Chapter XXII Lela #2
Trajan had walked to her and said a few words I couldn’t hear.
That must be Alba. I heard her respectful, “Yes, dominus. Do not fear me.” Trajan watched her a moment then turned and stalked toward me.
His expression was grim and sharp. He vibrated with dragon energy tonight, from the moment we stepped through the olive grove and back gate to his courtyard.
Two very tall, beefy men with similar dark hair and eyes at the front of the litter nodded to me as I stepped closer. These must be Horatius’s sons—Jovian and Lupus. The other litter-bearers were trusted servants of Horatius’s house.
Without hesitating, I stepped into the litter, not surprised to find an older, regal man waiting inside. However, I was surprised at his rather broad-chested, muscular physique. Even in the semidarkness of the litter, I could see that he was a physically powerful dragon, no matter his age.
I took the bench opposite him. His brow pinched in confusion. Before he could say a word, Trajan said something to Horatius’s sons then climbed inside, taking the seat next to me.
“Grandfather, this is Lela. Lela, this is my grandfather, Gaius Sapphirus Tiberius.”
The regal man’s frown disappeared, replaced by shock. “Lela. The slave woman who killed Valerius and is the most-wanted fugitive in all of Rome.”
“Greetings, sir. I am that very one.”
The litter-bearers lifted us and moved out of the courtyard, while Trajan’s grandfather took stock of me. Finally, he glanced at his grandson then chuckled and extended both hands to me.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you, my dear.”
I gave him my hands, suddenly overwhelmed by his kind greeting.
“And you,” I told him, then we both leaned back against the bench.
“So this was the secret you were keeping from me, my boy.”
Trajan smiled at his grandfather. “If you didn’t know I was hiding her, then you had genuine deniability if asked.”
“I understand.” His brow pinched again as he pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer out. “We are heading up the hill, not down.”
“Everyone is heading to the celebration for Drussus,” Trajan told him.
Even as he said it, the sound of other litter-bearers’ marching feet and the murmuring voices of patricians filled the street.
“We need to appear as if we’re doing the same,” said Gaius with understanding. “You plan to take the alley beside Kato’s home.”
Trajan nodded and turned to me. “There is a small alleyway for Kato’s convenience. As a consul and an elder, there is a small stone path that leads directly down into the city without taking the longer route down the hill. We will break off and take that road.”
“Then what?” asked Gaius, who apparently knew less than I did.
“Koska has come through yet again. I owe that man my life. He’s arranged passage on an olive oil and wine trading ship due to leave for Greece tonight.”
“You have been busy, my son,” said the older man, smiling with pride at Trajan.
“Yes, Grandfather. I am doing all I can.”
My heart pricked at the tenderness between them, a longing wrapping me in desperate arms. It reminded me of my sisters and the familial love we once had. It was the first time I’d thought of them without soul-crushing despair. Instead, it was a sweet sting that filled me.
The litter slowed and Trajan peered through the open slit. “Son of Dis.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Centurions.”
“What?” Gaius seemed shocked as well, leaning forward to peer through the drapes.
“Drussus’s men. They’ve lined the street. They’re blocking the alleyway beside Kato’s.”
Gaius leaned back in his seat. “Why would Drussus use his centurions?”
“Because praetorians are roaming the city,” said Trajan.
“Looking for me,” I added, fear speeding my pulse.
“It’s not just that.” Trajan stared through the crack out into the street. “Caesar is planning something. He wants everyone at his palace tonight, no one slipping away to avoid his party.”
“Why would patricians avoid a party at Caesar’s palace?” I asked.
Trajan shared a knowing look with his grandfather then told me, “Caesar uses his celebrations to ensure his control over the patricians. He is … diabolical in his methods.”
“If I go there, Quintus will recognize me.”
Trajan scoffed in disgust then growled, “I will never bring you inside that circle of hell.” He then opened the drapes covering a small window facing the front of the litter and spoke low to Horatius’s sons. “Follow everyone else. There is a bend at the curve leading to the palace. Stop there.”
The litter moved on more quickly, falling into line with the many others. Trajan’s expression looked grim.
“Do you think they know about the praetorians?” I asked him.
“What praetorians?” Gaius interrupted.
“The ones I killed this morning,” I answered, my gaze on Trajan.
“If they knew, there would’ve been forced searches of every home on Palatine Hill today. The centurions would be searching every litter. But they’re simply corralling us all up to the palace. He wants us all there for some reason.”
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” said Gaius.
“I don’t think you should go in either.” Trajan’s eyes were bright, the pupils slit with the dragon. Magic hummed and radiated from him. He was on edge.
“If I don’t, it will only draw more attention to you. To us. I must go. But what about Lela?”
Trajan looked at me. “When they stop the litter, Grandfather and I will both get out and pretend to take a piss in the wooded area at the bend. I want you to slip out when I tell you and hide in the woods until I return to get you.”
“I suppose I can’t just stay here in the litter.”
“I don’t want to take the chance,” added Trajan. “The praetorians may detect you.”
“Heightened sense of smell.” I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Then the litter stopped and was set on the ground. Trajan instantly climbed out of the litter.
“Salve, Tribune!” someone called from not far away. “Too much to drink already?”
“Not enough yet, Leto. Save some wine for me!”
That cackling laughter of Leto’s sent a ghastly chill down my spine. A flash of the piggish patrician lounging on Valerius’s sofa, gorging himself and leering at me in my muzzled state, gripped me hard.
“Stay hidden until we return,” Gaius reminded me, not that I needed it. He gave my forearm a gentle squeeze then climbed out next to Trajan.
Forcing that old fear out of my mind, I crouched at the drapes, poised and ready.
“Now?” I whispered.
Both Trajan and Gaius faced the shadowed woods, hauling up the hems of their togas, pretending to piss. “Not yet,” Trajan whispered back.
The shuffling of feet and haughty laughter of patricians being carried up the hill was all I heard until Trajan hissed, “Now.”
I leaped through the curtains, between the two of them, and slipped into the woods on silent feet. This must be a small patch of woodlands surrounding Caesar’s palace. Tall oaks and chestnut trees towered above me, the leaves thick, providing deep shadows to hide within.
After the earlier storm, the sky had cleared, the full moon beaming large and bright above us. It would’ve been better to flee under the cover of a new moon, when there was little light. But it didn’t matter when our enemy was other dragons. They could see and smell us in the dead of night.
Trajan adjusted his toga, staring into the shadows, finding me with his preternatural gaze. Then he turned and climbed back into the litter with his grandfather.
Slowly, I stepped farther into the woods until I could no longer see the road. Backing up to the trunk of a thick oak tree, I slid down into a sitting position and listened.
Moon shadows filtered through the leaves above, but I was far enough from the road no one could see me. All I could hear was the continuous marching of litter-bearers, the creaking of litters, murmuring voices, and laughter.
The nobility were all headed to a party at the palace, and yet dread sank into the pit of my stomach like a stone. What was Caesar planning now? Was Trajan safe in entering that circle of hell as he’d called it? Or was this a trap to capture him? Did Caesar know he was a traitor?
“Please,” I whispered to the heavens. “Minerva protect him. And Gaius.”
I prayed to the goddess who’d allegedly given me my mystical power. The one Bunica said had blessed me. I’d never considered it a blessing until it had given me the power to kill Valerius, until I’d taken back my freedom with my witchy magic.
Listening to the litters and laughter, I realized I wasn’t free yet. Focusing on keeping calm and quiet, I remained still until the sounds of footsteps along the stone road to the palace faded and disappeared altogether.
Removing my veil, I leaned my head back, my hair pulling a little on the bark of the tree.
I gazed through the leaves at the round moon.
Some depictions of the goddess Minerva included the moon above her, the shining beacon of night, light in the darkness.
It was comforting, even while fear slithered around me, reminding me that Trajan could be walking toward his death.
“Please,” I whispered again, hoping the goddess heard me.
An eerie call echoed through the trees. I gasped and snapped my head to the left. Was the goddess actually answering me? For the voice who’d made that ghostly cry was so otherworldly, gooseflesh rose along my skin.
Then I heard it again.
Jumping to my feet, I peered into the darkness of the woods where it had come from. No goddess or monster crept closer. Whatever it was, it was deeper through the trees.
Then a third cry pealed high into the night, sounding more like an injured animal. The haunting sorrow of it beckoned me closer. Lightly, I stepped through the trees, pausing frequently to listen for danger.
There was no sign of guards in the woods or anyone else. Only that heartbreaking sound of a hurt creature.
With the help of the bright moonlight, I could see a clearing up ahead. The sound came from that clearing. Once I was on the edge, I hid behind a thick trunk, trying to find it.
There was a stone tower above what seemed to be a large hole in the ground. There were two guards in the tower, both of them talking and laughing. In the near distance, I heard the sound of music. Knowing this was the direction of the palace, I must be near Caesar’s home.
Easing along the tree line, I watched the tower, but the guards didn’t seem at all concerned by the hurt animal in the large pit. They continued to drink and laugh at their guarding station, like they didn’t even hear its plaintive cry.
I stared back through the trees, knowing I should simply ignore whatever it was and return to my hiding place near the road and wait for Trajan.
I took a step back toward the woods, then it came again, and I felt a deep tug on my magic, like a kindred spirit called for me.
I tried, but I simply couldn’t walk away, because deep down, I already knew who made that horrifying sound.
Circling stealthily to the far side of the pit, I eased my body down to the grassy clearing and crawled on my belly. Keeping my eyes glued to the guards, I watched for any sign they heard or saw me. They didn’t, so I continued on.
There was a dip at the edge then a stone rim around the pit. My body concealed, I gripped the stone lip and eased my head up so that I could see what had called me with that mournful cry.
By the gods. My heart hammered hard in my chest when I beheld her. I was right.
It was Camilla, Caesar’s sister, who he kept chained and bound in the pit.
The cook at Valerius’s home had told me her terrible history.
That she had become a vestal priestess at fifteen, her true heart’s desire since she was born a Vicus dragon.
But when Caesar gained the throne, he dragged her from the temple and back to his home.
Once Caesar had assaulted her, she’d transformed into a dragon and had never changed back into a woman.
So he kept her as his prisoner here in this pit behind his house.
The Vicus dragons were all female and could be born of any dragon house, but they were pure white. Their eyes were various shades of pink to deep red.
The white dragon down in the pit with cross-hatching bars along the opening, a collar around her throat that chained her to the floor, peered up at me with crimson eyes. One of her wings appeared bent, maimed.
“Gods,” I whispered, meeting her grief-stricken gaze.
She blinked at me then turned her snout up to the moon and let out that shrieking cry again.
She was praying, searching the skies for any god or goddess who would listen. Her long wail stopped abruptly when she angled her neck too far, the collar choking off her voice.
She whimpered and made herself smaller, tucking her wings close, curling her tail around her body in a protective manner. I stared at the collar, remembering the muzzle I’d worn for so many years.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered down to her, my heart breaking in half as a tear slipped down my face.
She chirped in a birdlike call, holding my gaze, as if she understood we were the same. Or we had been. We were indeed kindred spirits—both of us knowing the pain of imprisonment, of despair and desperation for freedom.
I hummed softly the tune of “The Mother Song,” hoping it might give her some kind of comfort, even for a moment. Her chirp turned into a purr as she stared and listened, her gaze haunted but benevolent.
Suddenly, she growled and snapped her sharp teeth up toward me. I jumped right as someone grabbed me from behind. A praetorian jerked me by the arms to my feet.
“What have we here?”