Page 85 of Of Love and Treason
She held it out, but he didn’t take it. “You’rehim,” she whispered even though everyone else in the room knew already. “It’s illegal, whatyou’re doing. Everyone here could probably be fined or imprisoned, and you—you’re already in enough trouble.”
Valentine brushed his hands together, clearing the crumbs. His face sobered, voice quieting. “They know the risk.” The gleam of mischief returned as he winked. “And it most certainlyislegal. Just not emperor approved.” He crossed his arms and looked over his shoulder at the two families now joined by the laughing couple in the center of the cluster.
“Whatever his goal, the emperor can’t outlaw love.” He turned back to her. “The two families agree even with the risk. Farro is a legionnaire and he will still leave with his cohort as planned, but he will be fightingforhis wife instead of—Why are you smiling like that?”
“This is a crucifiable offense.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
He raised an eyebrow. “And that amuses you?”
“No.” Iris shook her head, her palla slipping to her shoulders. “You’re in all this trouble—you’re in hiding because you’re aromantic.”
His face lost the amusement and gained gravity. “I believe in love as God intended it to be. A man and woman bound together until death parts them. To love, serve, and honor each other, becoming a picture of Christ and His love for all of us. Loyal, steady, consuming.” He locked her gaze.
Her mouth went dry.
“No man-made law should prohibit what God designed.”
“Why haven’t you married then?” She took his offered hand and tried to keep her voice light.
He tugged her toward a table laden with more food than the few people in attendance would eat in an evening. He helped himself to a hard-boiled egg filled with a brown paste and drizzled ingarum, a fermented fish sauce. “The same reason you haven’t.”
“Have you been blind too?”
He grinned and swallowed the egg. “Maybe.”
She took a bite of the cake she still held. Sweet and light, it dissolved in her mouth around the caramel gooeyness of dates. Heavenly.
“Keeping her all to yourself, eh?” The old man who’d been strumming the lyre approached, an elderly woman on his elbow. He handed Valentine a cup of watered wine.
Valentine angled toward Iris as he made the introductions. “The bride’s grandparents Hezra and Luppina. This is Quinta Magia, called Iris.”
The old woman took both of Iris’s hands in rather cold and wrinkly ones and looked deep into her eyes. “It’s so good to meet you. We’ve been praying for Valentine to find someone foryears!”
“Oh, we’re not—I—I’m just—” Iris stuttered as Luppina leaned in conspiratorially and didn’t bother to lower her voice.
“He’s not a looker like my Hezra, and I worried he might not be able to attract a woman—but look how lovely you are!”
Valentine choked.
Luppina smiled sweetly at Iris as Valentine turned away, coughing and pounding the center of his chest.
Hezra grinned and lifted his cup. “Nice to meet you, miss.” He took Luppina’s arm.
“Enjoy yourselves.” Luppina flashed an approving smile at Valentine and hobbled away.
“Well,” Valentine croaked, his eyes watering. “As you can see, Luppina has the gift of encouragement.”
“I disagree with her.” Iris squinted, pretending to study him. “I don’t think it’s your looks that are scaring off the women.”
His mouth twitched, expression hopeful and wary. “No?”
She shook her head with a mischievous smirk. “I think it’s your choice of perfume.”
Halfway through the festivities, Hector’s two ex-legionnaires showed up to escort Valens and Iris home. Thunder rumbled as Iris arranged her red-orange palla over her head and shoulders.
“Sorry to drag you out in the rain.” Valens peered outside. “We should have left sooner.”
Iris shrugged. “People make too much of being warm and dry.”
