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“What? Uncle. Please, I beg of you,” she falls to her knees. “Let me keep my boys.”
I turn from her as my men take hold of her. Her cries pierce the air as they drag her away. The Vestal Virgins part way, blessing her as she goes fighting.
Once back at the castle, I personally close the door on her and throw away the key, sealing her in for eternity. Just as I’m about to leave, I hear her whisper through the bars in front of the small opening in the door, her voice all hoarse from the tears she’s shed.
“Please, Uncle, may I name them?”
“Speak,” I say, not turning around.
“Remu and Romulus,” she begs.
“It shall be seen to,” I mutter.
With one last glance at Rhea, whose face is now marred by tears, I turn away, my mind burdened by the weight of what I have done.
"Let us return to the kingdom," I say, my voice steady as I address my men. "There is much to be done, starting with the preparations required to raise two new princes."
Together, we make our way through the stone corridors, the haunting wails of Rhea fading into the distance. The weight of the diamond grows heavier in my palm.
Chapter 3
Romulus
The year, 754 BC
The flame torches nailed along the corners of the gilded ceiling flicker golden light across my father's pale, sunken face.
Remu and I stand at his bedside, one on either side. I observe how weak and fragile the great Amulius looks. His chest rises and falls in ragged, tortured breaths that echo through the stone chamber. The linen garment clings to his thin chest, and when he lets out a breath, I see the outlines of his bones.
Guards wait outside, but we are alone with our father in what Remu and I believe are his final moments. At least, that is what the castle’s healer conveyed just moments before we entered the king’s chambers.
With gentle force, I grasp his clammy hand to ensure he’s aware we’re here. "Father, how fare you?”
“Eh, who is that?” His once commanding and powerful voice is now a whisper, barely audible above the crackling of the torches.
Remu leans in closer, his eyes filled with worry as he speaks, "It's us, Father. Romulus and Remu."
Lids flutter open slowly, revealing eyes clouded with pain and fear. He tries to sit up, but his strength fails him, and he sinks back onto the pillows with a weary sigh. "Ah, my sons," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath. "I feel Death's cold fingers upon me."
Fear grips me. The sentiment of the moment is not lost on me, yet that is not what gnaws at my mind. We’re not mere sons and fathers. We’re rulers, and when it comes to rulers, we must remain one step ahead.
“Father,” I ask, leaning closer, all the while keeping my eye on my brother. “Father, the people are worried. Rumors have spread.”
“Rumors?” Remu asks me, his neck jerking in my direction.
“Of our father’s death.”
“Well, he is not dead yet, Romulus,” my brother says as he prepares to argue with me.
“Not yet, Romulus. But he will be soon, and the people need to know who to look up to.”
Our father's sunken eyes dart between Remu and me, his expression a mix of exhaustion and something I can't quite decipher. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he struggles to sit up once more, his frail form trembling with the effort. "The people..." he mumbles, his voice barely audible, "they fear... uncertainty."
“So help us carve a concrete future, Father,” I urge him to declare an heir. We’re twins, my brother and I. For us, the laws of succession, for who accedes the throne, don’t carry any weight.
His eyes flutter, glassy and unfocused before they close. "I will live," he rasps. "There will be no need for a successor. I will beat...this thing...death."
Remu and I exchange a glance. Our father clings to power even as death's bony fingers close around his throat.
