Page 70 of Taming the Eagle

Shouting rang through the courtyard then, men’s voices.

Not in her tongue, but in Latin.

Fenella’s belly swooped when a familiar, broad-shouldered figure burst into the courtyard, a purple cloak billowing behind him.

He’s alive!

The dawn sunlight gleamed off Justin Aquila’s helmet as he cut down any warrior who crossed his path. He’d returned to the praetorium—and just in time too. Three of his men followed close behind, sword-blades dark with blood.

But Fenella couldn’t take her gaze off Justin. Even at this distance, she spied the gore that splattered him; his fine purple cloak was filthy and rent.

The warrior Fenella had been fighting whirled away from her, flinging himself at the general. But moments later, he too fell under Aquila’s blade. And shortly after, all the attackers lay dead or twitching on the courtyard pavers.

Breathing hard, Justin kicked his last opponent’s body aside and moved forward. His gaze swept the faces of his slaves. Aedan was bent double, struggling to catch his breath after the furious fight. He’d suffered a shallow cut to one arm but appeared otherwise uninjured. Behind him, Kahina still held her bloody spear in a death grip, her face splattered with blood.

Justin’s gaze came to rest upon Fenella. “Are you hurt?” he rasped.

She shook her head. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt as if it might burst from her chest.

“The siege?” Aedan panted.

“It’s over. The fort is secure once more.”

Fenella’s gaze flew wide.It is?

Justin glanced around. “Where are Caius and Ava?”

“In the kitchen,” Fenella replied. “They’re safe.”

Nodding, Justin stepped forward, searching Fenella’s face as if making sure that she was indeed unhurt. “The attackers scaled the walls and tried to torch the buildings … but we drove them back in the end.” He paused then. “Toutorix is dead.”

Fenella’s heart lurched against her ribs, weakness flooding through her limbs. She must have swayed upon her feet, for Justin reached out, his hand fastening around her arm, steadying her.

Her reaction had unsettled him; she saw it in his gaze. However, his jaw unclenched when she finally murmured, “Good.”

Dizziness swept over her then, queasiness curdling her belly. It wasn’t grief for her traitorous husband, she was glad Toutorix was dead, but fear for her kin.

Justin’s news boded ill for her father and brother.

Have they fallen?

She glanced then at Kahina. The slave’s face was composed, although her eyes glinted. Fenella’s breathing grew shallow. This was Kahina’s chance to drop her in it—to tell Justin she’d planned to escape.

The two women’s gazes fused for a long moment before Kahina’s attention flicked to her master.

Holding her breath, Fenella braced herself.

“What of Centurion Camillus?” Kahina asked.

Exhaling sharply, Fenella raised a trembling hand to her breast.

Not noticing Fenella’s reaction, Justin focused on Kahina instead. His face turned grave. “Marcus took a spear to the chest,” he murmured. “He’s been taken to hospital … and is in the hands of a surgeon now.”

Fenella found Kahina in their cubliculum, seated upon her sleeping pallet, head in her hands. The door was open, letting in daylight, for—like the other rooms in this building—the room was windowless. During the day, the light filtered in from the doors that ringed the portico.

Wordlessly, Fenella moved across to the pallet and lowered herself down upon it.

“Kahina,” she murmured, placing a hand upon her friend’s trembling shoulder. “Are you unwell?”