Chapter 8. Before Luca
BEFORE: LUCA
My existence had never mattered to Kastor Matius until he could bear no child of his own.
My uncle brushed off the shoulders of my tunic as we waited in front of the closed door of Villa Casperia.
He looked more like a corpse with each passing day, his face pale and gaunt, his eyes losing their light.
When he’d succumbed to a coughing fit that morning, I’d been sure he wouldn’t be able to attend the party and that I’d be spared the ridiculous charade. But somehow, he’d managed it.
I stared at him as he intently straightened the elaborate toga that draped over my tunic.
He’d spent days having me try different ones before he made a choice, and now he looked as if he were doubting his decision.
I waited for some instinctual feeling of compassion or pity to surface inside me as I surveyed his withering face, but it didn’t come.
It seemed there was no bottom to the well of hatred I had for the man, and I could guess that he would say the same for me.
Our fates had been irrevocably bound, whether we liked it or not.
I was sixteen years old the first time that I met Kastor.
It was only months before my mother died, and he’d shown up to make her an offer.
In addition to the purse of drachmas she could use to die comfortably in the bowels of the Lower City, he promised education, wealth, and a future in the Forum for her son.
He hadn’t even finished speaking before my mother agreed, and that night, she laid the drachmas on the altar of the temple, choosing to give the fortune over to the gods and die in some filthy gutter instead.
The custom of adoption wasn’t an uncommon one.
Magistrate families had been taking on the sons and daughters of relatives in order to secure heirs for their Forum seats for generations.
Knowing what I did now, it was even possible that my mother had been the one to first suggest it.
But when the deal was struck, neither of them knew that Kastor would meet an early death, succumbing to a sickness slowly consuming his lungs.
In the last few years, he hadn’t been able to hide the stain of blood at the corners of his mouth, and now the entire Forum was waiting for him to die.
When he did, his seat would immediately be passed down to me.
“It’s very important that you make a good impression.” Kastor’s scrutinizing gaze ran over me again as he unknowingly repeated Vitrasian’s words.
I looked up at the home of my uncle’s enemy, which towered behind him.
The sound of music and the scent of roasted boar drifted down from the open windows of the villa.
The terrace overhead was bursting with vines that snaked down the walls with bright red blooms, and the shadows of the people inside rippled over the buildings around us. This was where I would make my debut.
Hosting the First Feast was a great honor bestowed by the Consul, and my uncle had put his own name forth for consideration.
But Saturian was desperate to garner favor with Casperia, and when the announcement was made, Kastor had thrown his wineglass against the stone wall of his chambers.
Nothing made him angrier than losing to Casperia, who’d managed to beat him at almost every turn of his political career.
It was especially cruel that she’d taken his chance to host the First Feast when it would be his last.
“The Magistrates are looking for good stock, and despite what you lack in sight and conviction, that’s exactly what you are. A cock that can put a child in a womb.” He slapped me on the back painfully. “In the end, that will have to be enough.”
I gritted my teeth at the implication that I was nothing more than cattle, but I was used to the callous speech.
Kastor had kept me mostly out of sight when it came to the social customs of the Magistrates so that when he finally did bring me into the fold, I’d have something of a military record and other accolades to tout.
It would do him no good for people to remember that I wasn’t actually his son.
We shared blood, but I’d been raised in the Lower City long enough for it to show if anyone was looking closely enough.
Still, I was expected to marry someone who would strengthen his position and bridge us with another powerful family.
“There are a few in particular who would do well for us.” He was still talking, despite my obvious disinterest. “Magistrates Umbria and Osturan both have daughters who will not inherit seats in the Forum. They’d make strong alliances, and Magistrate Trestis has a very handsome son.
His family owns more than ten miles of the southern coastline, and I’m told there is talk of a new port. ”
The hinges of the heavy door creaked as it finally opened, and a servant in a red tunic edged in a gold pattern appeared. It was the same design that had decorated the invitation to the feast.
“Welcome to Villa Casperia.” The man had been cleaned, trimmed, and dressed for the sake of appearances, but beneath the adornments, I could see the reflection of the Lower City in his eyes.
He stepped aside, letting us pass, and my gaze hungrily roamed the interior of the villa.
I couldn’t help but be curious. Everything I’d heard about the family Casperia was from Kastor, who painted them more as bloodthirsty dragons than political opponents.
The matriarch’s brother was Consul Saturian’s scribe, which her critics believed was the reason she’d been able to scrape together such an advantage in the Forum.
Whatever the reason for her success, she had Kastor walking a thin line of panic.
What was evident from the moment we crossed the threshold was that Casperia had spared no expense for the party.
The celebration was themed after the colors and symbols of the goddess Eris, and it served as a rare chance for Magistrate Casperia to flaunt her riches before the whole of the Citadel District.
No one in attendance would question the wealth of the family, and that held a different kind of power from the judgment stone.
Garlands of fragrant red blooms were draped from the ceiling, and the faint glow of godsblood made everything look like a dream.
It was everywhere—visible in the jewels that adorned the women’s necks, the trim of their gowns, and the golden chalices perched in their delicate fingers.
It glinted in the low lantern light, filling the room with an ethereal aura that was almost disorienting. The sight of it made me sick.
Kastor made his best attempt at composure as his eyes scanned the splendor, but I could see that he was already seething.
Before us, the entry hall opened up to an enormous atrium, where trees planted in glazed pots were arranged in varying sizes and species.
Gilded cages filled with birds were strung from the branches, and the shadows of fluttering wings were cast on the walls and ceilings.
Three tiled steps took us down to the floor of the atrium, making the entire spectacle feel like an enchanted forest from one of the great myths.
I searched the faces around me for Vale’s.
The sons of Magistrates were trained as future Centurions, while the young legionnaires from the Lower City were engineered for frontline battle.
It had taken years for the recruits to stop considering me one of the lowborns, and that had been mostly because of my friendship with the Consul’s son.
My uncle’s demeanor transformed into his well-rehearsed performance as soon as we crossed to the center of the atrium.
He shook the hands of the guests as if he himself were the host, his charm making him look a little less like he was dying.
He was known for that skill as well as his inspiring oration, and that was what would be expected of me, too.
His elbow tapped mine with the reminder.
I turned to stand at his side, where he was already introducing me.
“My son, Matius.” He set a hand on my shoulder in what would appear as an affectionate gesture.
That word—son—still made me stiffen, and not because it felt like a betrayal to my mother. I didn’t like that it made people expect me to be like Kastor. To follow in his footsteps.
I gave a wooden smile to the Magistrate he was speaking to, an elderly woman who was just bones beneath her luxurious chiton.
“I know I speak for many when I say we’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she said, teeth flashing.
Kastor was already listing my virtues, sparing me the responsibility of a reply.
This was the part of the performance I hated most. Casperia had built her advantage in the Forum on the pretense that she was a defender of the Lower City.
A voice for the people who didn’t have one.
What better way for Kastor to undermine her than by showing off his own lowborn son?
But as his voice drawled on, my attention drifted, following a stroke of bright emerald green flitting in and out of view between the plants in the atrium.
The sound of my uncle’s voice faded as a young woman appeared and then vanished, hidden by the wide, flat leaves of the potted trees.
Glittering gold earrings peeked out from beneath dark brown hair that fell over her bare shoulders, and my head turned almost involuntarily, following her.
When she finally reached the atrium, the light caught her face.
Her dark, focused eyes took in the party, moving over the figures that filled the villa with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Not that one.”
My uncle whispered lowly near my ear, playing off the exchange before anyone noticed. But I could hear a hint of what sounded like trepidation in his voice. That was new. I’d never known Kastor to be afraid of anyone.