the whim of a madman, where every person has the opportunity to lead a free, fulfilling life.”
Frowning, I took a step closer. “Every person? Even slaves?”
“Every person,” he repeated.
“You are saying you want there to be no more slavery? In Rome? In all of the empire?” I couldn’t fathom such a thing.
“A free Roman Empire,” he replied.
“Then you are mad,” I said on a bitter laugh. “It would take a monumental war. You’d have to kill hundreds, even thousands of your own kind. Of patricians.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It will be a bloody war. There is no doubt.” He kept still, on his knees, arms at his sides as I’d commanded, his expression serene as he spoke of the deaths of thousands.
“This is why I need my grandfather in a place of power in the senate. He will lead us into a new era, a Rome I can be proud of. One that is truly great. Not because of the land and people we conquer and dominate, but because of the prosperity and well-being of all Romans.”
I could do nothing but stare in absolute wonder before finally adding bitterly, “It’s a fantasy, Trajan. It will never happen.”
His gaze drifted over me, his attention drawn elsewhere. “Why did you harm yourself?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That night in the temple.” He nodded toward my legs. “You were hurting yourself.”
Heat flushed my cheeks that he’d caught me in such a vulnerable position that night, that he had seen my secret, my weakness. I’d been pretending that he hadn’t remembered. But here he was, confronting me with my private shame.
“It’s none of your business.”
“No,” he agreed, “but I want to know. To understand.”
Again, he seemed so sincere, his expression pinched with concern, rather than pity. Still, I couldn’t contain the anger from boiling hotly to the surface.
“You want to know why I cut myself?” I snapped.
He dipped his head in a single nod.
“Because I’ve had to lock away all of my pain and rage, living with that monster for years. Because sometimes I’d lose myself, and become so numb to the world, I didn’t even know if I was alive,” I shouted, my voice trembling.
Then I took a deep breath, not wanting to wake anyone with my mounting fury.
“Because dragonkind is a cruel fucking race. And I needed to bleed myself, to feel the sharp pinch of pain, to release the agony of holding it inside myself while I was muzzled like a cur.”
His eyes glowed bright with blue fire. He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat bobbing.
“We are not all cruel, Lela.”
I wanted to slap him for being so calm, so genuine.
Part of me wanted to enrage his beast so that I could be right in saying and knowing they were all the same.
Imagining that Trajan was indeed different—a kind, good man willing to sacrifice his life to create a new, better world for the citizens of Rome—terrified me.
Because a man like that, I could care for.
And the gods knew nothing good ever came from that.
“That remains to be seen,” I said coldly, “Tribune Tiberius.”
I stormed away, ignoring the glimpse of hurt in his eyes, that I’d caused.
I’d wanted to hurt him for discovering my shame, that I’d had to cut myself in order to mentally and emotionally survive the hell I lived in for so long.
And yet, I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. Only more loss.
He wanted to understand, to know my secrets.
But he was a dragon. Perhaps not of Valerius’s ilk, but he was a dragon all the same.
If I ever truly trusted him, that meant I could care for him.
That I could open my hollow heart and let him in.
The mere thought was horrifying. I simply had no heart left to give.