Page 95 of Firebird
I wrapped my arm around his waist and snuggled close while he pulled a blanket over us.
“Your uncle,” I said softly, “is terrifying.”
Julian stroked a hand down my back over the covers, soothing me. “He’s a madman.”
“How did he turn out so differently than your father? Your father seemed a good man.” From what little I knew of him, he sounded like the polar opposite of his brother.
“Did you know my uncle was born in half-skin?”
I sat up, wanting to see Julian’s face. “Is that unusual?”
He nodded. “Most Romans are born either in human form or dragon.”
I winced. “How could a woman survive the birth of a dragon?”
“If they’re in dragon form or half-skin, there is a soft membrane that coats them. And they have no horns at birth.”
“Oh.” I exhaled a breath, and his mouth quirked into a smile at my ignorance. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” He stroked a hand over my hip. “Depending what form we are born, the gods tell us which will rule them most. The man or the beast.”
“Or the woman. There are female dragons.” I tried to tamp down the instant flare of jealousy at seeing that noble lady flirting with Julian tonight.
“Yes. When a dragon, man or woman, is born in half-skin, it is believed by some that the dragon will be forever twisted.”
“How so? A dragon in half-skin is simply another form of their animal.”
“No,” he said, staring at me while twirling a lock of my hair. “It is not. When in half-skin, we are neither man nor beast. We are an unnatural creature, both fighting for dominance. We’re taught at an early age how to control our bloodlust while in half-skin. It’s like the beast is fighting for domination when we are in between. It is never good to remain in half-skin for too long.”
I laid my cheek back to his chest. “You do on the battlefield.”
“And there, our primary goal is to kill the enemy. So there is no need for control. We can let our primal urges take hold. That is why after the battle is over, the general demands the men return to human form back at camp. That is also why it is illegal for a Roman to shift into half-skin in the city unless he’s attacked and needs to defend him- or herself.”
“I’d think your uncle wouldn’t care.”
“He doesn’t want random killing. He needs an empire to rule over, after all. Allowing dragon madness to take over would be disastrous to the citizens, particularly the plebs.”
“Why does he even care about the plebs? Seems he only cares about the needs of the patricians.”
“Because though the plebs don’t have the power of the dragon, they do hold the power of the people. If there is civil unrest among the plebs, he will be blamed and hated. And that sort of hatred bleeds into both classes when we all live and work in the same city.”
“There must’ve been civil unrest when he began taking dragon bastard children from homes and throwing them into the gladiator pits.”
He paused, his hand still ghosting softly up and down my spine in a soothing sweep. “Yes and no. There were some protests, of course, but my uncle took care of them quickly and quietly and by the cover of night.”
“He killed the plebs who protested?”
“Of course. Then he had the praeco give a long series of lectures to the public in the forum about the sanctity of marriage and that only children born in wedlock were true Romans.”
“That’s ridiculous. He can’t actually care about the sanctity of marriage? From what I’ve heard, he’s a whoremonger himself.”
“You don’t know the half of it. He’s beyond a hypocrite, but he does know how to manipulate. And he knows the tradition of Romans holding sacred marriage and family.”
“So he played upon their guilt and shame, the mothers who had children out of wedlock?”
“Yes. And he lied and told them that the gods would punish them by bringing dragon madness upon them, that the bastard children were an aberration and would go mad and kill them in their sleep.”
“What a horrible lie.” I thought of sweet Stefanos and how I knew in my soul he could never hurt anyone, least of all any of us, his family.
