Assassin's Heart (27 page)

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Authors: Monica Burns

BOOK: Assassin's Heart
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“But,
Domina,
I cannot protect you, and the boy, if you don’t come with me,” the tall man
protested fiercely.

“We both know you will not escape detection if you leave with the two of us. You yourself
said you’ve seen Octavian’s men near the rear of the house.” She shook her head
vehemently. “No. You must see to Demetri’s safety first. By the time you have given him
into the care of my aunt, Maximus will have come for me. We will join you in
Civitavecchia.”

She knew it was unlikely Maximus would reach her before the mob breached the front
door. Posca knew it as well. She could see it in his face.

“I must insist,
Domina
. I gave my word to the general that I would protect you and the
boy at all cost. I will find a way to get both you and the child to safety.” Posca’s voice
was harsh with frustration as he tried to change her mind. She raised her hand to stop
the man’s objections.
“Maximus will know you had no other choice but to leave me behind. I want to ensure
Demetri is safely away from all this madness.”
“But,
Domina
—” The bodyguard glowered at her as she interrupted him.
“I’m with child,” she exclaimed with a catch in her voice. “I would only slow you down.”
The man’s face paled at her words. He muttered something violent under his breath
before he shook his head.
“If you do not come with me, it is not only you, but the babe as well, that you put into
jeopardy.”
“And you know what they will do to Demetri if we’re caught,” she said with a sharp hiss
of anger. “I will not have my son sold into slavery.”
“Then let me find a safe place in the city for the boy. I’ll return for you, then the three of
us will go to Civitavecchia.”

“I can’t risk someone I don’t know protecting my son, Posca. He will go with you. I will
be well enough until Maximus comes for me. And he will come.” Her hand trembled as

she waved the man away. “Now go. Quickly.”

With a final grunt of frustration, the man bowed and hurried away to do as ordered. Left
alone to her thoughts, the shouts outside the house were like razors biting across her
skin. Maybe she should let Posca take her away with Demetri. No, they’d be watching the
house, and it would be easier for the bodyguard to sneak Demetri out past the spies than
if she were to go with them as well. And she would slow them down. The stress of the
journey could easily cause her to lose this child as well. She’d miscarried their last child,
and she would do nothing to risk the life of this baby.
The baby kicked her again, and she smiled as she touched her gently rounded belly. She’d
not yet told Maximus about the child, but already she knew it was a boy. He’d be pleased.
A loud boom echoed past the main entryway into the atrium. The cries outside
intensified, and slaves came racing into the atrium from all directions.
The sound came again, and her heart slammed into her chest. They were trying to break
the door down. Demetri. She raced toward his bedroom only to meet Posca carrying a
large sack on his back with Demetri inside. Her son grinned at her, and tears blurred her
vision as she pressed her mouth to the boy’s forehead.
“You’re about to have a wonderful adventure,
mea delicia
, and I want you to do exactly
as Posca says, do you understand?” She waited for him to nod his head, but instead he
put his finger against his mouth to indicate silence. With a smile, she touched his cheek.
“That’s right,
mea cor
, you must be very quiet.”
A mischievous smile on his face, he ducked back underneath the flap of the sack. The
pounding on the front door increased, and she grabbed Posca’s arm.
“Go. Go now,” she said fiercely.
“Come with me,
Domina
.”
“No, it’s Demetri you must save now. I shall wait here for Maximus or your return.” The
instant she spoke, she knew she’d never see either Posca or her son again. Her heart
splintered into a thousand tiny shards, and she clasped her hands together in a tight grip
not to pull Demetri from the sack over Posca’s shoulder. “Go.”
“I will protect the boy with my life.”
His expression grim, the servant bowed his head in her direction then moved with great
speed toward the back of the house. As the front door to the house cracked behind her,
she watched Posca disappear carrying Demetri over his shoulder. When they were out of
sight, she turned and moved to stand in front of the impluvium. It wouldn’t be long now.

More slaves came from different areas of the house, clearly frightened. She quietly
reassured them and ordered them to go about their tasks. Adela remained with her, and
she knew better than to tell her to go. The freedwoman wouldn’t listen. She was loyal to a
fault. The booming noise increased, and with each loud crash, the door groaned its
protest.

Minutes later a violent crack split the air around her, and the door gave way to a mad
rush of people. The house slaves who had disobeyed her orders scurried for safety the
moment the door crashed inward. Alone in the middle of the atrium, except for Adela, she
faced the angry horde that stormed into the house. Determined not to show any sign of
fear, she managed to maintain her composure as the mob entered her home. The shouts
and cries slowly died away as she faced them in silence.
Dulcis Jupiter give her the strength not to yield to the terror spreading through her
limbs. She wanted to run, but she wouldn’t. She was the daughter of Gaius Quinctilia
Atellus and the wife of Maximus Caecilius Atellus, one of Rome’s greatest generals. She
wasn’t about to let these filthy fanatics know that inside she was shaking like a lamb
knowing it was about to be slaughtered.
Suddenly, the crowd parted, and her heart slammed into her chest. Octavian. The man
wore a cruel smile, his demeanor one of supreme confidence. The tribune helmet he
carried was quickly handed off to the young officer with him before he bowed in front of
her.

“As beautiful as ever, Cassiopeia.”

“To what do I owe this … pleasure?” She paused for just long enough for him to know
she was insulting him.
“Your husband has failed Maxentius. Their armies have been defeated. Constantine is on
his way into Rome as we speak.”
“Maximus.” Swaying on her feet in shock, she barely breathed the word, but it was
enough for Octavian to chuckle.
“He’s not been found yet, but when he is, his life will be forfeit.”
His words made her draw in a breath of relief. He wasn’t lying to her. If Maximus were
dead, Octavian would have gloated. She stiffened her spine and met the Praetorian’s
gaze with disdain.
“Maximus will kill you if you do anything to harm me or our son.”
“I’m grieved to hear you think I would harm you,
mea dulcis
. You know I’ve always
cared for you, Cassiopeia,” he said softly. For a brief moment, she thought she heard a
note of sincerity in his voice. It was gone before she could be sure.

“Then why are you here?” A second later, his hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging

deep into her side. The painful grasp tugged an unwilling gasp from her.

“But for your protection, of course,
mea karus
. In fact, you need not worry your pretty
little head about anything. Despite the fact that you’re a heretic in the eyes of the Church,
I’ve no doubt you will find it easy to repent your heresy to save your son.”
The thought of Posca having just left made her flinch. Octavian saw her expression, and
his gaze narrowed with assessment. Without hesitating, she threw up a mental barrier
around her thoughts. It was something Maximus had taught her in the event a moment
such as this came. Neither of them had ever believed it would happen. Deliberately, she
filled her thoughts with images of Maximus destroying Octavian to help her forget her
son’s departure.
Octavian’s grip on her arm tightened as he realized she was hiding something. With a
jerk, she pulled free of his grasp to stand rigid in front of him. She refused to show any
sign of weakness in front of this
bastardo
. And she needed to keep her wits about her to
ensure the man didn’t suspect that Demetri was no longer in the house. All Posca needed
was a short time to get far enough away from the house to escape Octavian’s men.
“Do not threaten me, traitor.” She stiffened as he cupped her breast, his thumb running
across her nipple in an insolent gesture. Revulsion shuddered through her at the vile
touch.
“You have only to sleep in my bed, and I’ll let you live.”
“Pig.” She didn’t think twice as she spit in his face. Her punishment was a brutal slap
that dropped her to her knees.
“You just signed your death warrant,
mea karus
. You know far too much about the
Tyet of Isis
, and clearly you cannot be trusted,” Octavian snarled. “Take her.”
Someone dragged her to her feet and pushed her roughly toward the door. Behind her,
Adela released a scream of grief, which was cut short a moment later. Cassiopeia didn’t
have to look back to know the woman who’d been her confidante and protector for years
was dead.
Maximus.
She knew he was dead, otherwise he would have been here before Octavian. He would
have come for her if he could. What she didn’t understand was why she still felt him. It
was as if she could feel his warmth, his touch. Hope whispered through her, and she
raised her head to search the crowd lining the street. Was he here? Was it part of a plan
to rescue her?

The sensation slowly ebbed from her, and her heart grew numb. He was dead and so was
her heart. Inside, the baby kicked her, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She fought to
keep the tears at bay. She and the babe would meet Maximus in the Elysium Fields. Then,
when it was time, their son would join them. But for now, Demetri would be safe from the
likes of Octavian and his fanatical followers of the new church.

A sharp jab from behind forced her to walk faster, and this time she couldn’t hold back
the tears. Everything she’d ever loved had been ripped from her simply because of a
small box with a secret inside. It would destroy the Praetorian Guard. Once Octavian
had the
Tyet of Isis
, he would control who lived and died. The balance of power had
been broken as Maximus feared and their lives lost because of one man’s craving for
power.
THE sound of a car blaring its horn jerked Phaedra out of the dream as late-morning traffic echoed in the street outside the room. Fear flooded her senses, and she clutched at the blanket as she came to grips with the fact that she wasn’t in ancient Rome. Relief slid through her as she recognized Lysander’s suite in the Rome safe house.
She closed her eyes again and drew in a deep breath as the emotions the dream had aroused in her swept through her again. Deus, to have to say good-bye to one’s child like Cassiopeia had was inconceivable. And to be pregnant, knowing she was going to die. She shuddered. The Sicari Lord’s wife had more courage than she could ever have. The memory of Octavian made her frown.
Nowhere in the stories she’d heard had there been any mention of the man. Maybe Lysander was right. Maybe these dreams were little more than her imagination running wild. Maybe Octavian was nothing more than an outlet for that dark image she’d seen while healing Lysander last night. She went rigid with shock.
There had been something so familiar about the darkness at the time she’d been healing Lysander. But it wasn’t until just now that she recognized the venomous presence. Her fists hit the sofa cushions. The rogue Sicari. The fighter who’d tried to kill Lysander had been the rogue Sicari. She was certain of it. She shivered.
It was the same malevolent presence she’d experienced at the Temple of Hadrian, and it explained Octavian’s role in her dream. The same darkness had possessed him as well. Octavian had to be a representation of the man who’d tried to kill Lysander last night.
Last night she’d been convinced that Lysander couldn’t have found the rogue Sicari, but every instinct in her body said that somehow he’d done just that. But how? With a grimace, she threw off the blanket and jumped up from the couch. Lysander had kept his word. He’d gone after the man because of her. Her heart skipped a beat. He’d gone after that son of a bitch because of
her
, not just because the man was a threat to the Order.

Lysander had gone out to defend her honor. The act of a man who cared. She drew in a sharp breath of hope before the reality of what had happened hit her. Deus, he’d gone after that
bastardo
without backup. In the process of defending her honor, he’d almost gotten himself killed last night, the dumb
bacciagalupe.
The man needed someone to rip

him a new one, and at the moment, Cleo wasn’t here, but she was more than happy to fill in for her friend.

Angry that he’d succumbed to the ridiculous notion of chivalry, she stalked across the room and charged into his bedroom.

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