Page 23 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

XXII

JULIAN

Upon arriving home, I’d let Malina suture my wound yet again while she glared and muttered curses about stubborn men. Shifting had pulled all of them loose, of course. I knew that it would, but I wouldn’t let anyone take her back but me. I’d waited until all but Trajan had left the encampment to be sure we weren’t seen.

After she’d stitched me up, I bathed and changed into a regal toga in deepest red, then set off on Volkan to the imperial palace. It was dark when Volkan trotted up the winding path bordered by tall cypress trees .

I slowed Volkan to a walk near the stables, hardening every part of myself, locking my emotions for Malina into the chamber where my dragon slept. I wore the mask of the Coldhearted Conqueror by the time the stable boy Jovan stepped forward. This was the only version of me that my uncle could ever see.

My wound smarted as I dismounted and handed Jovan the reins, but I kept all of the discomfort off my face. There could be no sign of weakness.

Walking briskly up the marble steps, I marched past the praetorians at the door and stopped at another guard standing outside my uncle’s parlor, where he usually met with his generals and politicians.

The guard saluted, then said, “He is not in his parlor, Legatus.”

“Where is he?”

His expression remained stoic when he replied, “At the pit.”

I dipped a nod and walked on, cursing to all the gods in my mind. Seeing my aunt in her current state tore a piece of my heart away every time.

Stalking through the open courtyard where Caesar held his last feast, I steeled myself for what lay not far beyond the outer gate. I’d contemplated attempting to set my aunt free somehow multiple times. But my uncle kept her so well-guarded, I wouldn’t be able to do it without certain capture. It was one of the many wrongs I planned to set right whenever we’d implemented our plan, a plan I was becoming more and more desperate to accomplish.

Exiting through the garden’s back gate, I took the rough trail through the long grass, well-worn by my uncle’s visits to his sister. There, upon a platform he had constructed that jutted from the edge and hovered over the pit, stood my uncle, two praetorians, and Ciprian.

My steps faltered for a second but thankfully it seemed Ciprian was taking his leave. My uncle clapped his shoulder before Ciprian stepped away and onto the trail toward me .

His eyes widened slightly. He wasn’t expecting me. Then his expression relaxed into its usual arrogant sneer.

“Legatus, I hear you had trouble in Moesia.”

“Nothing serious, Ciprian. I didn’t lose as many men as you did in Macedonia.”

His smile vanished. “At least my men and I won the field.”

“ Your men. Those weren’t yours. You’ve yet to lead a campaign of your own. You are merely prefect,” I reminded him.

“Not for much longer.” He stopped in front of me, blocking my path, and snapped the length of his black toga higher up his opposite shoulder. “Looking forward to your hospitality and getting a look at your slave girl soon.”

My entire body locked, muscles stiffened. Willing myself not to strangle him where he stood, I replied steadily, “I have no intentions of entertaining soon. There are more important things to do, like wars to be fought.” Just the thought of him ogling Malina made me sick with dread.

“That’s what you think.” He laughed and walked on by me. “Go talk to your uncle.”

It took far more energy than I imagined to keep from snatching him back and demanding him to tell me what the fuck he was talking about. Expression passive, I walked on to meet my uncle standing at the edge of the platform railing, holding a golden goblet in one hand. I refused to look down just yet.

“Caesar,” I greeted him.

I always reminded him of his powerful station when I could, using his formal title rather than being familiar first.

“Julian.”

His mouth quirked into a smile as he turned sideways to greet me, his eyes glassy with drink and gone full dragon, with serpentine slits down the middle of the gold. He clasped my forearm and shook it hard .

“Report,” he commanded as he always did directly following a campaign.

“The town of Singidium was completely destroyed by the enemy, as we were informed. No survivors could attest to who had attacked their province and the two surrounding ones. I sent scouts to seek them out in the woods and foothills nearby. They evaded, remaining hidden for more than two weeks when we finally corralled them in one central area, a dense forest north of Singidium.”

I kept my voice even and confident and my gaze on his, despite his somewhat inebriated state. He was always dangerous, no matter what state he might be in.

“It seemed they were a small force as my legions closed in on them, when they started a quick-burning fire that ignited the entire forest above my soldiers’ heads. They used nets to keep my officers from shifting and fleeing but most of them were able to free themselves regardless. We were forced to retreat. Four hundred eighty-three were lost in the blaze. Two hundred thirty-six were wounded and will make a full recovery. The barbarian horde fled and vanished from the vicinity.”

“Did you discover their origins? What tribe they must be from?”

“No, Emperor.”

I had an idea, but I wasn’t sharing it with him.

“You didn’t recover any of their injured?”

“I’m afraid not. They had planned this well and apparently had an escape route that we never discovered. We couldn’t have pursued them once the blaze was ignited. It was a conflagration.”

My uncle’s brow furrowed. “Fire. Curious that they would use our own key weapon against us.”

“I believe it was a statement, Caesar, declaring exactly that. That they could use Roman weapons as well. They had no intentions to fight us man-to-man. They simply wanted to taunt us and run.”

He huffed and turned his attention back to the pit, where I could hear my aunt feeding on something. Someone. A grotesque wet, crunching sound made my stomach curdle.

“Cowards, then,” he said. “Rabble. No need to pursue it unless they strike again.”

And they would. Though I had a feeling the next target would be a bigger one.

Igniculus stared down. I finally turned and forced myself to look into the pit. My aunt in her white dragon form chomped on the remains of a human man. There was only the bottom torso and one leg left.

“Is he tasty, Camilla?” Igniculus called down to her.

She turned her head up to us, the chain around her throat keeping her staked to the ground. Blood dripped from her fanged muzzle. Her jaws gaped and she released a guttural growl, her red eyes narrowed on my uncle. Then she caught sight of me.

I was never sure if she recognized me. But she let out a piercing sort of cry, a sad, birdlike wail, then she returned to her ghastly meal.

“Eat well, sweetheart,” laughed my uncle, raising his goblet to her before drinking. “She loves the fat ones.”

I didn’t bother to ask who had the luxury of being my aunt’s meal tonight. He usually used one of many he believed were against his regime, or a recent prisoner of war before they were sold off at auction.

Aunt Camilla’s permanent state of dragon form was a mystery. My uncle had had numerous physicians to study her and delve into the archives for cases of this kind, to find a cure. The only conclusion they offered was that she had succumbed to dragon madness and could no longer shift back into her female human form.

Uncle Igniculus had gutted the first physician who’d given him that diagnosis. But he’d spared the second and third, realizing perhaps they were right.

I’d done some studying of my own, finding a case in my own father’s books of the early dragon families. Dragons were protectors, and there had been a case of a young boy who’d been separated from his family while traveling. He shifted into his dragon form and remained that way even after distant family members found him living in a cave years later. They tried to coax him back to their village, but he blew fire to keep them distant and lived his entire life as a dragon.

The theory was that his dragon knew he was best protected in dragon form and he feared being vulnerable as a man.

Whatever my uncle had done to his sister, Camilla, it had terrified her so much that she preferred living as a dragon in chains in his pit over returning to her womanly form. I hoped that one day I might finally free her from this miserable life in chains.

She’d finished her meal and glanced up. She made that shrieking chirp again, then curled into a ball, jangling her chains, giving us her back as she went to sleep.

“All you have to do is come back to me,” my uncle slurred down to her in a sickeningly sultry voice, “then I’ll remove the chains, my sweet.”

She didn’t make a sound or move, her back heaving in deep breaths as if she were already in slumber.

Igniculus grunted, turning to me. “Come have a drink.”

Fuck. The last thing I wanted to do.

“Of course, uncle. It would be a pleasure.”

His praetorians followed us back, but I was mindful of the ones stationed in permanent watchtowers on two sides of my aunt’s pit, my uncle’s watchdogs.

We crossed through the back gate and door leading into his feasting hall, then into the central part of the palace, then his parlor.

“Jana!” he bellowed as he lowered onto a chaise.

A pretty female wearing his slave collar entered the room quickly. “Yes, dominus.”

I recognized her as one of the wine-bearers at the feast.

“Get me more wine and one for my nephew.”

“Right away, dominus. ”

While Jana fetched us wine, I stretched out, pretending to be comfortable in my uncle’s home when in reality, my entire being revolted at being here. The palace reeked of rot and corruption and sin.

“Do not let this loss weigh you down, nephew. They are inconsequential.”

“Thank you for saying so, but I’ll be there if they raise their heads from the sand again.”

“Indeed, you will be. You’re a Dakkian. My blood.” He thumped his chest.

Jana delivered the wine and speedily left.

My uncle’s gaze was bleary from drink, and his mood was sentimental. This was rare.

“You know, Julianus. Augustus never knew the proper way of the dragon.”

I didn’t flinch at the sound of my father’s name. No one spoke of him anymore, too afraid to resurrect old ghosts or to offend the Conqueror.

“He was different,” my uncle went on with a sigh. “You are more like me than my brother.”

“I’ve always thought so,” I lied.

He chuckled after gulping more wine. “If I’d ever had your mother, I’d swear you were my trueborn son and not my brother’s.”

I grunted with a smile and swallowed the wine, which tasted like bile. It would be so easy for me to kill him now. Yet again, that was only one part of the plan. Many heads needed to come off at the same time if we were to be successful in our coup. So I held my tongue and smiled through the pain of him jesting at defiling my own mother.

Though I could imagine his assassination happening on an evening like this, my uncle half-drunk and espousing obscenities like they were truths. Me listening to him like I cared, like I agreed.

“I have always been grateful for your guidance,” I told him, injecting emotion and sincerity into my voice .

He smiled, his eyes—still slit like his dragon’s—softened toward me. “And you shall be rewarded for your great leadership, my son. And your loyalty.” He pointed at me with a wink. “That is why I’ve chosen your house as the venue to hold Ciprian’s Rite of Skulls.”

Motherfucking gods of hell.

“My house, uncle?”

“It is always the senior general of the Roman legions who hosts the rite.” He pointed at me again. “And that is you, Julian. You are my most senior general, the bloodiest conqueror this world has ever seen. With the exception of me.” He laughed at the last.

“I appreciate such an honor.”

“But you do not like the idea. I can see it on your face.”

So much for keeping myself unreadable.

“I don’t like Ciprian,” I told him. “He’s arrogant and thinks too much of himself.”

My uncle tipped his head back and laughed, leaning farther back onto his chaise lounge. “You’re two of a kind. Yes, he’s arrogant. He’s ambitious. He is not your equal yet, but he’s trying to be. You could be his mentor.”

I snorted. “I doubt he’d accept me as his mentor.”

“He sees you as a rival.” Uncle set his goblet on the low table beside him. “He wants to be first in my affections.”

I dared to let my emotions show for once, my disgust for Ciprian. “He is greedy and undisciplined.”

“Do not worry, Julian. You speak from fear that he will replace you. That will never happen.” He picked up his goblet again. “You are the son I never had. My blood runs through your veins. You will continue my work as a true dragon when I am gone.”

Frowning, I sipped my wine, stewing in the thought of Ciprian taking the throne after my uncle. I’d never allow it. If we failed and never removed my uncle, I’d come back from the grave and slit Ciprian’s throat. But my uncle was right. Ciprian wanted my place, and he’d do anything to supplant me, including turn my uncle against me if he could. That made him even more dangerous.

“You will host the rite, Julian,” he declared in his authoritative tone.

“Of course, uncle. As you wish.”

“I do wish it. I want everyone to know you are my favored general. And not simply because you’re my nephew but because you deserve it.”

“How many should I plan for?” I asked casually, wanting to vomit at the thought of Ciprian’s closest friends in my home.

“I’ve told Ciprian his invitation list must be kept at a maximum of fifty. The Rite of Skulls is an exclusive ceremony. And though I’m sure Ciprian would like the whole world to see him receiving the rite, he will bend to tradition.”

“I agree.” I was glad to know there would be a small number of guests in my home at least. “When will we hold the ceremony and celebration?”

“Four days’ time. The skull master is preparing the king’s skull for the ceremony. The purification process will be complete in three.”

I nodded as if all of this was acceptable to me while I wanted to hunt Ciprian down now and murder him for achieving this rite. My dragon sniffed the air, well aware there was danger on the horizon, that untrustworthy men would be near our treasure.

It took everything in me to keep from growling my displeasure. I downed the rest of my wine and stood. “It seems I have preparations to take care of, uncle.”

“Indeed you do. Until then.” He began loosening the belt of his tunic. “Send Jana in on your way out.”

Cringing, I gave his parting order to one of the praetorians at the parlor door. I in no way wanted to see the expression on Jana’s face when she was summoned to my uncle.

Yet again, I left the palace with haste, needing to cleanse myself of all that I still endured. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend, how much longer I could keep from killing him. But I had to be sure I could survive his assassination. I had someone to protect now.

Malina. My bright firebird.

As I hefted myself into Volkan’s saddle and trotted down the drive, the realization sank in that my uncle, Ciprian, and more of their ilk would be filling my home soon, where Malina was. If I hid her away, Ciprian would make a show to point out my affections for my slave to my uncle. Only a dragon who cared too much would hide a treasure from others. My uncle knew that. So she’d have to be present, serving them.

“Son of Dis, save me,” I muttered, hurrying home.

I needed her sweet company, her soothing voice to quiet my soul, to wash away the horror of this place. And all that was yet to come.