Chapter 17. Before Maris #2
“I’d make it so the seats in the Forum can’t be inherited.
” His voice was full of steady conviction.
Like he’d known the answer to that question for a very long time.
In the next five years alone, there were maybe a dozen seats in the Forum that would turn over to heirs.
It was a system that ensured nothing ever changed, but if seats weren’t inherited, the very fabric of the Citadel would be torn in two.
Part of me had hoped that he would say something foolish. That he would provide me with some evidence that he was just like every other man in the district who had power placed in his hands. But I’d also somehow known he wouldn’t.
“What about you?” he asked.
I didn’t have to think about it, but the words didn’t readily come to my lips, because I wasn’t sure I could trust him with them. I didn’t know exactly what we were doing here. It felt too much like irrevocable lines were being crossed.
“I would dissolve the factions,” I said, throat tight.
I expected him to make a joke or point out my hypocrisy, but he didn’t. He just looked at me like he was slowly reading the thoughts skipping through my mind. The very idea made me shiver.
The muscle in his jaw clenched, the tendons that wrapped around his throat tensing.
The same feeling that was twisting deep in my chest was visible in his eyes.
He looked out at the horizon, where one of the boats had raised its sail.
It was moving along the surface of the water, a tail of foaming white in its wake.
“The message you delivered to Vitrasian,” he finally said. “Did you write it for the Priestess?”
“What?”
“Did you draft the message for her?”
I hesitated. “No. Why?”
I could see him filtering the conversation in his mind, carefully picking and choosing what to say. “Does Ophelius usually have her novice deliver her messages?”
I gaped at him, a deep disappointment settling inside me. “I see.”
Matius looked confused.
“If you want information about the Priestess or her dealings, you won’t get it from me.” I started back toward the beach, but his hand found me beneath the water, pulling me back.
“What are you talking about?”
“I misjudged you, Matius. I take back what I said.”
“What you said?”
“That you’re not any good at pretending. I didn’t take you for a liar, but that’s what this is, isn’t it? What exactly did your uncle ask you to do? Get some piece of leverage he needs to wield in the Forum? Slip into Villa Casperia so that you can sleep your way into some position of power?”
“I could have done that weeks ago if it was what I wanted.”
I yanked free of his grip. “If you’re suggesting that I’m—”
“I’m not talking about you.” He cut me off, meeting my eyes so directly that the words instantly faded from my lips.
My face flushed hot, remembering what my mother had said about Magistrate Matius’ son.
“It’s not like a legionnaire to refuse one of my mother’s invitations,” I said, voice tight.
“It’s not like a Magistrate’s daughter to spend her days hiding in a temple.”
“I’m not hiding,” I snapped. “And I’m not a fool. I know when someone is using me.”
“I don’t care about the Priestess.”
“Then why are you asking me about her messages?”
“Because I’m worried about her.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, like he hadn’t meant to say them.
The muscles in his arms moved under the skin, straining.
“Vitrasian. I’m worried about her,” he said, more softly.
“I am not my uncle. I don’t care about the Forum or the factions.
I care about Vitrasian. I care about the people in the Lower City who carry Isara on their backs so that you can wear your silk and jewels and play your political games. ”
“I am not my mother,” I shouted, squaring my shoulders to his. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to hit him.
He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile just barely discernable on his lips. Like I’d surprised him. We stared at each other for a long moment.
“I think I know that,” he said.
I held my breath as he reached for me, stroking a thumb along my cheekbone and down my jaw.
The feeling of it made me go rigid, the burn traveling across my cheek.
I wanted to move backward, to put space between us, but the way he was looking at me, I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to be the first one to give.
“What are we doing?” I said, my voice weak.
He looked serious now, his eyes moving over my face. “Tell me your given name,” he said.
I didn’t think it was possible for the knot in my stomach to twist any tighter, but it did. It was a question I would have never dared ask someone I’d only just met.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I think I should know it before I kiss you.”
I swallowed, the taste of salt sharp on my tongue. My pulse was racing now.
“Maris.” My name was a whisper.
Before I could speak again, before a single thought could stop me, I was lifting up onto my toes, hands sliding across his skin. And I kissed him. My mouth pressed to his and my blood was suddenly running so hot that my heart felt like it was drowning in it. Like it was being held underwater.
He was still for several seconds before his fingers slid around my waist, down my hips, until he had a fistful of the linen sheath. I leaned into him like I’d kissed him a thousand times over a thousand lives. I almost believed I had.
I wonder now if there were any gods watching that day. If they knew what that kiss would mean. I can only hope they were the same ones I prayed to.