Page 3 of Of Love and Treason
“Posca!” the bartender shouted from the doorway of the Fine Falernian Wine Shop. “Served with class and no attitude!”
“We can pray now if you like.” Valentine’s tone was casual.
“Here?Now?” Her mind shuffled through the pantheon of gods, unable to think of one that didn’t require incense. “What kind of god—?” She stopped as understanding dawned. Oh no. “You’re a—aChristian?”
She whispered the word, too offensive to say aloud, and took a step back, mind running circles around the stories she’d heard about them.They kidnap children, drink blood, sprout horns at night.Untrue, of course—she was fairly certain.
He sucked in a quick breath as if to answer but didn’t get a chance.
“Iris? Iris!Thereyou are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Titus.
From the sound of it, her oldest and only friend hailed from the other end of the street.
She lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
“It was nice to meet you, Iris.” Valentine’s words came in a suddenrush. The sort that accompanied the appearance of a Praetorian Guard. “And Iwillpray for you.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you.”
Valentine’s retreating footsteps were replaced by the clack of Titus’s military-issued hobnailed boots as he crossed the street toward her.
“Who was that?”
She dumped the pebble into her purse. “Nobody.” Why the hesitance to reveal his name?
Titus’s pointed silence told her he didn’t believe it. Raised by Iris’s father, Quintus, after the death of his own, Titus Didius Liberare had always felt like an older brother to her, though she’d never been quite certain the feeling was equally returned.
“He said his name was Valentine.”
Titus’s voice strained as if he craned his neck to look for the stranger in the crowded market. “Was thisValentinebothering you?”
“He kept me from buying a worthless rock.” She sighed and resumed the trek toward the exit.
“So I don’t have to hunt him down and kill him?”
She smiled at his teasing and shook her head. “Not this time.”
The air hung still and heavy, and the day’s heat radiated from the stone street and building walls. At the street entrance, Titus took her arm and held her back.
“Let this litter go by first.”
“What are you doing here? It’s a rare day you leave your precious office.”
Titus’s voice went quiet. “I thought... it beingtoday, that I—”
“Would buy me some honey-roasted almonds?” Iris cut him off, hating the undercurrents of pity and remorse in his tone. She didn’t want another reminder of the accident. “If you insist. I accept your gracious offer.”
Titus chuckled and shelled out a few coins to the almond roaster, then set a warm palm-leaf bag of almonds in her hand.
They angled away from the market, sharing the treat as the streets narrowed with every turn, cooling as they dropped into shadow. A breeze, warmed by the heat from the brick buildings, carried apulsing stench from gutters clogged with sewage, rotting vegetables, and bones.
“Puddle.” Titus pulled and pushed her around obstacles in the street. “Broken stool... Mind the steps.” His voice changed, growing deeper and more serious. “Did you find anything in the market today?”
Her thoughts went to the pebble in her purse, but she shook her head.
“Pity.”
