Page 5 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

IV

MALINA

I awoke to the smell of baking bread and the prickling sensation of being watched. When I bolted upright and looked at the door, a curly-haired boy quickly ducked outside, leaving the door wide open.

“She’s awake, Kara!” a boy’s voice echoed, obviously the one who’d been spying on me.

“Stop being a pest and get me that goat’s milk or you’ll have no breakfast at all,” a woman snapped back at him.

“But I want to meet her,” whined the boy .

The morning light in the window told me the sun was well up. I’d slept hard, which was strange in itself, considering where I was.

Quickly, I got out of bed and straightened it, then looked for my shoes that I’d left behind the changing screen. They were gone, as were my torn and soiled clothes I’d come in.

The washbasin was empty, but there was a pitcher filled with clean water and a bowl on the side table along with a frayed stick and tooth powder for cleaning my teeth. There were also small ties set beside the comb I’d used last night. For tying back my hair, I presumed.

Strange. This wasn’t what I expected to wake to.

I combed my hair and braided it into a long rope down my back, then used the abrasive, gritty powder and frayed stick to brush my teeth before rinsing thoroughly.

“Are you ever going to come out of your room?” came that same boy’s voice.

I stepped from behind the screen to find a tall, gangly boy probably around ten. He grinned wide when he saw me, revealing dimples. “I’m Stefanos.”

He was a handsome child wearing a brown tunic and dark pants. He frowned down at my feet. “You need shoes.”

“The ones I came in are gone,” I told him.

He walked to the foot of my bed and opened my trunk. “Try these.” He set a well-made pair of sandals on the stone floor. “Or maybe these.” He set out another pair that covered more of the foot.

The second pair actually fit fairly well. I sat on the bed to strap them on. “You keep random pairs of shoes in the house?”

“Here, let me help you.” He quickly knelt at my feet and took over looping the straps around my ankle. “Yes. Dominus never knows when a new member might join our household.”

Member. I tried not to laugh at his kind tone, mentioning members joining the house like it was a choice. Like we’d want to join this household .

“My name is Malina.”

“You’re very pretty,” he said sweetly, flashing me that wide smile again.

I peered down at him with warmth, having nearly forgotten the openness of children, saying what they thought without a care. Still, he seemed rather old to speak so freely.

“Thank you, Stefanos.”

My gut clenched when I realized what he was wearing around his neck. A rudimentary metal chain, and chiseled into a steel plate at the middle was the name JULIANUS IGNIS DAKKIA . It was his slave collar. Then my stomach flipped with nausea again at what the collar mostly hid—a deep scar running the length of his thin throat. This boy had once nearly been killed by someone’s blade.

“Thank you for helping me with my shoes,” I told him kindly, hiding the anxiety I felt for him.

Another sweet smile then he finished the last strap.

“Come with me,” he said excitedly. “You must meet Kara.”

We went down the hallway only a few feet before we stepped into a long kitchen with a row of windows open to a stable yard. A large pen of chickens clucked outside. But my attention was on the short, stout woman with dark hair rolling dough onto her work table.

“Stefanos,” she snapped. “Get the milk or there’ll be no breakfast for you.”

He rolled his eyes but then hurried out the door leading to the stable yard, disappearing somewhere to the left beyond the windows. When I turned to the woman, she was still kneading the dough but her hard gaze was on me.

“You’re not Celtic.” Her voice sounded accusing.

I shook my head. “Dacian.”

“Dominus brought you from the Celtic battlefields, Ruskus said.”

“That’s correct.” I straightened under her scrutiny, realizing this was an interrogation. “My people were killed. The Celts took me in. ”

She continued to knead, glancing my way with sharp, dark looks. “I’m Kara. I run the kitchen.”

I remained quiet under her accusing look, then nodded. If she thought I was after her job, she was mistaken. I was hoping to go as unnoticed as possible. It would make it easier for me to escape.

She slapped the dough down and dusted her hands on her apron. “I understand you’re to attend the master. But when you’re not, you can help me. There’s always work to be done.”

And yet, last night, Julian had told me he had plenty of slaves to do all of his household chores.

“How many are there serving this house?”

“There are four of us. Five now.” She gestured toward the window. “Ivo keeps to the stables and yard most of the time. His room is in the stables.” She arched a brow at me. “Though he doesn’t speak, he can hear well enough. So don’t think to sneak off that way. It would do you no good. You’d never get far.”

I don’t know how Kara could tell I was already planning my escape. I forced my features into blankness. “I had no intentions.”

She humphed while I peered through the window at the gargantuan man feeding the chickens. He had short dark hair and clucked to the chickens while they paraded around him.

So five of us. That seemed like a small staff of servants for a house this size.

At that moment, Ruskus entered the kitchen. He shared a look with Kara, then walked toward me, his limp not as prominent this morning. He reminded me of a man back home in Dacia who had a similar lame foot. His limp always worsened as the day went on.

“You need to put this on, girl.” He lifted a chain similar to what I’d just seen on Stefanos.

I quickly noticed they both wore their own collars as well.

Ruskus stopped, seeming uncomfortable and frowning as he turned to Kara. “You’d better help her. ”

I remained still, staring at them while Kara went and took the chain from him. “Well, come here. Stop gawping.”

It wasn’t as if I had a choice. My fate was sealed, and yet that reckless part of me wanted to scream in defiance. I didn’t, of course. I gritted my teeth and clamped my mouth shut tight as I walked over to Kara.

“You’ll have to take whatever that other thing is off.”

That was when I found my voice. “No.”

Kara frowned at me. “It’ll chafe your neck, the two rubbing against each other.”

“This one is leather. It’ll be fine.”

I didn’t pull the necklace from inside my tunic. I always kept it hidden. It was a miracle it hadn’t been snatched from my neck after having it so long.

Lady Fortuna smiles upon you, Malina.

I shivered as the memory of Julian standing with me in the darkness last night came back. How could he say such a thing? She had abandoned me. I wondered if my own gods of Dacia were punishing me for putting my faith in a foreign goddess.

Yet still, I couldn’t remove the coin. It was a talisman I couldn’t give up, even when I knew it was likely causing my own misfortune.

Kara finished linking the chain beneath my braid. “Stop your scowling,” she snapped. “This necklace will keep you safe.”

I snorted a laugh. “Safe? My master’s collar?”

“The master’s name,” she corrected, wearing a deep frown. “No one will dare harm you with his name around your neck. You should be thankful.”

A sharp pang of grief struck me then. What would become of Enid now?

“Enough. The master is up,” snapped Ruskus gruffly.

Kara nodded to Ruskus and rounded back to her table and her dough. “You can eat breakfast later. ”

I wasn’t hungry, so it was no difference to me. I followed Ruskus along the path I’d taken last night, but in the light of day I was able to see how opulent and beautiful Julian’s home truly was.

Tall columns painted in red and gold adorned every entryway. There were intricate mural mosaics on every wall—floral and pastoral scenes. There was a giant one in the floor near the atrium in what looked like a gathering hall for guests. The mosaic was of Diana the huntress in half-skin drawing her bow, her wings flared, her tail curling behind her, and her gaze intent as she aimed for some unseen prey.

The hall with the Diana mosaic was filled with low chaise sofas, velvet cushions on the floor, and a large plush rug beneath—a lounging room for feasts and entertaining.

I wondered how often Julian held celebrations here. I hoped never. The idea of a room full of Romans drinking and feasting while I was forced to serve them made me nauseous. Besides, rumors of how Romans used their slaves for entertainment at bacchanal gatherings filled me with a new dread. I refused to become a toy to be used and abused by these creatures. I had to make a plan of escape before that happened.

Ruskus wound us back down the long corridor to Julian’s bedchamber. He stopped at the open doorway, waited for me to go in, then left. He didn’t wait to be dismissed like last night.

The room was unchanged from the night before. I glanced at the chair and sofa where he’d interrogated me. His large bed sat facing the open terrace doors. It was sized to accommodate him, of course, with thick wooden posts and a canopy holding sheer curtains. The bed linens were rumpled where he’d slept. I frowned at the intimate scene and at the fact it would be my job to tidy it for him.

My gaze caught on a shelf to my right filled with both papyrus scrolls and bound books. Unable to help myself, I wandered to it, dragging my finger along the worn spines. Not bothering with the papyrus rolls, I plucked a bound book from the shelf. I expected something on military warfare, frowning down at the title of a Greek tragedy.

Setting it back, I pulled out another and opened to the middle. This one was written in Latin. The author droned on about the key to happiness and finding inner peace. I huffed a laugh.

“Something funny?”

I snapped the book shut at his deep voice. Julian stood just beyond a dressing screen, watching me. He wore a short red tunic that revealed far too much of his thick thighs, and he was wrapping the extra fabric of the robe across one shoulder.

Hurrying to put the book back in place, I turned and waited for him to yell at me for touching his things.

“You’re late,” was all he said. His expression was calm as he stood with the robe only partially draped over one shoulder.

“I apologize,” I stammered quickly. “I am not yet used to…” I shook my head, trying to find the words.

“Your new home?” He raised his brows in question.

I merely nodded.

“Come here.” He watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to defy him.

I walked closer.

For a brief moment, he simply stared, but I couldn’t hold that gaze any longer. It made me feel confused and uncertain. I didn’t like feeling that way. The one thing in my life I’d always been able to control was my emotions—and those of others when I needed to.

“Tuck this fold in the back.” He turned.

It finally dawned on me that he’d simply wanted me to do my job, to assist in dressing him. After taking some instruction on how to properly drape and tuck it, I stepped away.

“Kara is always up with the sun,” he said as he turned to face me. “I’ll instruct her to be sure you’re up as well. ”

Though his tone held no anger, it was obvious he was displeased with my tardiness.

“And do you always wake with the sun?” I asked, wincing at my own sharp tone.

I instantly dropped my gaze toward the ground, but I didn’t miss his stiffening posture as he crossed his arms.

“Look at me, Malina.”

Inwardly cursing myself, I lifted my gaze to his. There was now certainly a look of displeasure creasing his brow.

“Now look behind me. Do you see the number of archways facing east? I wake with the sun.”

“You could add drapes if you wish it.”

He scowled deeper, then scoffed. “So that I could lounge in bed all day,” he said with disgust, more as a statement than a question. “I am a busy man. There is much work to do. I expect you to adhere to my schedule and to do your own work while I am away from my home.”

His tone was clearly chastising, declaring his irritation. I blew out a shallow breath, realizing, as Lela had always told me, that I was reckless. My mouth often got me into trouble.

He remained still, watching me with those unnatural eyes, jaw clenching.

“I’ll be gone most of the day. After you see to my room, you are to help Kara with whatever she needs.”

“Where are you going?”

He huffed a sigh of irritation. “It is none of your business where I am going. It is not your place to ask.”

“I apologize. Again.” I wrung my hands together in front of me. “I often ask too many questions.”

A tension-filled pause stretched between us as he continued to examine me with those golden eyes. I was the one to break the stare and lower my gaze demurely, trying and failing to be the submissive slave he expected .

“You may ask me anything you like… in private,” he said softly but then added with cold command, “Outside of this house, you will be submissive, obedient, and silent.”

Again, I was confused. Why would he allow me any leniency at all? But I knew when I was being granted a boon. I nodded.

When he walked around me toward the hallway, he cleared his throat and seemed to add begrudgingly, “If it satisfies your inappropriate curiosity, I’m going to the forum today. I have business to attend.”

“Is the slave market in the forum?”

“Yes.” He rounded, his scowl still in place. “What of it?”

“Would you—” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous, knowing desperation shook my voice. I’d already angered him but I simply had to ask, “Could you please take me with you to see if there is one person from the Celtic tribes? Would you please buy her?”

“Why would I do that?”

“She is an excellent seamstress.”

“I don’t need a seamstress.” He turned to walk away.

I fell onto my knees and gripped the hem of his toga. “Please.”

Slowly, he turned back to me and stared, his eyes burning brighter. “What are you doing?” he growled.

“It’s obvious. I’m begging you to save a woman. She is a hard worker.” My heart raced faster as I clung to his robe, realizing how vulnerable I was on my knees before him.

“I don’t need another slave,” he growled. “I didn’t even need you, ” he added gruffly, frustration obvious in his voice.

“Please,” I pleaded, voice shaking. “She took me in. When no one else would. I owe her my life.”

Holding my gaze, he reached down. I didn’t flinch or move away when the pads of his fingers coasted from the base of my throat up the column, two fingers lingering where my pulse beat hardest.

“You’re afraid,” he stated, brushing the pads of his fingers along the hollow of my throat and back up to my chin .

“For her, yes. For Enid.”

His fingers lightly held my chin, his voice rumbling in a low, silken voice. “And what will you give me if I do this for you?”

I swallowed hard, terrified at his quiet question and all of the favors he might require for this trade. My chest rising and falling faster, I whispered, “Whatever you want.”

He arched a dark brow, pinching my chin softly between two fingers. “Is that so?”

I didn’t move a muscle, but held his gaze. Or rather, he held mine. I was his complete captive in that moment, unable to look away, unable to move.

“You know they think you’re a witch, don’t you?” His voice was soft, melodious, even as his grip on my chin hardened.

“Yes.”

“I want to know more of your craft, little witch.”

“I’ve already told you.”

He huffed a laugh, though there was little merriment in it. “You’ve told me very little. Just enough to get the Roman general to stop asking you questions. But I want to know more of what you can do.”

“So that you can use it against others in battle?” I snapped, even while I was on my knees at his feet.

He smiled. “Does it matter what I do with the information? You are mine, Malina, to do with as I will.”

I scowled, and there was no doubt he could misread the anger burning in my eyes. It only made him smile wider.

“There’s the firebird.” He loosened his hold, brushing his thumb beneath my bottom lip, lingering in a way that made me shiver before he withdrew his hand. “Do we have a bargain? Every night when you serve me dinner, you will answer any question I ask about your mystical gift. Honestly. In return, I will save your Enid. If she is still alive.”

I flinched at that last part but then I nodded .

“Say ‘yes, dominus’ so that I have your unwavering agreement.”

“Yes, dominus,” I said on a quivering breath.

He dipped his chin and straightened to his full height. “Stand up.”

I did. But then I gasped when he gripped me around the upper arms, drawing me close. His features hardened, but his timbre was even harder when he said, “Do you know the significance of what I’m wearing?”

I shook my head.

“It is the color of my house. Do you know the lineage of dragons?”

Swallowing hard, I whispered, “Yes. My grandmother taught me.”

He grunted. “Smart woman. You can pick out the Roman citizens in the crowds. The patricians will be wearing a toga, stola, sash, or even a pendant with the jewels of their house color.” His penetrating glare kept me silent. “Do you know all of the houses?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Good.” His eyes narrowed. “Your gaze is too direct. Don’t look a dragon in the eyes. Ever. Do you understand? Remember who you are.”

“I know who I am,” I snapped back, pride burning the words out of my mouth.

For some reason, that softened his expression. “No, Malina.” He drew me closer, the anger gone, some other emotion dancing in his golden eyes. Even as an empath, I couldn’t place it. “In Rome, you are no longer one of the beautiful Bihari sisters dancing for crowds under the shadow of your beloved Carpathian Mountains.”

My breath hitched that he’d known my full name. That he spoke to me with such tender intimacy, all while he was obviously putting me in my place.

“You are no longer the witch who aided the Celts against the Roman legions,” he said softly.

“Who am I, then?” I asked on a trembling voice.

“In Rome, you are no one. A slave. One of many. ”

My entire body shook with both fear and fury, a commingling of emotions that kept me speechless. For what could I say? He was right. I’d lost everything. And everyone. I was alone and nothing more than what my Roman master allowed me to be.

Finally, he let me go. “Follow me.”