Page 11 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

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MALINA

Kara had provided roasted pheasant, fresh bread served with a soft cheese, stewed leeks with garlic cloves, and a bowl of olives. And while the meal smelled heavenly, my stomach rolled with nervousness as I set the tray down on the table inside his bedchamber. I could hear water dripping where he must be taking his bath.

“Malina,” he called softly, “come here.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I steeled myself and marched behind the screen to find him waist-deep in his luxurious bath, steam rising off the surface. Avoiding his naked body, I kept my gaze on the floor, realizing I could feel heat seeping from the tiles and through the thin hide slippers I was wearing.

“There’s a chamber beneath the floor. Ivo feeds the fire to heat the water when I need the bath.”

I frowned, not liking that he seemed to know what I was thinking so often. Then my thoughts scattered as he walked up the steps, water sluicing down his muscular frame in rivulets.

Mouth agape, I couldn’t stop my gaze from roving up his thick frame and sculpted body to where he held out a hand. When I finally met his gaze, no doubt wide-eyed with shock, he arched a brow.

“The towel, Malina.”

I jumped at once and turned to find the drying cloth hanging across the stool I’d sat upon to shave him. I snatched it up and held it open with both hands. He walked forward, pressing his wet body against the open towel and taking the ends from me. A drop of water dripped onto my forearm, making me flinch. I chanced a glance at his stoic face; the only part of him showing any emotion at all was his eyes—burning embers of gold.

I turned while he finished drying his body, thankful he didn’t ask me to do that for him as well. I didn’t dare reach through my magical line to discover what he was feeling in that moment, with that look in his eyes. It was better I didn’t know.

“Fetch me a clean tunic.” His voice was cool and steady as always.

Glad to gain some space, I moved away from the bathing area and to the shelves where his clothes were stored. I pulled out one of the plain, loose tunics I’d folded and put away yesterday then carried it to him.

He finished toweling off his hair and wiped his chest once more before tossing it aside, leaving him completely naked before me. I’d seen him nude before, the night he’d carried me here in dragon form. But then it had been dark and I’d been half-mad with the trauma I’d endured .

This was different. While he seemed perfectly at ease, waiting for me to help him dress, my pulse beat wildly in my veins. I’d helped him dress before, but not for bed. This was disturbingly intimate.

“Are you going to assist me, Malina, or stand and stare all night?”

His tone wasn’t teasing or reprimanding. Somehow, that made it easier to get past my anxiety. I opened the tunic to help him slip his arms through, then he slid it on and walked toward the terrace without another word.

Relieved, but also knowing the image of him stepping out of that bath would haunt me later, I hurried back to the tray and carried it out to him. He was already seated, sitting up this time with his back to the outer wall of the terrace, his gaze out at the setting sun.

I sat in my usual place on a cushion opposite the low table and waited. He was tensely silent, something obviously worrying his mind. But I wasn’t his friend or his comforter, I reminded myself.

Finally, he looked at me, expression heavy, and asked, “Why didn’t you use your gift when your village was attacked?”

Surprised by the question, I straightened and decided to answer honestly. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Clearing my throat, I pushed away the remorse and regret that always laced those memories. “I didn’t know my magic well enough then. And I—”

Should I be this honest?

He stared at me with such intensity, I found myself being more truthful than was wise. “I’ve always had trouble focusing my gift when I’m afraid.”

He nodded, seeming to understand.

“When was the first time you used it in defense?”

He wasn’t simply curious. This was an earnest interrogation.

“Aren’t you hungry, dominus?” I gestured toward the food.

He gave a sharp shake of his head but poured two goblets of wine and passed one to me. Without commenting on the master serving his slave, I took it and drank deeply, remembering.

“After my family was attacked, I’d found a small town in the south of Gaul, serving in a tavern. The owner let me sleep in his storage room, and he was a kind old man. But I was a woman alone.”

When I paused and met his gaze, I noted the sudden hardness taking over his expression.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked, a darkness seeping into his voice.

“Not exactly. A man in the tavern had offered me coin for sex. When I told him I wasn’t a prostitute, I could tell I was going to have trouble with him. He and his friends were a loud, drunken bunch. Their minds were easily pliable, and I needed to protect myself.”

I took a sip of my wine. Julian kept silent and waited.

“Using my gift, I filled them with fear and announced to his table that deathriders had been seen coming our way.” I huffed a small laugh, recalling their terrified faces. “They fled the tavern at once, screaming in panic. When a few others in the tavern stepped outside to check the skies and returned confused to find me laughing, the tavern owner asked what I’d done to those men. I didn’t answer and cleaned their table. But that was how a rumor had started that I was a witch. It helped keep unsavory men away. It also led a particular Celtic clan to come looking for me not long after.”

He reached forward and tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it in the soft cheese. He seemed to be mulling this over as I set my cup on the tray.

“Is that all, dominus? I will leave you to your meal.”

“No,” he said quickly when I moved to stand. “Stay and eat with me. I have more questions.”

I was eager to check on Enid. And while I understood my role well in his home, it still sparked an angry flame when I wasn’t permitted to leave .

“The bargain, dominus, was for one question each night. You’ve already asked two.”

He continued to eat, then asked as if he hadn’t heard me, “You claimed that they were drunk and their minds were easily molded to your will. Do you have trouble using your gift on stronger minds?”

“I will answer the rest of your questions, dominus, if you answer some of mine after.”

“Agreed,” he snapped easily.

Clasping my hands in my lap, I said, “Yes, I can have difficulty tethering with some minds.”

“You have difficulty, but can you connect with the strong-willed?”

I thought about how easily I’d connected with him. “I can, yes.”

His expression showed a glint of excitement. “Could you tether to someone powerful like the emperor?”

I couldn’t suppress my surprise. “Are you asking me to?”

He said nothing, firming his lips together, his jaw clenching.

“Why would you want me to use my gift on the emperor?”

He stared, a taut silence stretching heavily between us. This seemed to be one question he wasn’t going to answer.

“What kind of work keeps you away every day?” I asked, curious where he went and what he was doing.

“I’ve had to meet with my military tribunes. Among others.”

“For your next war campaign?” I asked, not disguising my disgust.

“I’m a legatus in the emperor’s armies. That is my job.”

I snorted indignantly. “And when will Rome have enough?”

He clamped his jaw again, not answering. Somehow, that made me braver.

“Will Rome never stop until the entire world bows at her feet? Enslaved and groveling before the mighty dragons?”

His eyes flared with golden fire, his dragon watching me. That reminded me of Stefanos. Was he hiding a dragon bastard because the boy was his? My stomach curdled at the thought. If Stefanos was his son, where was the mother? What did he do with her? And why did he let the boy live?

That law enacted by Caesar when he took power rang around the world, all the way to Gaul and beyond. The law that demanded any dragon born of a lowborn must be executed at birth. That the Romans could be so callous wasn’t a surprise. It was Caesar’s way of keeping control, not allowing slaves or lowborn freed men or women to have the strength of the dragon. It kept him in power.

Not only that, but it was said that all lowborn dragons begotten before this law was enacted were sentenced to fight in the gladiator pits, a punishment for their birth. Apparently, the emperor had been smart enough to know that the people wouldn’t applaud and clap their hands in watching the deaths of some of their own, of women and children, but they would applaud them becoming warriors in the pit.

“I thought all surviving dragons were to be put to death or were sent to the gladiator pits in the far provinces. Even children.” Julian was defying his own uncle’s law. “Why are you hiding Stefanos in your household?”

He angled his head, arching a superior brow, seeming unsurprised that I’d figured out Stefanos was dragon-born. “Because he will be killed otherwise.”

“You could be executed for hiding a bastard dragon, couldn’t you?”

“I could,” he acknowledged coolly, sipping his wine as if he hadn’t just discovered that one of his slaves now knew his deadly secret.

A smart woman would’ve kept her mouth shut or made promises that I’d never tell for survival and self-preservation. But as I was always told by my grandmother, my mother, and my sisters, I was reckless. I’d rather walk into the fire than have it chase and burn me as I ran away. I blamed the witch who lived inside me.

“Why risk so much for Stefanos? Why him?” I asked.

He observed me for a moment, that cold, unreadable expression hiding his emotions. I could tap into the tether, but right now I liked wondering as he watched me in that calculating way. Was he considering how to dispose of me once this conversation was over? And why wasn’t I afraid?

“Because it is not his fault he was born a bastard,” he finally answered evenly.

Such a simple, honest answer. One that contradicted the almighty ambition of the true Roman.

“When I held that small boy in my hands,” he continued, holding out his hand, palm upward, staring down as if he saw the newborn babe in his own arms, “he was so innocent. So pure.” He dropped his hand, meeting my gaze again. “I realize you see me as a monster, Malina. But I am not.” He glanced away, raising his goblet. “Not entirely anyway.”

Rather than want to run away, I wanted to hear more. I wanted him to keep talking and to listen to his low, rich baritone telling me words he should never utter if he were a true, loyal patrician to Emperor Igniculus.

I still couldn’t ask him whether Stefanos was his, because I was afraid of his answer. Of how it would make me feel if he only saved Stefanos because he was his own blood or if he actually had enough of a heart to save him regardless.

A trembling had taken root deep inside my core. I wasn’t sure what caused it. Whether it was his honesty about Stefanos, that he wasn’t a Roman who followed the orders of his emperor, or that this thread of humanity strengthened the tether between us.

“That man in the forum.” I changed the subject. “He is one of your tribunes?”

“He is.”

“Then why meet in secret?”

“It wasn’t secret. It was in the middle of the day in the forum. ”

“It was on the outer edges in a deserted alcove off the forum center where no one could see. You whispered in the shadows of an alley,” I challenged. “It was a clandestine meeting.”

He arched that brow at me again. “You’re sure of this?”

“Positive.” Yet again, I wished I could hold my tongue, but there was nothing for it. In Julian’s presence, I could be no one but myself.

He smiled but it vanished quickly. “It wasn’t entirely deserted.”

He meant the man who had grabbed hold of me, the man he nearly killed for committing such an offense.

“Your reaction that day,” I began, plucking at a piece of bread, “it was rather extreme.” When he said nothing, continuing to watch me, I asked, “Why did you nearly kill that man? He hadn’t harmed me.”

For the first time since I’d sat down, his expression shifted from cool indifference to a harsh scowl. He stared for a breathless moment.

“He’d taken liberties where he shouldn’t,” he rumbled in that darker voice of his dragon. Then he snapped, “Next question.”

“Why am I eating meals with you?” I sat back, though I’d barely eaten a bite tonight, my stomach in knots. “It isn’t my place… as your slave.”

He abandoned the food as well, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Would you rather dine with Kara and the others? You can if you wish.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His gaze was sharp and searching, the shimmer of gold burning brightly. “You don’t know?”

His question was accusatory, and it sent my pulse racing. I shook my head.

He smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t sardonic or cynical. It was seductive, whether he intended it or not. The harsh lines of his face softened to an expression of welcome and promise. He was so beautiful, it hurt. I couldn’t drag my gaze away if I’d tried. The witch inside me luxuriated under his sultry gaze.

“Do you remember our first meeting?” he asked gently .

“Of course I do. You gave me the gold piece. The aureus. Your mother’s.”

A pang of sorrow hit me at learning of his parents’ death. His expression didn’t change, still calm and intent on mine, still alluring with that crooked smile.

He glanced at my throat. Though the aureus was hidden beneath the high neck of my tunic, he knew it was there.

“You wore it all these years,” he declared. “You could’ve used it for any number of things. Food, shelter, weapons for your Celts. But you didn’t. Why?”

Then I couldn’t help it. My fingers went to the coin. Even beneath the fabric, I could feel it cool against my skin. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” He leaned forward off the wall. “It was given to you by a Roman centurion. A stranger you’d never see again.” His smile widened. “Or so you’d thought.”

Swallowing hard, I answered honestly. “I couldn’t part with it.”

“Because of its value in gold?”

“No.”

“Because of its connection to Fortuna, then. You thought the goddess would protect you if you kept it.”

“Partly.” My voice was shaking now.

“And what of the other part?”

“I…”

His attention was fierce and intense. I couldn’t hold his gaze, nor could I answer him. Standing, I pulled the aureus from beneath my tunic and held it as I walked to the terrace banister overlooking Rome. The light was fading, dots of yellow torches and oil lamps lighting up the homes and taverns below.

I felt him standing behind me. “Tell me of the other part.” His voice was silky dark, sweeping over my skin in an intimate caress.

When I didn’t speak, he gently turned me to face him, one hand on my shoulder. I held the aureus tight in my fist, a pulse beating there. For a moment, I wondered if it originated from the coin or if it was simply my own heart beating wildly in my palm. He lifted my chin with a finger.

I inhaled at the tether drawing tight, the connection my magic strengthened at his touch.

“Tell me,” he urged.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

I couldn’t admit that I was wholly attracted to the Roman who’d enslaved me, who spent his life killing and enslaving others to grow an empire of malevolence and malice. The very thought made bile rise up my throat, and yet, I couldn’t resist the powerful need to be near him, to draw him nearer.

I suppose that’s why I didn’t move, barely breathed, when his large hand cupped my jaw, the pads of his fingers sliding into my hair.

“Shall I tell you?”

I kept silent, a war of morals churning in my breast.

He swept his thumb across my cheek. “I’ll tell you since you’re too coward to admit it.” His hand on my shoulder slid to the side of my neck, and it felt heavenly. “You kept this coin, because it tied you to me. The gods had bound us together. Your gods, mine, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb continued to sweep, stroking sweetly. “I never thought to see you again either. But I’d never forgotten you. Do you know there were so many nights I lay alone in my tent in some foreign part of the world, feeling disconnected from everyone and everything in my life? When I felt the absolute loneliest, you would visit me.”

He chuckled at my shocked expression, continuing to hold and stroke my face softly.

“I’d see my firebird dancing across that stage. I should’ve known that night that you held magic inside of you. You bewitched me with that first glance. I’d wonder where you were in the world. Who you were dancing for. Who had the privilege to watch you.”

“My dancing days ended long ago,” I told him. When the Romans had invaded my village and killed everyone I loved .

“I hope that’s not true.” His thumb brushed close to the corner of my mouth. His gaze dropped there, his expression soft and yearning. “I hope you’ll dance once more. For me.”

Then the pad of his thumb swept over my bottom lip. He wanted to kiss me. I could feel it. If I allowed that, it would be a betrayal to everything I was. It would be a betrayal to my family, long buried in their cold graves. His burning gaze swept over my face, then he let me go and stepped back suddenly.

While I caught my breath, Ruskus entered the terrace carrying a scroll of parchment. Julian must’ve heard him coming. Dragon senses, of course.

“Excuse me, dominus.” Ruskus limped closer, his wobbly gait much more pronounced in the afternoon. “This just came for you.”

Julian stepped aside and unrolled the parchment. He read it quickly. There was a pinch between his brow when he turned. “That will be all, Ruskus.”

He nodded a bow, then left, never even glancing in my direction. I wondered what he and Kara thought of me, eating with the master. Probably that I was sleeping with him as well. A stab of guilt darkened my mood when Julian turned to me.

“What news?” I couldn’t help but ask. He’d given me permission to ask my questions and now I couldn’t seem to stop.

“War.”

My stomach twisted. “Where?”

“Barbarians are attacking Roman provinces in Moesia.”

“That’s not far from Dacia…” I heard my voice trail off, remembering how I’d fled west toward Gaul rather than south toward Moesia when I’d escaped the Roman attack on our village.

“It’s in the southern region close to the Thracian border.” He stood closer.

I snapped my head back to him, my thoughts having wandered quickly. “When do you leave? ”

“Three days.” He crumbled the scroll in one hand. “I have a mind to take you with me.”

“Why would I go?”

“You’re my body slave. It’s common for generals and officers to bring them.” He paused, then added, “Many slaves travel with the campaign.”

“How else would Romans eat or dress themselves?” came my tart reply.

I winced at my sharp accusation. He edged closer and corralled me against the stone banister.

My back hit the railing while I kept my chin up to face him.

He placed his hands on the banister, caging me in but not touching me. I kept forgetting how large he was. I couldn’t even imagine what he’d look like in half-skin. And why the thought of seeing him that way didn’t repulse me was another mystery.

“True enough, firebird.” He dipped his head lower, studying my eyes carefully.

“Why do you call me that?” I asked, angry that my voice trembled.

“You don’t know the tale?”

“No.”

His smile turned fiendish, then he stood straight and stepped back, removing his heat and intoxicating presence. “Good night, Malina. Be ready to leave in three days.” Then he walked away down the terrace steps and around the corner toward the stables.

I found Enid awake when I ducked into her small room. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun away from her face, the way Kara wore hers. I realized the older woman must’ve helped her with it.

“You’re awake,” I whispered happily as I rushed to her side .

The single oil lamp burning on her bedside shadowed her thin face. She’d lost weight.

She smiled when she saw me and reached up a hand from the bed. “Malina.”

Her voice was raspy from disuse. I sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her gently. She smelled of the lavender oil Kara set out for me to use in bathing. Kara had been taking good care of her.

It made me smile to think of the rough Kara tending so kindly to Enid.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, easing her back to the pillow.

Rather than answer, she asked a question of her own. “How did you manage it? To get the general to save me?”

I’d begged.

The tether wound tighter.

I shrugged. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. You’ll be well enough soon.”

“I don’t know if I will.” She fell into a coughing fit.

I helped her sit up more and grabbed the cup of water on the small table to help her drink. She gulped it down, then settled again. A wet wheeze squeezed out of her lungs every time she breathed.

“Why would you say that? Kara said the wound is healing.”

I held the cup in my lap in case she needed more water.

“There’s something wrong on my inside.” She grimaced as she tried to move to get more comfortable. “Don’t think any healer can help me now.”

“Don’t say that, Enid.”

Dread gripped me hard that she might be right. Her face was paler than before, her lips dull and gray. Shadows danced across her eyes as she got a faraway look.

“Do you remember Brigid?”

Setting the cup aside, I gripped her pale bony hand in both of mine, swallowing the lump swelling up my throat at the thought of the frail, white-haired woman Brigid, who was a little addled in the brain.

“She begged for her life,” whispered Enid hoarsely, “when they were loading us into the nets. They killed her with one swipe of a claw.” She sniffed. “Now I wish they’d done the same to me.”

“Please don’t say that,” I begged her, squeezing her cold hand in mine.

“I thank you for getting your master to bring me here. Better to die in this bed looking at your pretty face than in that cold pen or all alone somewhere else.”

“Please don’t give up, Enid.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She gave my fingers a weak squeeze. “You’re in a safe place here. There’s no shame in doing whatever you have to in order to survive, my sweet girl.”

Whether she thought I was using my body to placate the general, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. All I wanted was for her to find some peace.

I sought her core with my magic, connecting easily with her since our souls were so familiar, then pushed a wave of solace through the line.

She stared up at the ceiling, the candlelight casting strange shadows over her face. She winced again in pain.

“Sleep, Enid,” I said softly, pouring tranquility through our tether, giving her spirit the balming peace she needed. “Rest.”

I curled up and laid my head next to hers as we used to do on cold winter nights. Though now I made sure not to jostle her, feeling the excruciating pain bouncing back through our connection. I closed my eyes and wept silently, listening to Enid’s ragged breaths in the dark, pushing my soothing magic into her aching body.

My mind drifted back to my conversation with Julian tonight and his dogged questions. He wanted me to use my power on the emperor? The thought of tethering with that dragon sent a terrifying chill through my blood. But Julian didn’t ask me that randomly. He had a purpose, though he refused to confide in me what it was.

Bunica had taught me to have faith in my magic, to rely on it, and now, that inner knowing reached desperately for Julian. Not as a target to vanquish, not as the enemy, but as an ally.

I reached out to that witch who lived inside me, thinking of Julian and all that had passed between us. I clutched the coin around my neck, and a familiar rightness settled deep in my bones. I determined then and there that I must know why he asked me such a question about Caesar.

Dare I hope, was it possible, that my enemy could become my ally?