Assassin's Honor (34 page)

           
He'd asked her to trust him, and she had, only to have him betray her. And she had no reason to believe anything else he said either. The memory of his fingers stroking her intimately made her wince painfully. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat as the sting of his deceit swept across her skin. It was as harsh as an icy wind.

           
Ares's eyes narrowed and she fought to keep her dismay hidden. She jerked her gaze away from him to look at his godmother. The look of curious puzzlement on the woman's face only made Emma feel more of a freak than she usually did.

           
"I'm not sure what your godson's told you, but I doubt I'll be of much help with your artifacts. My understanding of the Sicari culture is minimal at best. And those who did know something have all been murdered. So even if I did have a special gift"--she sent Ares a blistering look of contempt"--I sure as hell wouldn't admit it because I'd most likely be next on the list, even though I don't know jack."

           
"Deus damno id, Emma.
I told you I won't let anything happen to you," Ares said harshly as Atia looked on with displeasure.

           
"No," Emma said coldly. "Not as long as you have a use for me."

           
"Christus.
I'm not--"

           
"Why do I think you didn't bother to consult Miss Zale about the artifacts, Ares?" The Prima Consul heaved a sigh of disgust as she turned her head to Emma. "Miss Zale, forgive my godson. He obviously needs his head examined. I, for one, would be grateful for any insight you might offer on the artifacts we have, even if your knowledge is limited. Fresh perspectives are always good. And hopefully this cipher your father left you will prove useful. Have you had any success with it?"

           
"I decoded a couple more lines last night while Ares slept. As soon as it's done, I'll turn the translation over to you."

           
"Excellent." The Prima Consul studied Ares for a long moment before she sent a hard nod in his direction. "I'll make sure it's Ignacio who validates your recovery this evening. The two of us will see to it that no one challenges your . . . amazing recuperative abilities and that the Council grants you Indulgentia for blood bonding with an aliena."

           
Ares went rigid, his expression harsh and unyielding as he met Atia's hard stare. The disapproval on the woman's face as she turned toward Emma said the Prima Consul was well aware Ares hadn't recovered so easily on his own volition. Heat rose in her cheeks as Atia frowned at her. It was evident the woman believed Emma was somehow responsible for Ares's miraculous recovery. But there was something else in the woman's gaze too.
A glimmer of gratitude?
A moment later, she released a silent sigh of relief as Atia turned her gaze back to Ares.

           
While his features revealed nothing, Emma could read the shame and disgrace in his stiff posture and the corded muscles of his arms and neck. She might be angry about his betrayal, but it was impossible not to feel some regret. He hadn't asked her to interfere, and yet she had. Suddenly, Atia made a small noise of what sounded like exasperation as she looked at Emma.

           
"Why don't we leave my godson to collect his wits and his
clothing.
I'll take you to our research library, where you can examine our artifacts and work undisturbed on your father's cipher."

           
Atia directed a stern look in Ares's direction as she headed toward the door. Emma sprinted after the woman, only to have Ares immediately block her path. His hand caught her arm in a steely grasp and he bent his head toward her.

           
"We'll discuss this later, Emma," he murmured with restrained anger. "There's no need for you to fear your gift or the use of it."

           
"I'm not afraid of it. I just don't like being used for it." She jerked her arm free to stalk after the Prima Consul. She paused in the doorway and sent him a wintry look. "And do me a favor--stay away from me."

           
EMMA raked her trembling fingers through her hair then focused her gaze back on the paper in front of her. No matter how she decoded the damn thing, it still read the same. She brushed her fingertips over her handwriting with a rising sense of frustration. The harsh breath of exasperation she released sounded loud in the quiet of the small research library.

           
She quickly glanced at the only other occupant in the room, but the stranger was too deep in thought to notice her. Two days ago, when she'd translated the second portion of the cipher and read about her father's fears that the Institute was spying on him, she'd been stunned.

           
Her first inclination had been to believe it was the Sicari watching him, not someone inside the Institute. After all, Ares had said they'd been watching her parents for some time. It had made sense.
But now this?
It turned everything upside down.

           
Trust no one with this secret. I'm certain the Tyet of Isis exists. I've found several clues to its location and hope to find more when we return to Dawwar. I think the Institute is spying on me. My university office has been broken into twice now. As a precaution, I hid something for you in the secret cubbyhole. Trust no one at the Institute. A colleague I knew years ago, Atia Vorenus, may be helpful. You can trust her. I think she's still with the Sorbonne. I love you, Emma.
Dad.

           
What were the odds of there being more than one Atia Vorenus on the planet?
Small, but possible.
Of course, the first time Atia had brought her to the research library, the woman had casually mentioned that she'd studied at the Sorbonne in Paris. That reduced the odds to virtually nothing. At the time, she'd thought nothing of it. Most major universities had archeology departments and the Sorbonne was no different. But looking back on the conversation, there had been
an intensity
about the woman's manner that said she was hoping for some recognition on Emma's part. Her father's message had to be referring to the Sicari Prima Consul. Or maybe there were two women with the same name. God, she didn't know what to think. She was so confused. Whom could she trust?

           
She ignored the immediate answer to her question. No. She couldn't trust Ares. He'd used her. The anger welled up inside her again, and she drove her thoughts about him out of her head. She didn't want to think about him at all. God, she was a lousy liar even when she tried to lie to herself. The sound of soft voices intruded on the silence, and she looked over her shoulder to see Atia and Ares standing in the library doorway arguing.

           
Emma quickly slid her translation under her scratch paper. She wasn't ready just yet to tell anyone she'd solved the cipher. She needed more time to think. Another peek over her shoulder and her gaze locked with Ares's penetrating look. Her heart slammed into her chest as their eyes met.

           
For the past week, she'd refused to talk with him. Every time he came near her, she'd taken off in a different direction. It was easy to see he wasn't happy about it. Frustration thinned that beautiful mouth of his into a firm line, but there was a determination in his gaze that said he wasn't going to be put off for much longer. With a glare at his godmother, he spun around and disappeared.

           
The breath she didn't realize she'd been holding slowly eased out of her. With her heart pounding, she turned back to the papers in front of her. Even from a distance, he had the ability to make her knees wobble. Not good. In fact, it was damn irritating that he affected her at all. He'd brought her to this remote estate in Michigan because it suited his purpose. It didn't get any simpler than that. Well, except for those few blissful moments in his bathroom.

           
Even now, she was still reeling from that brief interlude. It had left her shaken in more ways than she cared to admit. Jonathan had never rocked her world the way Ares had the other morning. For Ares, it had been nothing more than just sex. She knew that. But God only knew what a woman would experience when he actually made love to her. A sliver of disappointment slipped under her skin because she wouldn't ever know what it would feel like. The thought made her hand curl up into a tight fist. What a fool she was.

           
A light touch on her shoulder made her jump. She turned her head to look up at Atia. The woman's face was almost wrinkle-free and her features were classical. Her face resembled some of the paintings Emma had seen in Roman frescos. Dressed in jeans and a bright turquoise shirt, the Prima Consul looked young and vibrant. Not a day past forty. But if Atia was the woman her father had known, she would have to be much older.

           
"You've a talent for frustrating my godson,
cara
." The Prima Consul smiled at her with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "If I didn't know better, one might think you of Italian descent yourself."

           
"It's not my intent to make him feel anything. I simply want nothing to do with him."

           
"You're both stubborn. One of you will have to give way eventually. The question is who." The older woman laughed and took a seat at the library table opposite Emma, and set a small wooden box on the table in front of her. "I for one would love to see him forced to bend just a little, and I think you're the woman who can achieve that."

           
"I doubt that. Once I'm free of this blood bond, we'll go our separate ways." She stared down at her palm and the cut that was healing. "Although where I'm going to go is a mystery since I don't have a life any longer."

           
The bitterness in her voice made Atia frown.
"Emma, I know the past two weeks have been quite difficult for you. But if you let me, I'd like to be your friend."

           
"Why?" she bit out with fierce suspicion. She was learning the hard way that no one ever did anything just to be nice. And she still wasn't sure she could trust this woman, even if she was the Atia in her father's message.

           
"Because you and I have something in common," Atia said quietly.

           
The leader of the Sicari hesitated and looked down at the box in front of her. The pensive look on the woman's face made Emma relax slightly. With a small, wistful smile, the Prima Consul opened the box and pulled out an object wrapped in white silk. She carefully unfolded the silk to reveal a small stone cross. Even without close examination, it was easy to see the cross was several hundred years old. Emma narrowed her eyes at the woman and shook her head.

           
"What do you want from me?"

           
"This cross was given to me by someone I loved very much," Atia said. "And it can tell you quite a bit about me."

           
"I'm not sure what you mean." Emma looked at the cross then met the other woman's arched look. "How can a cross tell me something about you?"

           
"Actually, it can tell you a great deal." With a slight movement of her fingers, the artifact rose up from the table by an invisible force then slowly settled back down onto the silk cloth. "As you can see, I have a gift similar to Ares's."

           
Emma shook her head in amazement. "I thought Sicari women could only heal."

           
"There are exceptions to everything in nature. Even those who choose to enter the Order occasionally inherit abilities," Atia said with a smile before her expression grew serious. "But our healers are our most valuable defense against the Praetorians."

           
"Like Phae?"

           
"Phaedra is quite special. Her healing abilities are some of the strongest I've ever seen," Atia said quietly. "But I'm not here to discuss her. I want to discuss the two of us. We both know you see things when you touch artifacts, Emma. My godson is quite thorough in his reports."

           
The Prima Consul's direct and matter-of-fact manner told Emma the woman wouldn't believe her, even if she did manage to lie well for once in her life. But she wouldn't be tricked into touching one of the Sicari objects Ares had dangled like a carrot in front of her. She shrugged.

           
"If you're asking me to touch the cross, I'll pass on test-driving this model. Why don't you just enlighten me?" Emma arched her eyebrows with distrust.

           
"Molto bene, I understand your reluctance to trust me." Atia nodded with gentle acceptance. A reflective expression swept across the woman's youthful features. "More than thirty-five years ago I was working an excavation in the Cathars territory near Rennes le Chateau. Your Oriental Institute expressed interest in the dig and sent an intern to work with us. Not only was this young man intelligent and charismatic, he knew who the Sicari were."

           
The Prima Consul paused and reached out to touch the silk that cradled the cross. Across from her, Emma felt a chill slide down her back. She knew what was coming. And if she hadn't seen Atia's name in the cipher, the woman's story would have been difficult to swallow. Palms together, her fingertips pressing against her lips, Atia drew in a sharp breath then continued.