Page 86 of Ensnaring the Dove
Aedan nodded.
“I’m glad.”
Their gazes held for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between them. They’d once been enemies, and then slave and master, before Aquila granted him his freedom. But now, years later, they were just two men, and in another life, they could have been friends.
“How fares Fenella?” Aedan’s gaze flicked to Marcus then, remembering that the centurion had wed a woman who’d also been Justin Aquila’s slave. “And Kahina?”
“They’re both well,” Aquila replied. “We have a son … Leo.”
“Kahina has just given birth to our second daughter,” Marcus added, pride lacing his voice.
Aedan smiled once more at this news. Fenella and Kahina had been good to him, and he’d shared a kinship of sorts with them both.
“I shall bring Fenella with me on my next visit to Onnum,” Aquila said then, white teeth flashing against the deep tan of his face. “She will want to see you again too.”
“And I will welcome you both,” Aedan assured him, “although our home is a humble one.”
Aquila snorted, making it clear he cared little about such things. He then nodded to Aedan. “Until the next time we meet then.”
The column lurched forward once more, and Aedan watched it go. The company from Vindolanda marched toward the walls of Onnum, crossing the vallum to the haunting cry of a horn.
Once the dust had settled, Aedan picked up his cart and followed them into the fort.
Aquila would be heading to the compound, to meet with Juventus and discuss the repair work on the Wall. However, Aedan didn’t travel in the same direction; instead, he cut through the backstreets toward his workshop.
And these days, it did belong to him.
Keir had died six months earlier. The carpenter passed away in his sleep; Colombia had found him the following morning when he didn’t join them at dawn for bread and broth as he usually did.
His end had been peaceful, yet they’d both grieved him deeply. Taking ownership of the workshop had been bittersweet, and it had felt empty ever since. Aedan missed chatting with Keir as he worked, and the light-hearted banter between them. The three of them had been a family. Colombia had wept for days after they’d buried him.
Aedan and Colombia had eventually moved from the lean-to into the dwelling that had once belonged to Keir. Six months on, it was starting to feel like their home.
Nonetheless, whenever Aedan approached the workshop, he half-expected to see Keir bent over his workbench, sawing, sanding, or hammering.
Instead, today, a woman stood in the doorway. Across her front, she carried a baby in a sling.
Their daughter, Julia, was nearly four months old now. She had his auburn hair and her mother’s smoke-grey eyes.
Colombia watched him approach. Like his, her hair had lightened over the hot summer. She’d pulled the front of it back from her face, but the rest of her tawny mane flowed downher back. Aedan liked her hair loose, and the simple blue tunic girded at the waist also suited her.
His wife’s beauty shone like newly polished amber in the noon sun. She needed no adornment.
“I just crossed paths with Justinian Aquila,” he greeted her. “I didn’t think he’d recognize me, but he did.”
Colombia grinned. “Was he pleased to see you?”
“I think so.” Aedan lowered his cart to the ground and crossed to her, bending to bestow a kiss upon Colombia’s soft lips. At the same time, he stroked the downy red-brown hair on his daughter’s crown. “And it was good to see him again too.” He smiled as he straightened up and met his wife’s eye. “He was surprised to find me here.”
Colombia inclined her head. “Where did he think you’d be?”
“He likely imagined I’d be in Moedin, sitting in my father’s chair, ordering slaves about, and drinking mead with my warriors.”
Their gazes held for a moment before Colombia’s expression sobered. “I know you love me and Julia,” she murmured, “but do you sometimes wish that had been your fate?”
“No,” Aedan replied without a moment’s hesitation. He lifted his hand then, stroking Colombia’s smooth cheek. “Not for an instant. I told Aquila, and I shall you too. I have no regrets about the road the Gods laid out before me … for it brought it for you.”
And he meant it. Before he met Colombia Juventus, he’d been lost, searching for meaning and purpose. He’d been full of bitterness too—but that man seemed to belong to another life. He walked lighter, and taller, these days. The sight of a Roman pilum piercing the sky, the flutter of a crimson cloak in the wind, didn’t make his gut clench as it once had. Instead, those were familiar and welcome sights.
Colombia’s lovely face broke into a smile. “I have no regrets either,” she assured him. “I’m so happy, Aedan. Sometimes Iwish I could stop time. Just you, me, and Julia … like this forever.”
Their life was simple, yet full of joy. He worked hard, but his wife and daughter were with him for most of the day. As he toiled in the workshop, he’d smell the delicious aromas of the noon meal or supper wafting through. Colombia would often come through to sweep the sawdust from the workshop floor, and he’d take the opportunity to catch her by the waist and steal a kiss.
Aye, it wasn’t the life he thought he’d have, but he didn’t envy his brother any longer. He hadn’t for years now. If Aedan were any happier, his heart would burst.
“I know what you mean,” he said softly. “If only we could.”