Page 50 of Of Love and Treason
Perhaps he needed a drink.
“He wouldn’t do something like that. What if someone took him? What if he’s in danger?”
“Have you received a demand for ransom?”
“No.” Beatrix’s voice broke.
“I’m sorry.” Pater shuffled through papers and tablets, either looking for something or attempting to appear busy. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Iris had spent enough time in the prison to know Pater sat at the desk most of the day perusing old accounts of war history and gambling with the guards. He was never busy. She felt her face flushing at his rudeness but didn’t dare call him out in front of Beatrix.
Beside her, Beatrix drew herself upright. “I would like to report a missing person.”
“You’ll have to see the Urbans for that. This is the carcer.”
“Can’t you help, Pater?” Iris broke in as Beatrix let out a squeal of frustration. “Can’t you call in a favor and have the Urbans look for him before the three days?”
Her father heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you, sir. Bless you.” Beatrix’s words emerged on a grateful sigh.
Iris stayed with her father after Beatrix marched out of the prison, leaving her dizzying scent behind. She turned toward her father. “What’s going on, Pater?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why weren’t you kinder to Beatrix?”
He sighed. “If I held the hand of every woman who came inhere looking for a lost man, I’d never get anything done. I did her a kindness.”
“Thatwas not kindness.” She crossed her arms. “What are you hiding? Do you know where he is?”
“I don’t have a Favius on my list.”
“Pater.”
He didn’t respond. The scrolls and tablets on his desk rustled.
Another thought prickled the back of her neck. “What was Tribune Braccus doing here?” She shuddered as she spoke his name.
Her father hesitated, then released another long breath. “What did he say to you? You came through the door with wolves on your heels.”
“I’d rather face wolves.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. She heard her father’s swallow from across the room. He stood, his feet scraping a familiar tread to the shelves, where she heard a clink and the bubbling of wine filling a cup.
“Just a few more days, Iris.”
She shook her head. What good would a few days do? She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until her father answered.
“I can’t tell you now. But soon.”
His words did nothing to soothe her fears. How many other promises had he broken?
“Are you coming home tonight?” The thought of returning to an empty apartment after running into the tribune made her legs shake.
“No, this is my night to stay.”
“Can I stay with you?” She took a tentative step toward the desk. “I won’t bother you; I’ll sit here on the floor. I just...”
“You can stay.” He returned the cup to the shelf and took her elbow. “Sit in my chair. I have some things I need to take care of.”
