Page 31 of Firebird
“Then there’s your friend. She’d be killed for her association with you. And you wouldn’t make it far, even with my coin. The emperor’s soldiers march the streets at night. The moment my death was reported, deathriders would be sent out in search of you. And they wouldn’t be kind in their capture of a murderess.”
My heart beat so hard, I was sure it would hammer right out of my rib cage. He gently gripped my wrist and steadied my quivering hand.
“It’s a foolish thought, Malina. Killing me won’t help you escape. It’ll only end in your torturous death.”
I stared, completely bewildered. “Did you know I would try?”
Not that I actually had tried. I wasn’t sure that I could do it, but I was certainly considering it with the sharp blade in my hand and his bare throat mere inches away.
“I know you’re thinking of ways to escape,” he said in that even, steady way of his, his thumb brushing along the pulse point in my wrist, which somehow calmed my trembling. “I would be if I were you.”
A strangled laugh came out of my throat. “But you’d never be in my position.”
“You never know,” he added so easily, with a pensive expression creasing his brow. It was strange for him to say something like that. A powerful dragon and Roman such as himself would never find himself held captive as I was.
“I want you to see that there is no way free of here that doesn’t end in death,” he added. “This isn’t some woodland clan you can slip away from into the night. You’re at the heart of Rome, surrounded by your enemy.” His grip firmed and his voice deepened. “You must trust that I will keep you safer than any other.”
“Trust you?” I huffed another laugh. “My slave master?”
“Yes.” He softened his tone, his thumb sliding sweetly over the thin skin of my wrist before he let me go. “Now that your hand is steadier, let’s try again.”
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as if he hadn’t nearlycaught me about to murder him in his own bedchamber. The level of trust he had that I wouldn’t cut his throat anyway was astonishing. I refused to believe that he knew me so well, because the fact was that he was right. And though I might be reckless, I wasn’t a fool.
Inhaling a deep breath, I blew it out slowly, then pressed the blade to his skin and scraped the bristles up the side of his neck to his jaw, wiping the excess on the rag. Then I repeated the movement over and over until I’d shaved his throat and jaw clean, having only nicked him slightly at one sharp curve. After dabbing his face with the rag, he sat up and felt his face.
With a grunt, he stood. “You won’t have to serve my dinner tonight, but I’ll expect you in the morning as usual.”
A pang of disappointment had me frowning, but I kept my gaze averted as I cleaned up the vanity table holding the shaving instruments. “Where will you be tonight?”
He seemed to pause behind me before he moved again, the shush of fabric brushing fabric. I wiped the table clean of spilled oil and turned to face him.
He’d draped a simple sash of red across his tunic, the fabric hanging in loose folds at his hip.
“I have a feast to attend at the emperor’s palace.”
“To celebrate your recent victory over the Celts?”
He scoffed as he refolded the red sash at his waist, though it already looked perfect. I was surprised he hadn’t made me dress him as well, but he seemed in a hurry. He likely didn’t want to teach me yet another duty that might make him late for whatever work he had to attend to in the city.
“Yes, Malina.” He seemed perturbed. “The emperor likes his victory parties.”
“Emperor Igniculus. Youruncle.” I couldn’t hide my distaste.
He lifted his gaze to mine and stared a moment. I thought he might say something more but he simply clenched his jaw and walked pastme, then out of the bedchamber into the corridor, his heavy footsteps fading away.
“Reckless,” I whispered to myself, knowing my sister Lela would chastise me for it if she were here.
I never could hold my tongue when I ought to. What was he supposed to say, that he might be the emperor’s nephew but he wasn’t a cruel dictator like his kin? That would be a foolish hope. He might not have abused me, but he was still a part of this frightful, monstrous machine of Rome, the one that kept burning and killing and taking more lives for their own pleasure.
It was appalling.
“I should’ve cut him when I had the chance,” I muttered as I set about to make his bed.
Even if I died for it, at least there would be one less tyrant in this world.
VIII
JULIAN
