Page 3 of Firebird
“Romans.”
My throat went dry, fear tripping my pulse faster. “Are any of them—” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the question. But Jardani knew.
“Yes,” he growled. “One is a centurion.”
The tent flap popped open again. Kizzy and Kostanya swept from behind Jardani’s imposing figure.
“Romans are here,” whispered Kizzy.
“To watch the show,” finished Kostanya.
Our twin sisters, one year younger than me.
“Where did they come from?” Lela’s pretty eyes were wide and glittering. “There’s been no word of an uprising.”
No. This region had been faithful subjects to Caesar. Honor Emperor Igniculus with tribute, and the Romans left us alone. We weren’t fools.
Jardani shook his head. “There’s a Roman province across the Danube thirty leagues from here. Could be a scouting party from there.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Only four,” Jardani answered. “But that centurion.” He shook his head, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “If he wanted, he could kill us all.”
I pushed past Jardani and the twins, peering out through the sliver of tent opening. I spotted them strolling through the crowd toward the front. The three soldiers laughed, seemingly entertained by Hanzi’s juggling act, but the centurion who followed slowly in their wake did not. His red cape denoted his higher station. He stood taller than Jardani. The baldric crossing his chest held his gladius, the hilt glinting with fine craftsmanship.
His movements were fluid, lithe, a hunter’s steady progress toward the awaiting prey. His face was steeped in shadow till they passed a torch. I sucked in a staccato breath.
His face was too hard, too sharp, too arresting. His maker had cut him with an unforgiving blade, molding him into a beast of unquestionable dominance and terrible beauty. He stood off to the side of the front row, his dark gaze sweeping the audience. The gusting torch flame licked along his features, caressing into the shadows like a lover. Then it happened. Flickering flame caught the golden deep of his irises, touching the supernatural doors to his soul. If he had one.
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, knowing I looked upon the beast of legend. The one who filled our people with fiery nightmares,who stormed across the world and took whatever and whoever he wanted.
“Dragon,” I whispered.
Kizzy squeaked behind me.
“What should we do?” whimpered Kostanya.
Jardani gestured toward the north. “Slip off to last night’s encampment. Wait for me there.”
“No.” I followed my instincts, measuring the situation in a blink. “It is known and expected that the Bihari sisters close the show. Every show. That crowd out there is expecting us. If we run and hide, it will only anger them and alert the Romans that something is amiss.”
“But, Malina.” Kizzy’s chin trembled. “He’s a—a—”
“Yes. I know. And how far do you think we’d get if we ran and hid in the woods like thieves in the night? If we close the show without the final act, those villagers will want their coin back and cause a riot.”
I leveled on Jardani, who stared back, contemplating quietly. Finally, he cursed under his breath, then hung his head, hands on hips.
Lela stepped forward, her expression tight. “What do youfeel?” Besides Bunica, she was the only one who ever outright spoke of my gift. And they would never mention it outside family. To be an empath like me held its own dangers.
I turned my face back toward the tent opening, closing my eyes. Finding the quiet within, I reached out into the boisterous crowd, touching the life-light of every person. My gift allowed me to read the unique essence emanating from within a person.
When I found the centurion, knowing it was him by the stark potency of his life force, my empathic sense shuddered. I probed deeper, a feverish sweat sweeping over my skin, a vibrant cord of power pulsing through our connection. No anger, animosity, or violence trembled along the invisible thread I tethered to him. It was difficult to gauge from this distance, but odds were in our favor.
I opened my eyes and spun to them, shaking my head. “No aggression.”
Jardani gave a stiff nod, then moved closer to Lela. “Keep the dance short and keep your distance.” He cupped Lela’s face, his brutish hands gentle, tilting her face up to look at him. “Be careful,iubirea mea.”
I turned away from the intimate gesture. Jardani was a good man, and he adored my sister. Eventually, I’d forgive him for taking her away from me. Right now, my focus was on the crowd beyond the tent, roaring with applause. Peeking out, I caught Hanzi finishing with his flourishing juggle of flaming torches.
