Chapter 8. Before Luca #3
He discreetly took me by the arm, leading me toward the open doors of the terrace, and I could feel Casperia’s daughter still watching me, her eyes leaving a feeling of fire at my back.
We made our way down the winding paths that snaked through the gardens, Kastor silent and fuming beside me.
The terrace was enormous, with views that looked out over the city in all but one direction.
Oranges hung heavy on bowed branches and climbing roses clung to the stone.
Even the gravel beneath our feet was pristine and white—made of crushed seashells from the beaches at the coast.
It wasn’t until we were out of sight that my uncle rounded on me and his hand flew through the air, striking me hard across the face.
Sharp pain shot through my jaw, whipping my head to the side, and I let out a breath before I lifted my chin again.
Kastor was looking at me with a disgust that was almost palpable in the air.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he spat.
I didn’t answer because he didn’t expect or want me to.
This was the underbelly of my charming, magnetic uncle—the part of him that resented me because I wasn’t like him.
It was moments like this that he had to face the fact he was being forced to leave his seat in the Forum to a creature who wasn’t of his own making.
There was a steady stream of panic in that knowledge. It was always there.
“We can’t afford for Casperia to start talking about your undying allegiance to the Philosopher. You’ll be sitting at the lowest rung of the Magistrates by the time you inherit my seat.”
Again, I only stared at him, letting my silence reply for me. The thing that twisted his gut the most was that I didn’t care. About any of it.
“You will not embarrass me,” he seethed.
I took a step toward him, letting the fact that I was now a larger man than he was sink in. I was a legionnaire. If I wanted to, I could wrap my hands around his throat and watch him die in a matter of seconds. And sometimes, I wanted to. But there was a more painful blow I could deal than that.
“When you’re rotting in the grave, Uncle, I will take the seat in the Forum.
But I will cast the judgment stone according to my own mind.
There’s no threat you can wield over me, no marriage you can push me into, that will change that.
Your power, your influence, will die with you.
” I spoke calmly, letting each word land.
“And the next time you hit me, I will hit you back.”
Kastor swallowed, his face on fire. He stared at me for a long moment before he shoved past me, disappearing up the path.
As soon as he was gone, I crossed the garden to the edge of the terrace, where a silver tray with an open bottle of wine had been left.
I set my hands on the stone railing, looking out over the city as the pain in my face swelled.
It wasn’t the first time my uncle had hit me.
It wasn’t even the hundredth time. But I could guess it would be the last.
“You’ll never make it as a Magistrate.” A voice wove through the warm wind, making me still.
I looked back over my shoulder to see Casperia’s daughter standing in the path, framed by garlands of red geraniums. Instantly the shame of her having witnessed my uncle striking me twisted in my stomach.
The guarded, stoic look I’d seen on her face in the atrium was gone now.
It was softer. There was a glint to her eyes as she surveyed me.
“They’ll do a lot worse to you in the Forum. There, they cut you where no one can see,” she said.
I leaned against the railing as she took a step toward me, and when I saw the braided cord around her neck, I stiffened.
She was wearing a talisman, the sign of a devout Isarian who followed the gods, and the sight of it only made me judge her more harshly.
It was easy to have faith when you wanted for nothing.
Her hand lifted between us when she was close enough for me to catch the scent of her in the air. Gently, her thumb brushed over my lower lip and the breath held in my chest suddenly felt like a painful gust of wind. When she took her hand away, there was a streak of dark red blood on her finger.
She let the scarf draped across her arms fall into her hands, offering it to me. I stared at it, the dark green that matched her stola nearly black in the waning light. Her eyes dropped to my lip, where I could still feel blood dripping down my chin, and I pressed the silk there, wiping it away.
She took the bottle of wine from the silver platter and handed it to me, stepping up onto the stone.
I stared at her. “What are you doing?”
She tucked the length of her stola and the chiton beneath it into her belt so that the fabric swept up and across her thighs, revealing her bare legs. I swallowed hard.
She swung one foot over the railing, pausing when I didn’t follow. “Are you coming?”
I looked back over my shoulder to the glowing windows of the villa. “We can’t just…”
“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them. Not after that little speech you gave in the atrium.”
My eyes fell down to the perfect skin of her thigh. “Maybe I just can’t bear the thought of you ruining that silk.”
Her mouth flattened.
“Looks like it could feed a dozen families in the Lower City for a year.” I couldn’t help myself.
Slowly, her eyes darkened, and to my surprise, it seemed as if the insult meant something to her. “If you think I had any more choice about what I’m wearing tonight than you did, then you’re wrong,” she said.
My jaw clenched, but before I could speak, she was climbing down the vines.
I hesitated, checking the shadowed paths of the gardens one more time before I followed.
She reached up to take the wine as I lowered myself down, and when my feet hit the ground beside her, I saw the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
She sat on the marble ledge, folding her legs beneath her, and I watched as she raised the bottle to her lips and drank.
It was so dark that I couldn’t see the details of her face, but the godsblood in her jewelry glinted like tiny sparks.
The view of the Lower City from here was like a sea of stars, nearly every window lit with the celebrations of the First Feast. Most households were likely missing at least one member who served in the Citadel District, but I remembered the way the parties spilled out onto the streets and bled into one another.
The offerings piled at doorsteps and on household altars.
The Lower City didn’t have the same borders and boundaries that existed on this side of the river.
She passed me the bottle and I leaned on the ledge beside her. “Your mother won’t mind you leaving the party?”
“Oh, there will be a price,” she said.
“One that’s worth it?”
“I guess we’ll see.” She gave me that sharp look again, her eyes meeting mine so directly that I almost looked away.
I took a long drink.
“You lived down there?” she asked quietly.
I watched her, curious. “I did.”
“And do you miss it?”
I looked out over the blinking lights. “Some things I do. Some things I don’t.” But the answer wasn’t as simple as that.
“What’s something you miss?”
“Swimming in the sea.”
Her eyes widened in a childlike awe, catching me off guard. “Really?”
I grinned. “I used to leave through the gates in the evenings and go down to the beach. I would swim until it was dark and sleep on the sand, then wait for the gates to open at dawn.”
I could see her imagining it, the scene playing out behind her eyes.
“You’ve never done it,” I guessed.
Her face turned back to the view of the city, where the salt-tinged air rolled over the rooftops. “I don’t know how to swim,” she said softly, clearly embarrassed by the admission.
It didn’t surprise me. The residents of the Citadel District left the city only to go to their grand countryside villas. What did surprise me was that glimmer of wonder that had lit in her eyes, like the strike of flint in the dark.
Casperia fell quiet, letting the silence draw out between us.
I wasn’t sure what was happening here, and that made me uneasy.
Not even an hour ago, I’d been watching Casperia’s daughter in a kind of trance in the atrium, and now she was sitting inches away, looking at me like she was waiting for something.
Vale’s words about his father came back to me.
How he’d been told to watch me. To manage me.
That was how things worked in the Citadel District, and when I thought about it like that, all this made sense.
Magistrate Casperia had a reputation for getting what she wanted.
And she knew how to use her own beauty and charm to get it. Maybe her daughter had the same gift.
“What is this?” I set the bottle between us. “Did she ask you to come out here to find out what you can about Matius’ unworthy heir?”
Casperia flinched. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
I stared at her.
A bitter smile curved on her lips. “You don’t know me, Matius.”
“No. I don’t.” I didn’t look away from her, wanting her to catch my meaning. I wasn’t a fool, and I couldn’t be played with.
“Well, allow me to tell you everything you need to know.” She slid off the ledge, peering up into my face.
“I’m no different than the birds in those cages.
” Her eyes flicked to the villa windows above us.
“And neither are you.” She took the wine bottle from my hands, turning toward the narrow path that led down to the river.
“But there might be hope for you yet, Matius. Because you’re no good at this. ”
“What?” I called after her.
She disappeared, swallowed by the night, her voice softly drifting behind her. “Pretending.”