Page 12 of Firebird
Another memory flashed across my mind, when a Roman in half-skin had brutally clawed out the throat of Aodhan, a Celtic warrior and friend, who’d been trying to protect me. I had thought we might become more than that if the fighting had ever ended. He’d been kind to me when most of the clan was wary. Though they appreciated how I’d managed to manipulate the Romans who’d attacked them twice before, they didn’t understand my gift and stayed clear of me.
But not Aodhan. He’d smiled kindly, spoken softly. He’d brought me and Enid an extra hare when they went hunting, or a shoulder of deer for our larder. I sniffed back the tears but they came anyway, slipping freely as I wiped his blood spatter from my face and neck and the dirt from my body.
I kept glancing above the screen, expecting the master to burst through the door to finish what his soldiers had started back in Gaul. But the door remained blessedly closed while I finished washing.
There was a bottle of scented oil next to the bucket. Though it was impossible to wash my hair properly as I would’ve in the stream near the hut I’d shared with Enid, I did my best to use the oil and warm water to untangle the knots in it. I used the last bit of water to douse my head, the dirty water pooling around my ankles in the basin.
Quickly, I dried with a scrap of toweling, combed out my damp hair, and slipped on the green tunic, which hung loosely around my thin frame. It was made for someone larger, but it was clean and soft,and for the first time since we’d heard the roar of deathriders overhead, I exhaled a breath of calm and sat on the bed.
Ridding myself of the remnants of the battle and scrubbing my skin clean had somehow eased my trembling body, even while I waited to meet him. Again.
A knock came at the door. I jumped to my feet. There was a brief pause, then Ruskus opened the door. “Follow me, girl.”
I walked out behind him. For someone with a limp, he moved rather briskly.
“My name is Malina. Notgirl.”
He grunted as if he didn’t much care. Perhaps there was no need to make my acquaintance. The general might be preparing to sell me at the market. A surge of new fear washed through me, pumping my heart faster. I might be sold to a harder master. Or a brothel.
Squeezing my hands into tight fists, I tried to find that calm of the moment before, using my empathic gift to cool my thoughts. I took deep breaths in and out as Ruskus led me through the home.
We walked across a giant entranceway where the floor was inlaid with yet another red dragon, flying upward and blowing a stream of flame. I supposed this must be my master’s family sigil. The mosaic was intricate and colorful and must’ve taken an eternity to create by a talented artisan. Still, it spiked my anger.
Wherever I went in the home, there were constant reminders that I was in the lair of a dragon. A powerful creature who took what he wanted and ruled with fear and violence. But I couldn’t wear that fury on my face when I met my master. I needed to play the obedient slave so that I could discover the best way to escape.
Down yet another corridor on the opposite side of this home of endless hallways and rooms, Ruskus finally came to a stop outside a large arched doorway. He gestured for me to enter so I did. Ruskus stood at attention inside the double-door entry, his hands clasped in front of him.
I walked into a vast room with more arched doorways decorated with ornate columns leading to another terrace, though I was sure this was on the opposite side of the house from where the dragon dropped me. Beyond the veranda, lights dappled the city below. Rome.
“Have you ever been to Rome?”
I startled at the deep voice to my right. He stood mostly in shadow, but the dim light still revealed his bedchamber behind him. My instinct to flee gripped me hard, my pulse racing at what Fortuna had in store for me now.
“There is nowhere to run, Malina.”
I froze at the sound of my name on his lips. My heart skittered even faster. “I wasn’t planning to run.” Not yet.
He arched a brow at my obvious lie. “You may go, Ruskus,” he called across the room.
I turned my head to see the Thracian frown, pausing only briefly before he left the room and closed the doors behind him, leaving me alone with the master.
His gaze was cool and steady on me when I turned back to him. It was obvious Ruskus found it unusual to be dismissed, but that wasn’t the question poised on my lips.
“How do you know my name?”
“I’ve always known it.” He stepped farther out of the shadows, the glow of the oil lamps set upon shelves lining the walls illuminating his face. “Since that day I met you. I heard your older sister speak it.”
Lela.My heart twisted in acute pain. I refused to think of her now, the last moment I saw her. I wanted to stretch out my hand and yank my name from his mouth. He had no right to speak it. And yet, I couldn’t say a word, a new shudder rippling through my body, though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.
I wasn’t afraid of him—as I should be. So what was this new emotion shivering down to my bones?
“I have never been to Rome,” I stated coldly, finally answeringhis question. As if I would ever have reason to come to this ghastly place.
Those golden dragon eyes glowed in the dark, like it wasn’t simply the man who examined me with such fierce scrutiny. His dragon watched me as well. He was dressed—thank the gods—in a silken red tunic that stopped at his knees. And still, I could barely repress the image of him walking tall and proud and naked into his home less than an hour ago.
“I am Julian,” he stated simply.
Why did he tell me his name? It wasn’t as if a slave was permitted to call her master anything but dominus. Perhaps he simply wanted me to know his name in case I got lost in the city or escaped and, gods forbid, was captured and needed to be returned to him.
