Chapter XXVIII Lela
XXVIII
LELA
“I’m still in shock,” I said, holding my sister’s hand on a low sofa against the wall of the large hall that made up most of their cottage. “Tell me your story. What happened after that night.”
No need to specify which night. There was only one that had altered our entire lives.
We sat in a giant room that entailed the kitchen, the hearth, and living space.
There were doors on either side that must lead to bedchambers, for the house wasn’t very large from the outside.
There was also a loft on one side with a ladder leading up to it, likely where Stefanos and his dog slept.
I was lying on a thick blanket spread out on the floor.
Trajan and Julian, a well-built Roman, sat near the hearth, murmuring in low voices. Trajan stared at me, concern on his brow, but he remained seated with Julian.
“I asked Trajan and Julian to give us a few moments alone.” She laughed lightly. “He doesn’t seem happy about it.”
“No, he doesn’t.” I smiled.
I glanced over at the man Trajan was talking to. “So that’s Julianus Dakkia, the emperor’s nephew. Your husband?”
She smiled, piercing my heart. I’d missed her smile terribly over the years. I’d missed her so intensely, it hurt.
“Yes. We married here in Britannia. A Celtic priest performed the rite. Mama would’ve been furious.” She blinked away tears that misted her eyes at the thought of Mama.
“But Bunica would’ve loved it,” I added gently. “She was always keen on listening to any gods, even the ones who weren’t ours.”
Malina smiled. “That is true.”
I shook my head, taking her hand in mine again, needing physical connection for assurance that this was indeed real.
“Tell me, Malina. What happened to you? Tell me everything.”
So she did. She told me how she’d fled the night our village was attacked, how she’d found a kindhearted tavern keeper who gave her work and shelter.
She told me how she was branded a witch for using her magic, which caught the attention of a Celtic tribe from Gaul, how she’d joined them to defend their lands against their enemies.
She told me of a Celtic woman named Enid who took her in like her own daughter, the good times they had before the Romans came to Gaul.
She explained how she’d used her magic to thwart the Romans until the general was killed and Julianus took his place.
After their defeat in battle, Julianus shifted into his dragon then killed one of his own soldiers trying to assault her and carried her back to his home in Rome.
From there, I learned how she’d been living in a home not far from where I was on Palatine Hill, how her life took a frightening turn when she was forced to serve in the home of Ciprian, who sounded quite similar to my former master Valerius.
“Then Julian killed him, burned his entire home, and carried me away on dragonback. We’ve been here ever since.”
Relieved laughter bubbled up in my chest. “I could never imagine my wild sister Malina happily living the life of a farmer’s wife in Britannia.”
“I’m quite happy not having any adventures for the moment.” She glanced over at the men whispering beside the hearth. “Though I know it isn’t over.”
I didn’t want to talk about that yet. “I’m still amazed you were living so close to me for a while, and I never knew.
Do you know my friend Andreas, another servant with me in the home of the consul, had seen you fly away that night?
I made him tell me the story over and over.
Not because I knew it was my sister, but simply because I liked to imagine it was me flying far away from that wretched city. ”
She squeezed my hand. “And then your own dragon flew you away, didn’t he?”
My attention drew to Trajan again. While he listened intently to Julian, his gaze kept finding me. He gave me a small smile before returning.
“Yes,” I agreed. “He did.”
“And what of you?” she asked gently. “When you were taken to Rome, what happened?”
Fear shone stark and bright on her face.
I wouldn’t tell her the details, for I’d never hurt my sister with the hard truth of my captivity.
But I told her how I was kept by a cruel man, how my magic finally came to me, and how I’d failed to kill him when I first used my power.
I told her of the muzzle I’d been forced to wear and how I’d met Trajan and all that transpired from there in our escape across Hispania to here.
When Ivo crossed the room with Stefanos, he smiled at me and ducked his head shyly. I returned it, then explained how Ivo had protected me the last night I tried to escape from Valerius’s home and that I’d always feared he’d killed Ivo when I found him gone the next day.
“Stefanos told me how Ivo had tried to protect a slave woman and been beaten near to death. That was how he came to Julian’s home. I can’t believe it was you. I’m so sorry, Lela.”
“I’m all right now,” I reassured her. “More than that really.” I glanced at Trajan by the fire. I shook my head in wonder. “How strange that we found two Roman men, best friends, to be our allies and help us flee Rome.”
“No,” she said sweetly. “Not strange at all.”
“How do you mean?”
“It was divine, Lela. Destiny.”
The prickle of magic skated across my skin, raising gooseflesh on my arms, then intensified.
My own blood hummed warmly at the touch of my sister’s magic.
I hadn’t felt hers in a long time, and when I had, my own power hadn’t manifested yet.
But now, it was like our magic communed together, meeting and merging like friends. Like sisters.
“Do you feel that?” Malina asked, her empathic senses strong and sharp.
“Yes. Why is our magic doing that?”
She frowned, looking down at our clasped hands. “I’m unsure. Bunica always said that our magic would be stronger together.”
“Did she?” I asked, trying to remember. “I suppose she did. I wasn’t always listening when she spoke of our magic.”
“Because you thought it was nonsense,” Malina huffed.
Grimacing at the truth of it, I nodded. “I did. But I certainly feel it now. I believe it is growing stronger.”
Then something hit me. “Malina.” I squeezed her hands excitedly.
“If we survived, perhaps Kizzy and Kostanya did too. Bunica always said we were meant to work together against our enemies. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I believe she was right.
For so long, I thought her constant preachings were nothing more than an old woman’s fantasies. ”
Malina tilted her head, her jewel-green eyes pierced with sadness. “I believe one of them lives. And one is gone.”
“Why do you say that?” My stomach sickened with dread.
“Bunica never said directly, but she’d mentioned only three of us would have the gifts of Minerva. And”—she paused before meeting my gaze—“I believe Kizzy’s spirit visited me in a temple in Rome.”
“How do you mean?”
“I can’t say exactly. I’ve been thinking all three of you died that night all this time. I went to a temple to pray for you all, and I felt”—she blinked away a mist of tears—“I don’t know how to explain, only that I felt Kizzy’s spirit pass through me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and the sorrow at knowing she was probably right. That our baby sister, the sweetest of us all, was likely gone to the afterlife.
Malina sniffed. “We must find Kostanya.”
“We will,” I promised her. “I don’t know how, but we will.”
We sat in silence a few moments, still holding hands, as if one of us might disappear if we let go.
“You know, Mina? I’ve been thinking of ‘The Mother Song’ so often lately. It’s come to me in dreams. I think Bunica sent it to me, giving me courage the night I killed my master. Do you remember it?”
Her green eyes sparked brightly by the firelight. “Of course I do.” She hummed the opening tune then began to sing in Dacian.
“O fiic? se ?ndreapt? spre casa ei,
Prin verzi p?duri ?i singur?,
Tanjind dup? mama ei,
Dar ?i dup? a vetrei c?ldur?.”
I chimed in at once, memory and magic infusing my soul.
“Nu-l vede pe lupul hain
Pandind ?n crangul maiestuos,
?i nici nu-i aude pasul viclean,
Doar vantul prin funzi?ul gros.”
We gazed at the fire across the room and at each other, singing the song of home, the one our grandmother taught us, the one that warned monsters of the world to beware if they did a daughter harm.
It was lovely and sad and wonderful.
When we sang the last line, I clutched my sister’s hand tightly, wrapped in her love and that of our mother, our grandmother, and all of those women who came before them, singing this song to their daughters, instilling strength through a bond no man or monster could sever.
We remained quiet, in perfect harmony simply being in one another’s presence. I’d nearly given up on the gods, but in that moment, I felt blessed.
A short, stout woman moved about the kitchen on the farther side of the room. Stefanos sat near the hearth behind Julian, listening to the men while petting Amica’s head in his lap, her eyes closed. There was no sign of the man named Ruskus.
“Believe it or not,” I told my sister, “I wish now I was back in Rome. There was a woman I knew who had the sight similar to Bunica.” I smiled now at the memory of the reading she’d given me using her chicken Cassiopeia’s blood.
“I can’t believe it but Euphemia had told me I’d have a long journey and a reunion. I never imagined this.”
“Euphemia?” asked Malina excitedly. “The pharmakopoles?”
“Yes. You know her?”
“I do.” She laughed. “My friend Rhea who’d been a servant with me in Ciprian’s house brought me to her when I needed a strong spell. I can’t believe you know her.”
Then something occurred to me. “When Ciprian’s house was burned, did Rhea escape?”
“I believe so. Along with her man Doro.”
“Is Rhea thin, blond, and pretty? Doro was a big man, dark hair, olive-skinned?”
“Yes. How do you know?”
Smiling, I told her, “They were living with Euphemia as her new assistants in the shop. Rhea was going by the name of Thea.”