Page 104 of Firebird
“Don’t worry,” Rhea assured me, taking my hand. “He won’t beat you unless you are disobedient. So”—she shrugged—“just obey his orders and all will be well.” She laughed but not nearly as heartily as before. “Don’t be the firebird tonight, Malina.”
I smiled back, knowing full well there was no way I could be anything but.
“Stand over here and let me get a good look at you.”
Ciprian’s voice skated across my skin like a slithering snake, raising gooseflesh on my arms. I set the tray of roasted meat and vegetables on the low table in front of his chaise, then stood behind it, wanting the table between us.
I was beyond pleased to see his entire shoulder wrapped in a bandage and another around his middle. He was shirtless due to his many gauze wrappings on his upper body and wore only a black skirt ending above his knees. His left eye was swollen and purpling, and there was another cut that ran from his jaw to his neck. Julian must’ve barely skated his blade, Ciprian escaping a fatal blow there.
While I took in all of the damage my mate had done to him, he perused my face and body at length, knowing he could fully inspect my naked form through the sheer tunic I was forced to wear. It was indecent, and exactly what I’d expect from a man like him.
I held my chin high and stared directly at him, not letting him see that I was in any way uncomfortable in my new garb.
“Yes,” he said at length, “I can see what Julianus is so bothered about. But tell me, witch.”
He paused while Rhea poured his wine, then she stood against the back wall of his smallish parlor for dining. His house was not nearly the palatial splendor of Julian’s—no marble floors or sculptures, nor the wide atrium filled with plants and a fountain. His home was at the foot of Palatine Hill, but still upon it, marking him a patrician. Yet it was obvious his family wasn’t the level of aristocrat as Julian. Not nearly so.
It all made me wonder how he was in such good favor with the emperor, who seemed to only delight in the company of the wealthiest, oldest families of Rome. Ciprian’s might be an old, aristocratic family, but they were certainly not the wealthiest.
“Tell me.” Ciprian grinned and stared like the demonic fiend he was. “How did you help the Celts defeat Bastius three times before Julianus showed up and took care of business?”
“I don’t know what you mean. How could a mere woman help warriors in battle?”
I kept my expression tightly blank, showing no emotion whatsoever.
He chuckled and sipped his wine. “A mere woman cannot. But awitchcan.”
“And what do you mean by a witch? Do you believe I enchanted the Romans my Celtic clansmen fought?”
“It was said you used some kind of witchcraft against them, made men abandon their legion and the battle itself. But strangely, no one who was there can remember anything at all.”
“And how would I have such a gift to persuade warriors away from the field?”
“Only a witch could. One who’s been touched by the goddess Minerva. Who’s been given evil powers to use against men.”
“I am not Roman, nor am I Celtic. I am Dacian, and we do not worship your gods.” That was a lie since I’d already worshipped at Proserpina’s altar, praying for the souls of my sisters, Enid, and family. “Why would Minerva give me such a gift? I’m not Roman.”
“Minerva is a spiteful goddess,” he said in a low, angry tone. “She thinks herself better than her father, Jupiter, and her uncles, Neptune and Pluto, who declare the rightful order.”
“The rightful order of what, dominus?” I asked, playing the curious, submissive slave.
He smiled and shifted, placing his hand over his crotch and fondling himself. “Of your place. Minerva would give her powers to any she thought could use it against mankind. Like she did with Medusa.”
A tremble of awareness sent a spray of chills down my back. I knew the story of Medusa. Bunica had told the tale to me and my sisters countless times. I never understood why she was so fascinated with a Roman story until I began to feel the power taking root inside my mind and soul. Until that first time I’d reached out with my gift and latched onto my mother when she mourned her father’s death, and I had tethered to her for the first time to stop her pain. It was instinct. I didn’t understand my gift, but I felt it living and breathing deep inside my flesh and bones.
And when Bunica retold the terrible story of Medusa and Minerva’s gifts after that, I understood the intense look in my grandmother’s brown eyes and the reason why she reminded us of the story over and over again. Minerva had bestowed these gifts on us. And now I was the only one left to use them.
“So answer me this, Malina.” Ciprian’s grating voice brought me back to the present. “Are you a witch?”
“Of course not, dominus,” I answered easily. But Iwasa womanfilled with a powerful mysticism, and I planned to use it on him with a vengeance.
He drank more wine, not touching his food, his eyes on me narrowing. “What does Julian say about me?”
“Pardon, dominus?”
“Don’t play coy. I know he talks about me.” He grinned as if proud of the fact. “And men like to talk after a good fuck. What’s he said?”
I clamped my jaw tight, trying not to answer, but his insinuation that I was nothing more than a body to be used by Julian stoked my ire. We were so much more than he could ever imagine, this pale shadow of a man next to Julian.
