Page 5 of Ensnaring the Dove
Colombia gnawed at her bottom lip, impatience thrumming through her. She then turned to her companion. “Surely, we can’t be far from Onnum now?”
Flavia glanced up from where she was nibbling from a dish of dried fruit, nuts, and cheese. “Atticus told me we should reach the fort tomorrow afternoon, at the latest,” her maid replied. Flavia’s mouth curved in a sly smile as she spoke the name of the bodyguard they’d brought with them from Asculum in northeastern Italia.
Colombia knew what that smile meant. When they’d set out, her maid and bodyguard had barely tolerated each other, yet during the long weeks that followed, Colombia had marked the thawing of their relationship.
In the past days, she’d also noticed how her maid disappeared sometimes in the early evenings after they’d made camp for the night. She wouldn’t be gone for long, but when she returned, the neat braid wrapped around the crown of her head was slightly askew and flecks of grass and straw covered her tunic.
Her bodyguard and maid were now lovers.
Flavia’s behavior was reckless, yet Colombia had so far refrained from making any comment about it. She hoped that Atticus would do the noble thing and propose to Flavia when they reached Onnum.
“One more night on the road then,” Colombia murmured, settling back into her pillows. The interior of their carpentum was richly decorated with brightly colored cushions and soft furs, as befitted Colombia’s rank. She was a garrison commander’s daughter and traveled in relative comfort. Excitement fluttered under her ribcage. “And then I shall finally see Linus again.”
Her gaze met Flavia’s, and her maid’s dark eyes glinted. Flavia knew just how much her mistress longed to see her betrothed once more. Five years had passed since Linus Calix Aurelius had proposed to her at her father’s villa.
“It’s been a long while,” Flavia pointed out, unnecessarily. “Do you think he will have changed?”
Colombia’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure webothhave,” she replied, glancing down at the gleaming gold band she wore upon the Venus finger of her left hand. Indeed, she’d been nineteen years old when he’d given her this ring, and was now four and twenty. “But our union cannot be delayed any longer.”
Flavia gave another, knowing, smirk, and Colombia tensed. Travel put even the strongest relationships to the test, and over the past weeks, she’d grown weary of her maid. Ever since Flavia’s relationship with Atticus had taken a turn, she’d developed a supercilious attitude, as if she was a woman of the world now and Colombia wasn’t.
“I look forward to seeing the Wall finally,” Colombia said crisply, shifting the focus from her drawn-out betrothal. “Linus tells me it is a truly magnificent feat of engineering … stretching from one coast to the other.”
Flavia nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “I wonder if the natives put up much opposition to it,” she murmured. “The building of such a fortification must have shocked them.”
Colombia’s brow furrowed. “Linus assures me that the locals have welcomed our rule,” she replied. “In his last missive, he—”
She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, for the carpentum lurched abruptly. Flavia’s dish of dried fruit and cheese flew in one direction and she in the other. She hit the wooden side of the cart and muttered an unladylike oath.
“What was that?” Colombia gasped.
“These cursed backwater roads,” Flavia muttered, picking herself up from the fur-covered floor of the cart. “Surely, we must make camp soon … I shall ask Atticus.”
Their bodyguard rode up front with the carpentum driver.
“We’ve stopped,” Colombia noted. After that great lurch, the cart had stilled. Outside, she could hear raised male voices. Her skin prickled then as if the air inside the carpentum had just grown chill. “Wait … Flavia. Something might be amiss. Best you let Atticus be for the moment.”
Flavia snorted. “Nonsense … he’ll tell us what’s happening.”
With that, her maid moved to the window and stuck her head out. “Atticus!” she called. “Why have we—”
The maid’s query cut off, and she reeled backward, collapsing on her back upon the furs.
A silent scream clawed its way up Colombia’s throat when her gaze alighted upon the arrow embedded in Flavia’s left eye.
III. THE GREATEST OF PRIZES
AEDAN NOTCHED A fresh arrow and sighted his target: a big man wearing a flowing red cloak, who marched at the head of the column. The centurion had drawn his gladius with one hand and raised his shield with the other, his dark gaze flicking around as he tried to catch sight of their attackers.
Aedan’s bow sang as the arrow flew, embedding in the centurion’s throat. An instant later, the soldier sagged to his knees, mouth gaping.
Watching the man fall, Aedan’s mouth flattened into a thin line.
He'd long since ceased to feel vindicated by killing Romans. It no longer set his blood alight. Slaughtering the men that escorted the convoy wasn’t a pleasant task—but it had to be done.
Hidden by the shadowed boughs of alders, Aedan had a clear sight of the front of the supply convoy. They’d prepared well for this moment, and their best archers had hidden themselves on the opposite side of the valley, before the Romans approached, awaiting Maccus’s signal. When a crow cawed three times, the harsh sound echoing over the vale—the archers loosed their arrows.
The attack was sudden, and from both sides, and it caught the leaders of the convoy—four men on horseback—by surprise.