Page 57 of Firebird
“Then why did you do it?”
“I couldn’t stop my dragon from what he wanted,” I answered too easily.
Her feline green eyes never wavered from me, letting my words sink in just as she pretended to ignore them. “So you’re saying that your soldiers are undisciplined and the dregs of the Roman military?”
“I’ve culled most of the waste. The men following and assisting Silvanus at the Celtic camp have been demoted and transferred to the farthest and most remote army from Rome.”
Her mouth parted in wonder. “Truly?”
“And others who did nothing but stand by and watch or who abused the prisoners after we’d won the field in Gaul have also been replaced.”
“Won’t that bring unnecessary attention to that… incident?”
“It will remind them that I am the Coldhearted Conqueror and that my commands will be obeyed or they’ll suffer the consequences. I require discipline and order. That is something they understand.”
Her breath quickened, pupils dilating as she seemed to be considering me and my actions. What she thought of them, she didn’t say. She glanced away when I would not.
“What do I do while you’re wandering the camp?”
“Whatever you like. As long as you don’t leave this tent.”
I gestured to the low shelf behind the war table. I always had Koskasupply me with a small library on campaign. The nights could be long and lonely. She seemed curious about my books back home.
“There’s plenty to read if you’re interested.” I angled my head lower, entranced by the ring of palest green around her pupils. “Can you read Latin as well as speak it?”
“Of course I can,” she snapped back, her brow furrowing. “My grandmother taught me well.” She looked over at the library of books and scrolls. “Though I’m not the devotee to philosophy that you are.”
Dipping my chin, I added, “There are plays and books of poetry as well. Koska will bring meals twice a day. We eat more sparingly on campaign.”
She shrugged. “Two Roman meals is a feast compared to what I was used to.”
My gut clenched, reminding me that she’d lived a hard life with the Celts on the run from the Romans.
“Besides,” she added, “someone recently told me to cherish what may make me stronger in difficult times.”
Her expression wasn’t mocking, almost as if she believed it. I hoped she did.
“I’ll be back before the afternoon.” I turned for the exit but stopped. “Don’t leave this tent, Malina.”
“I’m not a fool, Julian,” she said before turning to the shelves.
I pushed open the tent flap, the air chilly, and even so a hot rush flooded my veins. I couldn’t pinpoint what had caused the jarring sensation until it dawned on me how easily, how casually she’d used my name. Like we were familiar, like we were intimates.
Perhaps, that’s because we were. I knew she felt attraction for me as well as disdain. If I wanted her to understand, I’d have to be the braver one.
That meant risking my life. And I would. For her, it was a risk worth taking.
XVI
MALINA
He was not back by the afternoon. I’d read an entire book by a Roman philosopher who thought very highly of himself, yet still made some valid points on the ethics, morality, and responsibility of dragons. It must’ve been written anextremelylong time ago, for I’d seen little to no ethics or morality in the current dragons ruling Rome.
Koska had come in once with some bread, figs, and cheese. I’d devoured the meal alone, then spent the remainder of the day sitting at the entrance and peeking stealthily out of the tent flap.
I was mostly surprised at what I witnessed. Soldiers working togetheralongside slaves to build tents and fire pits. They’d even laughed together over a meal around a fire. One of the younger soldiers passed his water flask to the slave he’d been working with the whole day.
To my relief, Julian had told me the truth, that no one marched around in half-skin. They appeared so… normal. And yet, in my mind, the Romans had always been monsters. I never imagined them working amiably and laughing together.
