Page 31 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

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MALINA

“You’ll have to take that off,” the blond-haired girl told me, pointing to my slave collar with Julian’s name on it.

Her name was Rhea. She said she’d been sold at a very young age and didn’t know where she came from originally, though she thought she looked like many Celts she’d met. She was extremely talkative.

I removed the collar but when Rhea reached out to take it from me, I jerked it back and pressed it to my chest. “I’ll keep it.”

She frowned, then shrugged. “If you want. But don’t let dominus see it. He’s very possessive of his slaves.” Then she added sincerely, “He’ll take it from you if he sees it.”

I didn’t bother telling her that I was not his slave, nor would I ever be any man’s property again. I might be in this infernal house by force, but I had a mission of my own. To find the easiest way to kill Ciprian Seneca.

Staring down at Julian’s name on the tin plate of my collar, I said, “I dare him to even try.”

She giggled. “Feisty little firebird, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Oh, I meant no offense.”

“No, why did you call me firebird?” I’d wondered for so long and Julian never bothered to tell me.

She shrugged. “It’s just an expression. From that story about Aurelia. The gold dragon.”

“I don’t know the story.”

“How do you not? It’s a common one.”

“I’m from Dacia, not Rome.”

Rhea frowned. “Of course.” She walked to the small chest at the foot of what was my new bed and opened it. “It’s actually a wonderfully tragic romance.”

“Will you tell it to me?”

Rhea smiled, making her pretty face even prettier. I noted the faint bruises on her wrists as she took out a black tunic from the trunk. It was the same kind she was wearing, which was tied with a length of leather as a belt. The material was thin and transparent, her body completely visible beneath it.

“Here, go change into this. Dominus likes us all wearing his color.”

Grinding my teeth, I turned around and began to change, cringing that I would have to wear such a thing. There was no changing screen for privacy. The slave quarters were smaller, darker, and colder, without any windows, vastly different from those in Julian’s house .

“Tell me the story,” I urged her again.

“Aurelia was the last female golden dragon. She lived centuries ago. She was the only daughter, and only child, of the most prominent family in Rome. Because she was a gold dragon, the last childbearing female of her kind, the emperor wanted her as his wife.”

“Which emperor?”

“Crusus the Red was his name. The problem was that Aurelia was a defiant child. She was well-known for being hotheaded and reckless. Her father had raised her with the independent will of a son. Furthermore, Aurelia was in love with another. A lesser nobleman’s son. When her father told her she would marry the emperor, she refused.”

“I suppose that didn’t go over well with the emperor,” I said, turning back to her while I folded my old tunic and placed it in the trunk on top of my collar necklace.

“Not at all.” Rhea laughed. “She told her father she’d like to see them try to force her to marry the brute of an emperor. She said she’d die before she let him take her. When news of her refusal came to Crusus, he immediately gathered his praetorians and marched to her home, intent on dragging her back to the palace by force.”

I sat on the stiff mattress and Rhea sat beside me, her eyes alight with excitement in telling the tale.

“So then, ” she said dramatically, “they stormed into her home and Aurelia fled into their outer courtyard, where she shifted into her golden dragon. She roared to the sky and took flight. Well, of course the praetorians and the emperor also shifted and chased after her.”

“And they caught her?”

Rhea grinned. “No. They did not. She was so fast that she’d made it over the lands of Hispania before they finally began to catch up to her.”

Rhea’s expression turned somewhat sad.

“Aurelia knew she wouldn’t be able to outfly them for long, and she refused to marry any other but her true love. She also knew the emperor would kill her lover the moment they dragged her back to Rome. So she allowed them to draw close. One of the praetorians blew fire to warn her to stop. That was what Aurelia had wanted. She sucked up his fire into her mouth and swallowed it.”

“What?” I was confused. “But how?”

“She was a golden dragon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Golden dragons had the ability to amplify fire. Suck it into themselves and expel ten times more. They could create an explosion of fire.”

“So she was able to burn them and get away?”

Rhea shook her head. “Only the one. The emperor held back and waited. So she did the only thing she could. She slowed her flight and bared her neck for him, showing she was submitting. And when the emperor took her bait, latching onto her with his claws and clasping his jaws at her throat in midair, she amplified all the fire burning inside her and burst her own body into flames.”

I flinched, not prepared for that ending.

“She fell to her death, but she took the emperor with her, clutched in her claws. So that’s where the term firebird comes from.”

“Well, I don’t have the ability to burn anyone to death. And I thank you for the compliment.” My mind wandered to Julian for the hundredth time since I’d arrived at this new home, remembering the first time he called me firebird back in Dacia. I smiled at the thought of being compared to Aurelia, the golden dragon.

Rhea laughed. “You’ve got that same bold spirit though. Only”—she paused, her brow pinched, and placed a hand on my arm—“be careful around master.”

I gestured toward the bruises on her wrists. “Does he hurt you often?”

“Oh, not really.” She laughed while tenderly touching a bruise. “Just hold still when he’s rutting on you. He usually only gets violent when you fight him.”

“You fight him? ”

“Me? Gods, never.” She shook her head.

And yet she still had bruises from his rough handling. My heart sank into despair at this pit of hell I’d been dropped into. Ciprian truly was the epitome of cruelty and brutality, which made me even more determined to find a way to kill him.

“Rhea,” said a large, burly man also wearing one of Ciprian’s collars. “Dominus wants you and the new girl to serve him dinner tonight.”

Rhea sobered instantly, her smile vanishing. “Yes, Adriano.”

“Cook will have dinner ready in an hour.”

My stomach rolled with dread. As much courage as I’d had coming here, it seemed to all fly away at that foreboding summons. But I’d sworn to Julian that I’d take care of myself, and so I must.

“Don’t worry,” Rhea assured me, taking my hand. “He won’t beat you unless you are disobedient. So”—she shrugged—“just obey his orders and all will be well.” She laughed but not nearly as heartily as before. “Don’t be the firebird tonight, Malina.”

I smiled back, knowing full well there was no way I could be anything but.

“Stand over here and let me get a good look at you.”

Ciprian’s voice skated across my skin like a slithering snake, raising gooseflesh on my arms. I set the tray of roasted meat and vegetables on the low table in front of his chaise, then stood behind it, wanting the table between us.

I was beyond pleased to see his entire shoulder wrapped in a bandage and another around his middle. He was shirtless due to his many gauze wrappings on his upper body and wore only a black skirt ending above his knees. His left eye was swollen and purpling, and there was another cut that ran from his jaw to his neck. Julian must’ve barely skated his blade, Ciprian escaping a fatal blow there .

While I took in all of the damage my mate had done to him, he perused my face and body at length, knowing he could fully inspect my naked form through the sheer tunic I was forced to wear. It was indecent, and exactly what I’d expect from a man like him.

I held my chin high and stared directly at him, not letting him see that I was in any way uncomfortable in my new garb.

“Yes,” he said at length, “I can see what Julianus is so bothered about. But tell me, witch.”

He paused while Rhea poured his wine, then she stood against the back wall of his smallish parlor for dining. His house was not nearly the palatial splendor of Julian’s—no marble floors or sculptures, nor the wide atrium filled with plants and a fountain. His home was at the foot of Palatine Hill, but still upon it, marking him a patrician. Yet it was obvious his family wasn’t the level of aristocrat as Julian. Not nearly so.

It all made me wonder how he was in such good favor with the emperor, who seemed to only delight in the company of the wealthiest, oldest families of Rome. Ciprian’s might be an old, aristocratic family, but they were certainly not the wealthiest.

“Tell me.” Ciprian grinned and stared like the demonic fiend he was. “How did you help the Celts defeat Bastius three times before Julianus showed up and took care of business?”

“I don’t know what you mean. How could a mere woman help warriors in battle?”

I kept my expression tightly blank, showing no emotion whatsoever.

He chuckled and sipped his wine. “A mere woman cannot. But a witch can.”

“And what do you mean by a witch? Do you believe I enchanted the Romans my Celtic clansmen fought?”

“It was said you used some kind of witchcraft against them, made men abandon their legion and the battle itself. But strangely, no one who was there can remember anything at all. ”

“And how would I have such a gift to persuade warriors away from the field?”

“Only a witch could. One who’s been touched by the goddess Minerva. Who’s been given evil powers to use against men.”

“I am not Roman, nor am I Celtic. I am Dacian, and we do not worship your gods.” That was a lie since I’d already worshipped at Proserpina’s altar, praying for the souls of my sisters, Enid, and family. “Why would Minerva give me such a gift? I’m not Roman.”

“Minerva is a spiteful goddess,” he said in a low, angry tone. “She thinks herself better than her father, Jupiter, and her uncles, Neptune and Pluto, who declare the rightful order.”

“The rightful order of what, dominus?” I asked, playing the curious, submissive slave.

He smiled and shifted, placing his hand over his crotch and fondling himself. “Of your place. Minerva would give her powers to any she thought could use it against mankind. Like she did with Medusa.”

A tremble of awareness sent a spray of chills down my back. I knew the story of Medusa. Bunica had told the tale to me and my sisters countless times. I never understood why she was so fascinated with a Roman story until I began to feel the power taking root inside my mind and soul. Until that first time I’d reached out with my gift and latched onto my mother when she mourned her father’s death, and I had tethered to her for the first time to stop her pain. It was instinct. I didn’t understand my gift, but I felt it living and breathing deep inside my flesh and bones.

And when Bunica retold the terrible story of Medusa and Minerva’s gifts after that, I understood the intense look in my grandmother’s brown eyes and the reason why she reminded us of the story over and over again. Minerva had bestowed these gifts on us. And now I was the only one left to use them.

“So answer me this, Malina.” Ciprian’s grating voice brought me back to the present. “Are you a witch?”

“Of course not, dominus,” I answered easily. But I was a woman filled with a powerful mysticism, and I planned to use it on him with a vengeance.

He drank more wine, not touching his food, his eyes on me narrowing. “What does Julian say about me?”

“Pardon, dominus?”

“Don’t play coy. I know he talks about me.” He grinned as if proud of the fact. “And men like to talk after a good fuck. What’s he said?”

I clamped my jaw tight, trying not to answer, but his insinuation that I was nothing more than a body to be used by Julian stoked my ire. We were so much more than he could ever imagine, this pale shadow of a man next to Julian.

“He says that you are arrogant. That you try to climb above your station to be close to the emperor and that you’ll never replace him because his blood is from the Dakkia family.” I paused while Rhea gasped. “And your blood isn’t equal to his so you never will be good enough to sit upon the higher seats of Roman aristocracy.”

He stared, seething, while his face mottled red with splotches from both drink and anger.

“Sharp little tongue you’ve got,” he snapped. “I’m going to put it to better use.”

He gulped down the rest of his wine and banged the goblet on the table, then he began unbuckling the belt at his waist and unwrapping the front flap of his skirt.

“Rhea!” he bellowed, though she was standing right behind me. “Come suck my cock. Let’s show the new girl how I like it done. Then we’ll give her a turn.”

Fury shot through my frame. This disgusting piece of filth. He was going to put me in my place, but not before he degraded Rhea first right in front of me.

Rhea was already hurrying to kneel before him at the chaise. How many times had he made her do this, I wondered for a split second before I summoned my witchcraft, as Ciprian had called it .

With a violent snap, I latched onto his essence. Like last night, his spirit was cold and writhing and putrid beneath my tether, but I locked on hard all the same, coiling my power line around him. Tonight, I didn’t want to put him to sleep. I wanted him in pain . Excruciating pain.

He had his hand on Rhea’s head while she fumbled to open his skirt flap. He pushed her down toward his erection. “That’s right. Let’s show her how it’s done.”

Then he looked up at me, grinning.

I’d never done this before, but I instinctually sought the most roiling, nauseating, foul emotion I could muster, then I shot it like a poisoned dart through the bond.

One second, he was smiling, gloating at the power he had over a helpless girl like Rhea, then his face went ghostly pale and he shot upright, shoving Rhea away. He vomited a stream of red all over himself—the wine he’d been imbibing all night, it seemed. For there was quite a lot of it.

“Pluto’s cock!” he gasped, choking, then he lurched forward onto his knees next to the chaise, heaving and vomiting onto the floor.

Rhea had screamed, jumped to her feet, and scrambled away. But I stood perfectly still and watched the master of the house expel his entire stomach until he had bile dripping disgustingly from his chin. Other slaves ran into the room.

“Dominus! Let me help you!” The big one who’d summoned us to dinner was there on the floor, helping him up and hauling him away, all while Ciprian dry heaved and moaned in agony, cursing in between.

When Ciprian’s body slave had gotten him out of the room, and I presume into his bedchamber, we could still hear him crying out and moaning in torment.

“What happened?” yelled the cook, a thick woman, standing in the opposite doorway. “What food made him sick?” She wrung her hands, expression fearful .

“He didn’t eat anything,” I replied calmly. “He only drank the wine. Could it be something the physician gave him?”

The cook frowned and nodded. “Could be. The physician gave me something to put in his willow bark tea for pain.” Then she hurried back toward the kitchen, mumbling, “He’ll need a sleeping draught.”

I turned to Rhea, whose mouth gaped and eyes were wide with shock. “Do you think he was poisoned?” she whispered.

“No,” I answered.

Rhea blinked. “I suppose we better clean this up.”

We both stared down at the disgusting mess he’d left behind. “Much nicer job than sucking his cock,” I said dryly.

Rhea burst into laughter, then covered her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered, “I much prefer cleaning that than servicing him.”

“Come on. Let’s get started, then we can go to bed.”

She stared down the hallway, eyes widening with distress. “Do you think he will come back after…?”

Another loud moan echoed through the house.

“No. He’s done for the night. And Cook is making him a sleeping draught.” I held on to the tether, though it was loosening now that he’d left my presence. I’d never been able to hold on to someone for long outside of my sight. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.”

It was foul work, but I smiled the whole time. When we passed over the floors with soapy water a second time, my arms buckled and I nearly banged my head on the stone floor.

“Are you all right?” asked Rhea.

“Just tired.” My body was weak from the energy I’d used on Ciprian. I hadn’t been this exhausted from using my magic since I’d been with the Celts, tethering to the Roman soldiers in Legatus Bastius’s legion.

Cook had given Ciprian the draught while we cleaned, but I’d held on to my tether to him, still worried he’d somehow recover and come after me and Rhea again. It had entirely drained me .

“Come,” said Rhea, helping me to my feet. “It’s time for bed.”

I didn’t argue as she dumped our rags in the bucket and carried it with us back to our quarters. We washed in her bedchamber, the one I was meant to share with her since there were no other available ones.

Wearied, I climbed into her small bed next to her, pulling the covers under my chin as I lay on my side, watching the open doorway. There were no doors on the servants’ bedchambers. Apparently, Ciprian didn’t think slaves needed privacy so he refused to give them doors. One more indignation.

Rhea faced the other way but her body heat warmed me. It was a small comfort in this desolate place.

“Does he ever seek you out in the daytime?” I asked, afraid he might come back in the morning.

“No,” she answered sleepily, as if it was of no consequence. “He is busy with his new soldiers and officers all day now. He is preparing for his first campaign, whenever the emperor tells him where he is to go.”

I exhaled a small sigh of relief, finally letting go of the tether I’d kept around Ciprian’s dark soul. A well of release washed through me at being free of him. I fell instantly into a deep sleep.

That night, I fell into a vivid dream. A nightmare.

I flew through the night sky, my arms spread wide, a flowing white gown billowing at my ankles. Then a terrifying roar startled me, causing me to spin midair. It was Ciprian in dragon form, black scales shining beneath the moonlight. His red eyes glowed and he snapped his jaws as he barreled closer. I floated and waited for him.

When he opened his jaws to eat me, I wrapped my arms around his snout, and my tether—a tangible golden rope—burst from my chest and coiled around his legs and wings, binding him tight. I stared into one of his gleaming red eyes and whispered, “Fire.”

Then we were diving down, the stars falling with us, streaming like burning souls toward the earth. Before we hit the ground, I burst into flames, and I heard Julian screaming my name.