Page 54
‘In the way of what?’
‘The crown. The throne. All of it.’
They silenced again.
‘Was there a part of you that hoped that I might fail in my ambitions?’ Claudia asked.
‘I… I don’t know,’ said Gia. ‘Maybe.’
An image crystallized in Claudia’s mind, of her and Gia living in obscurity, in a tiny Sicilian village. Marcellus was emperor and they cared little for the state of Rome. Only for their own survival, their own peace. It was a pretty, wistful picture.
‘Honestly, a part of me hoped I’d fail,’ Claudia admitted. ‘I am as surprised as everyone else to be here.’
‘I thought this was what you always wanted.’
‘That was… before you.’
‘See, I am the problem,’ Gia said. ‘You think they’re speculating because of your association with me, don’t you?’
Claudia flushed. The thought had indeed crossed her mind but now she felt ashamed of it. How could Gia ever be the problem, when she was her everything? She was the light and joy in her life.
‘The world is the problem. It would be far easier for us for live undercover if Marcellus was emperor, that is all,’ she said.
‘Undercover,’ Gia repeated, dully.
‘But… we cannot walk away. We have a responsibility to the people, to the goddesses. It’s bigger than just you and me. I have a duty. We can’t risk losing what we have already risked so much for. I have to stay, to search for the missing legion, to guide Rome, to defend it from Marcellus.’
‘We should go to sleep,’ said Gia, rubbing her face wearily. ‘It won’t seem as bad in the morning, with a clear head.’
In the quiet that followed these words, Claudia could still hear the protestors.
‘I hope so,’ she said.
Gia soon drifted off in her arms. Claudia stayed awake, stroking her hair and gazing down at her.
Gia was so good and pure. She didn’t belong in this world made for monsters. Claudia had grown up around monsters, she knew all their tricks and habits, but Gia was too precious to be squandered.
Claudia didn’t know what she would do if Gia died in the line of duty. Something inside her would snap. She would go wild, turn feral, and become a monster like Medusa, petrifying men to stone.
Fear made her want to withdraw or push her away, to keep Gia far away from her and her twisted circle of power, where everyone was endangered and nothing was certain.
The people who hated her would think nothing of hurting Gia to get to her, more so if they knew she was special to her. It was only a matter of time. If Claudia truly loved Gia, shouldn’t she do anything to keep her safe? If she loved her, shouldn’t she set her free?
And then she heard it. Movement beyond the folds of the red canopy curtains, stirred as if by a breeze.
Her blood surged, her heart pumping hard, fearing that one of the protestors had broken into the palace. She ignored the thudding of her pulse to listen intently, but she heard only the faint drifts of the hourglass and the dripping of a nearby tap.
Suddenly, the curtain was ripped open. Inexplicably, there he was. Her brother Decimus standing at the end of the bed, blood dribbling from his lips, the wound of a sword in his chest.
She blinked again and saw her father beside him, choking on his own poisoned vomit, his bloodshot eyes wide.
He used his last bit of strength to crawl onto the bed, slumping on top of her and clamping down on her wrist, his putrid dying breath wheezing out as he said:
‘You’ll be seeing me soon, canicula.’
Canicula. Little bitch.
Claudia jolted awake and screamed, her body on fire.
