Chapter 16. Now Luca
NOW: LUCA
It was still dark when the tribune woke me.
The sound of my name dragged me from shallow sleep and I opened my eyes to see him standing at the opening of my tent.
It took a few seconds to register that there was something wrong about this.
From the look of the light, morning was still more than an hour away.
As soon as that detail clicked in my mind I sat straight up, my consciousness coming so fast that I was dizzy.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
My first thought was Vale and that hole in his ribs. But the tribune’s hands instantly lifted before him in an attempt to calm me. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
I exhaled, rubbing my face with both hands. “Then what the hell are you waking me for?”
The tribune hesitated. “Roskia is coming this morning. I imagine he’ll arrive soon after dawn.”
“And?”
“And…” The tribune hesitated again. “You may not have time to…”
“To what?” I grunted, impatient.
“Pray.” His voice softened on the word.
I stilled, eyes lifting to meet his. This tribune had been paying closer attention than I’d realized. Every morning at dawn, I went into whatever temple was nearest to our camp and I prayed. But I hadn’t realized the tribune had ever noticed. I was sure no one else had.
When I said nothing, he took a small lit torch from the fire outside and ducked back in, lowering it to the lamp.
When the flames caught, the corners of the tent illuminated around me.
A smooth, unwrinkled tunic hung over the end of my cot and my bronze scale armor was already laid out, cleaned and shined.
On the table, my morning rations were set on a plate—half a small loaf of bread, salted fish, and a thick slice of hard cheese.
How long had he been up preparing for the morning?
He couldn’t have gotten more than two hours’ sleep.
“That’s all,” I murmured, dismissing him.
Without a word, the tribune disappeared, taking his post outside to wait.
I stood and picked up the armor, slipping it over my tunic before setting the breastplate into place.
The worn bindings slid together as I buckled the brooches, and I hooked the thick cloak at my left shoulder so that it fell down my back.
It, too, had been cleaned of the dust that had covered it only the day before.
I fastened the belt around my waist, leaving the sword but taking the knife, and tore a piece of the bread from the loaf.
I didn’t wait for the tribune to follow, pushing out of the tent and starting in the direction of the Illyrium.
The open doors were lit with orange light that spilled down the white stone steps into the square.
The tribune followed on my heels, a feeling I liked even less now that I knew how closely he’d been watching me.
The guards at the doors stepped aside as I entered, following the hallway to the chamber that held the altar. It didn’t matter which god or which temple, I’d take whoever was listening.
The tribune’s footsteps stopped at the door, giving me the privacy of the room.
The enormous marble slab was mostly whole, covered by figures of galloping horses in the waves of the sea.
Within their mouths, fires were lit, and the stone was carved so expertly that it felt as if those eyes were following me as I made my way up the aisle.
I knelt on the floor, taking a stick of incense from the agate cup to dip the coated timber into the golden flames.
I turned it slowly as I mouthed a string of words I’d had memorized for most of my life.
Here, kneeling in the Illyrium, the sound of my voice echoed in the way it never did at our family altar.
The sound reminded me of all those nights watching my mother waste away here.
I reached into my tunic, taking my talisman from where I kept it tucked beneath my armor.
The strand of dark braided hair was tied at both ends, fixed in a circle.
I pressed it into the palm of my hand, reciting the prayer again.
I believed in the gods. You’d have to be a fool not to.
What I didn’t believe was that they could hear us.
I doubted there was a wind strong enough to carry Isarian prayers to them now, but I lit the incense anyway.
I spoke the prayer again as the smoke encircled me like a shroud, the sweet smell of spice clinging to my tunic and my hair.
It curled into ghostly ribbons as the rolled stalk of frankincense caught fire, and its pungent scent poured deep into my lungs.
I didn’t pray for the city or the soul of my uncle or even for the war. There was only one thing I asked for. The only thing I cared about protecting. And I could only hope that her faith in the gods was enough for both of us.
Shadows flickered on the mosaic floor as legionnaires passed on the other side of the open doors. When one of the shadows appeared and stopped, I turned. A young man was standing at the opening, leaning close to my tribune. I could hear the low resonance of his voice.
The tribune nodded and turned to me, waiting for my acknowledgment before he came into the chamber.
“What is it?” I asked, voice still dragging with sleep.
“Neatus is asking to see you. Something about a thief caught in the Lower City last night.”
“And?”
“And they have them here in the Illyrium.”
I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
“They say they think they’re from the Citadel District. I thought you’d like to deal with it yourself before someone hands them over to Roskia.”
I sighed as I got back to my feet, leaving the incense to burn. I’d had to play a light hand when the legionnaires caught a fleeing rat from the Citadel District. Every week, there were more of them, but the tribune was right. We couldn’t afford any more trophies hanging from the bridge.
We followed the legionnaire back through the Illyrium to a circular chamber lined with several doors. We’d been using it as a temporary confinement for prisoners, but only one of the makeshift cells had a cluster of legionnaires gathered around it. Neatus was already waiting.
He straightened when he saw me, glancing at the door behind him. “Sir.”
“Thief?” I asked.
“That’s what I thought at first. She was out alone with no medallion. Didn’t think much of it until she ran. But then I saw her.”
“And?”
“Well, she just … she doesn’t look like she’s from the Lower City. There’s something off about it.”
“Did she give you a family name?” I asked.
“No, sir. She hasn’t said a word.”
I sighed. “Alright.” I gestured for him to move and he obeyed, stepping aside.
The door opened and the two guards waiting inside turned toward me.
The air was filled with a veil of smoke trailing up from the hanging lanterns.
It took a moment for my eyes to focus on the figure in the corner.
And in an instant, every muscle in my body tightened into a rope that wrapped around my bones.
I didn’t need to see her face, because I had every part of her memorized. There wasn’t an inch of her skin I hadn’t touched. There wasn’t a single curve on her body that I hadn’t pressed my mouth to.
Maris.
Her blue chiton was mussed, the hem smeared in mud where her half-untied sandals peeked out from beneath the silk. Dark hair fell over her shoulder on one side, the ends of it touching the ground in an inky black pool.
Several seconds passed as I stood there in silence, mind racing.
“Sir?” Neatus leaned forward to catch sight of my face.
I had to clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking, making me remember the talisman. It was still wound tight across my knuckles.
“Name.” I forced the word out.
There was a moment when I still hoped that when she looked up, I’d see a different face from the one I expected. But the way she stiffened when she heard my voice told me I was right.
Slowly, her head lifted from her arms and her chest rose and fell as her gaze trailed across the floor to my boots.
I could feel it as soon as it touched me, like the burn of the sun as it rises over the horizon.
It crept up the length of me until, finally, her eyes landed on mine.
As soon as they did, pain exploded in my chest.
Maris Casperia was only feet away. Alive. Breathing the same air I was.
I swallowed hard when I saw the blood dried at her lip. There was a bruise on her chin that was darkening, and once her arms unfolded from her legs, I could see the stain of more blood on her chiton. Spattered on her ankle.
“Why is she injured?” I managed to keep my voice even despite the strangling ache in my throat.
“She tried to escape. Ran for the river,” Neatus answered.
There were several seconds when I wasn’t sure if I was going turn around and put my hands around his throat. The look in Maris’ eyes said that she was wondering the same thing.
She’d made an effort to look the part of a lowborn, but she hadn’t done a good enough job.
It was the small things that people from the Lower City noticed—her clean fingernails and smooth, unscarred skin.
Even her attempt at simple clothes had missed the mark.
There wasn’t a single loose thread in the stitching.
Neatus stepped forward, waiting. “What do we do with her?”
“I’ll deal with it. Get your breakfast before the rest of the night patrol leaves you with nothing.”
Neatus didn’t look sure, but he wasn’t going to argue with me.
There weren’t many legionnaires who would.
He motioned toward the door and the two guards followed him out.
I stood silent, listening to the sound of their boots grow faint.
When they did, Maris let out a shaking breath, catching a tear at the corner of her eye with a knuckle.
She’d put on that cold, angry face she knew how to wear so well, but beneath it, she’d been terrified.
We stared at each other and I waited, trying to guess which of us would have the guts to speak first. But just when I thought she might, another voice was at my back.
“Centurion.” This time, it was the tribune.
I turned to him, and his expression was watchful. His eyes ran over me, as if trying to find the source of the tension in the room. It looked as if he could see that I was about to come out of my own skin.
His gaze went to Maris before it moved back to me. “It’s Roskia. He’s arrived.”
I looked at the floor between us, still trying to think.
Maris had been lucky the legionnaires hadn’t recognized her.
Recruits from the Lower City who hadn’t spent any time in the Citadel District most likely wouldn’t.
But the minute anyone born across the river saw her, there was a good chance they would know exactly who she was.
The tribune waited, and I changed my mind more than once before I spoke. I still wasn’t convinced I could trust him, but I didn’t have much choice now.
“Take her to my tent.”
His brow pinched. “What?”
“Clean her up. Get her something to eat.” I took a step toward him. “No one gets near her, understand? No one sees her. No one talks to her.”
Again, he looked at Maris, but after another unspoken question turned in the air between us, he answered with a nod.
I shouldered past him, and it wasn’t until I was out of the Illyrium that I was able to draw a full breath.
The sunrise had broken over the city, and I could feel her, that warmth drawing farther away with each step I took.
But it was never really gone. It never had been.