“Fine. And definitely not.” My voice was tight, hinting at my frustrated desire. My heart, it grieved so for the man who called my name with his last breath. He chased me through my sleep, leaving me empty and hollow upon waking.
Augustus chuckled and helped me up. His hands were polite, gentle almost. I’d noticed the last few days his words and comments didn’t always match the way he touched me.
Was he softening towards me? Maybe he began to pity the starved ragged mess I had become.
I glanced down at my blackened feet. Dirt caked them. My skin no longer felt like my own. All I wanted was a bath, but such things didn’t exist in times such as this. I’d be lucky to locate a jug of cold water to wash with.
He stepped closer, turning his back to the soldiers stepping into their formations. “You have carried well, little witch. We are nearly at our destination.”
“Rome?” I asked, unable to repress my spark of interest.
“Not quite. We cannot bring a mess such as you in front of the Emperor. He wants a goddess not a starved urchin.”
His tongue bit out the word wants, and I tried hard not to read too much into it. What does the emperor want with Mae?
My sleep deprived and half-starved state made my mind play tricks on me. Sometimes I was Mae Adams, sometimes I was Mae. Rarely was I both of us together. My body, on the point of breaking, torn and shredded with the wear of the march could no longer gel us together.
My power, the gold in my veins, was all but gone. I could no longer sense where it resided within me, or if it even did. All I had was the memory of it.
I flickered my eyes over Augustus. Not for the first time I wondered if his veins held the red her father had warned her about. Or was it the Emperor who had that built within him.
Father had warned her that Tristram had the red line of greed and power. But next to Augustus, I couldn’t believe it.
Father had been wrong.
It didn’t matter now. Tristram was dead.
“How far until we reach this place?” I frowned at the endless road and the rolling countryside. I’d figured we’d stepped into Italy a few days before. Olive trees peppered the fields and the sun shone incessantly.
“Not long.” He frowned. “The Mage is ahead making sure they are ready. She is sure she’s found the right girl this time.”
I watched him closely. “But you are not?”
For a moment he hesitated, his blue eyes landing on my lips. “Maybe I hope they haven’t. But then maybe sometimes I hope you are her.” Did his voice just catch a little?
I glanced him over, trying to hide my surprise. He caught it though, his gaze steeling over, pulling him away.
“Or maybe I don’t care either way. Maybe I’m bored of your crying and moaning, and your constant dreams with the moans and the mumbling of that fool’s name.”
There was no hiding the scorch on my cheeks. He lifted a hand, running it along the edge of my cheek. He lowered his face closer to mine and I burned brighter as my pulse kicked up a notch.
“I can sense your dreams, little one.” His eyes held mine. He hadn’t called me little witch. “Your heart needs to heal, otherwise you will be tormented for all time. You don’t want to spend every night of the rest of your life longing like that, do you?” Escaping his meaning was impossible.
“Then you should mind your own,” I snapped, and he laughed loudly, pulling me to my feet and smacking me on the ass.
“Then you shouldn’t dream so loud.” He glanced briefly at the road. “Come. Let’s get this over now. I want to get back to my wives.”
He leered at me and the intimacy that had weaved between us moments ago evaporated like a snap of a branch.
“Let’s not, make them wait in misery.” I scowled the ugliest, angriest face I could manage.
He boomed another laugh and pushed me on. Obviously, I wasn’t getting breakfast today. We must be close to our destination indeed.
My feet almost slipped beneath me. The yearning hunger that had filled my belly all day was on the verge of consuming me whole. I tripped once, and then again. Strong arms caught me. The sun was dipping over the horizon, making everything a faint gold but I was struggling to see around the creeping darkness overtaking my vision. “Hold on.” It was Augustus. His hands almost held me up, but I still couldn’t stop stumbling over imaginary threads of tree roots and leaves that I was sure scattered the road on which we marched. A sigh filtered into my ear, followed by a swoosh of air as I was lifted and pressed against a firm surface.
I’d come all this way, on the cusp of Rome and discovering what all this was about, but I was going to die at the last hurdle.
I couldn’t hang on. Darkness ate away at me, filling the empty lonely parts of my soul.
“You know, little one. If I carry you over the threshold you will owe me.” Augustus’ words made no sense and I batted them away as I would a swarm of wasps trying to land on a jelly sandwich.
Ah, jelly. How fondly I remembered that.
“I always collect. Now are you going to walk?” he asked.
But it was no good. I had no words, no sight, no hope.
A warm smell, delicious and fresh seeped its way deep into my senses. It reminded me of something. It reminded me of Jelly, strawberry Jelly.
Another voice found me in my memories “You Americans always have a way of making everything so vulgar.”
Mrs Cox… Heather… She’d be mighty disappointed with me now.
It was the last thought I had as a
