Page 28 of Of Love and Treason
Artemis looked between them and shifted to a crouch. Convus laughed and relaxed. “And what proof do you have of thistreason?”
Titus felt the corner of his mouth lift. “I’m a speculatore. I don’t need proof of anything to kill you.”
Artemis launched herself at Titus with a shriek, teeth bared. He stumbled sideways into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. The room dropped into darkness for half a breath before the pool of oil ignited in a burst of orange light. Artemis managed to rip out two fistfuls of hair before Titus twisted sideways, slamming her into the wall and off him. Petrius Convus bolted through the flames and made for the stairs. Titus swung after him, lashing out—and missing—with hisgladius.
As Titus thundered down the stairs after Convus, Artemis jumped him from behind, sending him headfirst into Convus. The three of them tumbled down in a tangle of arms and thrashing legs. When they came to a jarring stop at the bottom of the stairs, the tavern was silent. Titus picked himself up, panting. Blood streaked his arms. Convus lay crumpled at an awkward angle, the hilt of the gladius protruding from his back. Artemis gave a strangled cry and crawled under a table. Near the door, Titus’s men held two of Convus’s men at sword point. Everyone stared open-mouthed and speechless as Titus bent to retrieve his gladius and wipe it on Convus’s tunic.
He sheathed the sword and straightened his tunic as he headed for the door. “There’s a fire upstairs.”
He’d be reprimanded for killing Convus like that. Titus had hoped to get answers from him first, but running had been confirmation enough of Convus’s part in the scheme.
Titus touched the tender spot on his cheekbone. That crazy wenchhad given him a black eye, jumping him from behind, and his scalp stung. He would leave her out of the report. No one needed to know a woman had inflicted his injuries.
Titus paced his tiny office. Tucked deep into the Castra Praetoria’s record building, the “office” was little more than a storage closet crammed with several broken chairs, a wobbly folding desk, and boxes of outdated files written on tablets whose wax had gone too hard to erase and reuse. Titus had arranged it the best he could. He could pace two whole steps before he had to turn and go the other way. Still, having his own private space where he could think was a luxury unafforded in the barrack quarters he shared with nine other men.
Exhaustion weighted his limbs, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he tried. He had the restlessness that always accompanied a problem without a solution. Quintus might have been the one to run up all his debts, but Titus was the reason he’d had to, and that made it worse. He dropped onto a box of old files and rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn’t realized how deep a hole Quintus had dug for himself. Payment was the only way to call off the tribune, but Quintus wouldn’t be able to find money of that kind. Unless...
Titus fumbled through a crate of tablets, mentally calculating. If he could retrieve his salary from the Praetorian coffers, it might be enough to at least stall. He pulled a tablet out, his name carefully printed on the spine, and flipped it open, scrolling the stacks of numbers until he reached the balance at the bottom. Not as high as he’d hoped. Even if the monies were not frozen due to the war, the pithy sum would do little in the face of Quintus’s debt.
Titus replaced the file, wishing he’d taken the physical pay and put it in a bank in the Forum instead of allowing the money to remain in the Praetorian vault.Foolish.He left the makeshift office, stomping down the darkened hall, angry with himself. Iris was blind because of him. If he hadn’t been showing off... He sighed. Now what? There didn’t seem to be any other options.
IX
IRIS SAT ON THE BALCONYin the stillness that came long before dawn, waiting. The chill and damp of the night had not yet lifted, nor would it. The air hung heavy with imminent rain. A dove cooed and its mate answered. She relished the quiet before Silvia would begin barking at her slaves in the laundry below, signaling to Iris that she’d best get to the bakery.
Her father groaned. His bed creaked as he rolled upright and climbed from it. First a step, then a shuffle as his weaker leg dragged slightly. The wood floor crackled beneath his weight as he made for the kitchen.
Iris stood. “Good morning, Pater.”
“Iris.” Quintus’s voice was rough with sleep. “You’re awake early.”
“I’m not usually visited by Tribune Braccus in the evening.”
She heard a thump and a creak as he dropped onto the bench. “That was real?”
“Is it true? What he said?” She crossed her arms. Across the hall, a baby sputtered and started to cry.
Her father took a deep breath as if to explain but said only, “What did he say?”
She took a step forward. “That you were in debt because of me. A debt so deep you couldn’t pay it in four years, much less in four months.” She swallowed and went on when her father did not denyit. “And that he offered to pay the debt in return for me to become his... his...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
He cursed, not quite under his breath. “Come inside and shut that door.”
She obeyed but remained on the opposite side of the room.
Her father sighed. “I was going to tell you.” She heard the sound of callused hands rubbing against an unshaven face. “But I wanted to wait until I was certain we had no other options.”
“And then what? Surprise me on the day he comes to claim me?” She fought panic from her voice as he confirmed her fears. “I thought we did not keep things from each other, Pater.” Even as she spoke, she thought about Valentine and guilt pricked her conscience. She pushed it away.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about our finances.”
“I do when it concerns me being sold to pay your debts.”
She heard him rise and potter through the kitchen looking for something to eat. Bread clunked on the table followed by an amphora and two cups.
“I’llbe sold to a quarry to work off the debts.” He sawed at the bread with a knife. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“You were not protecting me when the tribune showed up last night and might have forced himself on me if Titus hadn’t intervened.”
