Page 19 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

T he sun beat down as Max and Volusia made their way through the city gates of Rome. A steady flow of people proceeded through the gates, mostly farmers, craftsmen, and merchants come to sell their wares to the urban population. Max and Volusia blended into the crowd.

Max’s jaw tensed as soon as the walls of the city were behind them. He’d grown up in the city, yes, but ever since he’d experienced the fresh air and expanse of the countryside, merely stepping foot in the city made him feel trapped and suffocated.

Max dismounted, then helped Volusia down. They’d need to walk the horses through the busy, twisting city streets.

Volusia was quiet as they walked through the city, proceeding from the outskirts to the more central neighborhood where her family lived. He guessed she was bracing herself for the reunion that was about to come, and all the emotions it would entail.

He didn’t speak, but kept a gentle hand on her elbow, guiding her around potholes and piles of refuse in the streets. Most well-bred Roman ladies traveled solely by litter, so he doubted she had ever actually walked the streets of the city in which she lived.

They passed several blocks teeming with over-crowded apartment buildings that always seemed at risk of toppling—similar to where Max had grown up—and crossed into the more fashionable neighborhood on the Caelian Hill where Volusia’s family lived. The streets were wide and quiet, swept clean in front of each house by household slaves.

When they reached her family’s house, Volusia stopped short. Leafy cypress branches, just beginning to brown, were nailed to the door, a sign that death had visited this family.

Max secured the horses' reins to a post outside. Volusia reached out a trembling hand and knocked on the door. A moment later, a slat in the door slid back, revealing the face of a young man. He stared at Volusia, blinking, for several moments, as befuddlement spread across his face.

She smiled uncertainly. “Hello, Orion.”

The young man finally found his voice. “My lady! Is it really you? We thought—”

“Yes, I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding. I’m not dead, as you can see. Now, may I please come in?”

“Of course, lady.” Orion’s face disappeared from the small window, and there was a scraping sound as he unbarred the door. It swung open, and Max followed Volusia into the shadowy antechamber.

Memories of the last time he’d been here flooded back: the night she’d kissed him and he’d subsequently been thrown out by her stepfather, Rufus. So much had changed since then. His adolescent infatuation with Volusia had been tempered over their decade apart, like molten metal hardening into a finished object, but it had never left him. Now, after all they had been through, all he had sacrificed for her, his love for her was stronger than ever. The pain of their imminent parting already sliced at him, mingling in a bittersweet jumble with the satisfaction of bringing her safely home.

Orion ran off to fetch Volusia’s parents. Max and Volusia crossed into the atrium. Max eyed a column on the other side of the room. Behind that column was the spot they’d first kissed, ten long years ago.

Hurried footsteps sounded, and Volusia’s stepfather burst into the atrium, closely followed by her mother, Sabina. Rufus’s scrawny frame seemed to have become even thinner since Max had last seen him, and dark shadows hovered beneath his eyes. Despite Max’s deep dislike for Rufus, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy for how the news of Volusia’s apparent death had affected him.

Sabina, too, looked pale and exhausted. She stopped short, and a small cry flew from her mouth at the sight of Volusia. She faltered for a moment, and Rufus caught her elbow. His gaze lit on Max with incomprehension, then passed over him to fasten on Volusia.

Volusia launched herself forward, and both parents swept her into an embrace. Max hung back, trying to fade into the shadows of the atrium. A flurry of weeping and half-gasped questions sounded from the cluster of people. Volusia answered, explaining an abbreviated version of the events which had led them here.

“They will pay for this,” Rufus growled, still clinging to Volusia. “To treat the wife of a governor thus—” His eyes, usually so cold and ruthless, shone with tears, and Max felt another unwilling stab of compassion for the man.

Another figure entered the room, a small boy who had to be Volusia’s son, Lucius. He had Avitus’s gray eyes and dark hair, but Volusia’s fair complexion and slender build. He blinked at the scene before him. “What’s going on? You’ve interrupted my lesson.”

Rufus and Sabina released Volusia, who turned to see her son. “Oh, my darling,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Mama?” He stared at her. “Grandfather said you were in Hades. Did you escape? Did you see Cerberus? Does he really have three heads?”

Volusia’s lips twitched in a smile even as a tear trickled down her cheek. “There was a mistake, my love. I wasn’t in Hades. Just Gaul.”

“Oh.” The child looked a trifle disappointed for a moment, then ran to Volusia and hugged her tight. She dropped to her knees and wrapped him in her arms. Her frame shook gently with sobs.

Lucius pulled back from the embrace, his eyes lighting with excitement. “Does this mean Papa isn’t in Hades either? Is he coming back too?”

Volusia kissed him on the forehead. “No, my darling. I’m very sorry, but Papa’s not coming back.”

“Oh.” His lips trembled, and he sniffled. Volusia folded him into her arms once more.

Max’s throat tightened at Volusia’s reunion with her son. Watching them together, he suddenly felt out of place. He was intruding on a moment that didn’t belong to him. No one seemed to notice him; Volusia’s entire focus was Lucius, and Rufus was holding Sabina, who was sobbing against his chest.

It was time to leave. He had fulfilled his mission of bringing her home. She was back with her family, and she no longer needed him.

Max slipped out of the atrium and nodded to Orion, who had resumed his post by the front door. “Please tell her I returned to my family. She can reach me there if she needs me,” Max said.

Orion bowed his head and hauled open the front door. “Yes, sir.”

Max left the house, and untied the horses' reins from the post outside. He felt strangely bereft as he led the animals through the streets. Volusia had been by his side day and night for so many days, through so much hardship and uncertainty. He hardly knew what to do with himself without her.

But the sight of her son brought one fact into clear focus: Volusia had more important things to worry about now than whatever fragile thing was between her and Max. Lucius would always be first in her mind, as the boy should be, and every decision she made would be for him.

Max crossed the city to the neighborhood on the Esquiline Hill where his adoptive family lived. It was a less ostentatious area than where Volusia’s family lived, filled with respectable but smaller homes.

His pace slowed as the door to the house came into view. It, too, was adorned with a cypress branch to signify mourning. His chest constricted, but he took a deep breath and walked up to knock on the door.

Paris, one of the household slaves, speechlessly let him in. Max strode into the atrium. He stopped short at the sight of Gaia, his grandmother, sitting in a sunny spot in the atrium weaving. Memories rushed over him. As a child, he used to sit on the floor and watch her weave—one of the few times he sat still. He remembered the soothing motion of the shuttle through the warp threads, the rhythmic sweep of the loom.

Her head turned toward him. Her graying hair now bore streaks of silver, which hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her.

The wooden shuttle dropped from her hand and clattered to the stone floor. She shot to her feet, her golden skin blanching. “Max,” she whispered. “Is it…is it really…” She wavered.

In several long strides, he closed the distance between them and grasped her shoulders to steady her. “It’s me,” he said, his voice suddenly raspy.

She gave a little cry and collapsed into his arms, clutching him with desperate fingers. He embraced her gently. Gaia had always been slight, but she felt thinner, more fragile since the last time he’d hugged her upon leaving for Gaul.

Paris must have fetched Aelius and Crispina, for they stumbled into the atrium a few moments later.

“Max,” Crispina gasped. She gripped Aelius’s hand, knuckles white. Aelius was struck dumb. He was thirteen years older than Crispina, and right now Max could see every one of his fifty-two years. Lines were etched around his eyes and mouth, and a sprinkling of gray lightened his hair.

“They told us you were dead!” Crispina hissed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t send word,” Max said. “It’s a long story. But I’m not dead, as you can see.”

Gaia disentangled herself from Max to make room for Aelius and Crispina, and a moment later he was sagging under the weight of his adoptive parents’ embrace.

“How could this happen?” Crispina demanded. “They said you and Rufus’s daughter had drowned in an accident on your way back to Rome.”

Max tried to explain as concisely as he could. “Volusia was planning to accuse the legion’s commander of murdering her husband. So he gave orders for her to be killed on the journey. I…” He hesitated. “I defended her, and we made it look like we’d been swept away by a river.”

“Gods below,” Crispina swore.

A smile wavered on Aelius’s lips, and he spoke for the first time. “You did say you wanted adventure when you joined the army.”

Max grinned. “I did, didn’t I?” Then he sobered. “I’m afraid that sort of adventure is done for me. I disobeyed and attacked a commanding officer. I’ll be lucky to escape a trial for mutiny.”

“We won’t let anything of the sort happen to you,” Crispina said, her voice ringing with determination. “Besides, Rufus will no doubt pull every string he can to seek justice for his daughter. That must clear your name, as well.”

Max nodded. “That’s the plan.” His stomach gave a loud growl.

“You poor thing, you must be starving.” Gaia stepped forward to take his arm. “Let’s see about some food.”

“Thank you, Grandmother.” He couldn’t resist a smirk. Gaia had always hated when he called her Grandmother.

She shot him a good-natured glare. “I shall forgive that one, seeing as you’ve only recently returned from the dead.”

“I wonder what else I can get away with.” He chuckled, and followed her in the direction of the kitchen.

An hour later, Max had been fed, dressed in fresh clothes, and thoroughly questioned. His family wanted to know every detail about what had transpired on the journey to Rome. He told them everything except what had happened between him and Volusia, claiming that his defense of her had been motivated purely by honor. He sensed a touch of suspicion in Crispina’s gaze, but she didn’t challenge him.

After a hearty meal, he left the house to head to the closest baths. Finally, he’d get truly clean after weeks of hard travel.

Max entered the grand, columned building which housed the baths, paid the entrance fee, and stripped in the changing room, stowing his clothes in a cubby. He took a towel with him into the next room, which contained a round, steaming pool. Lamps were mounted on the walls, but the room was almost completely dark otherwise. There was only one other person soaking at the other side of the pool. Max was grateful the baths weren’t crowded; he didn’t feel like socializing.

He laid his towel on a bench and stepped into the hot water. The heat washed over him in a rush. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the marble edge of the pool, submerging himself up to his neck. Sweat broke out on his face in the dark, stifling room. The muscles of his neck and shoulders finally relaxed, letting go of the stress that had gripped him for so long.

He had succeeded in bringing Volusia home. She was safe, reunited with her family. Their families no longer thought they were dead. Everything, for a moment at least, was all right.

Two things still nagged at him. Firstly, there was the matter of Elephant. He needed to find his horse. If he were Glabrio, and found himself with an extra horse, what would he do?

Sell her was the likely answer. Anxiety swelled in his chest at the thought of Elephant being thrust into unknown hands. If he was lucky, Glabrio had waited until they reached Rome to sell her, rather than passing her off somewhere along the journey. Max would have to visit every horse dealer he could find and ask if they’d seen her. Luckily, Elephant was a fine horse, and would have fetched a good price. The dealers would remember her.

He felt better once he’d made a plan to find Elephant, but the other thing that bothered him was not so easy to resolve. His feelings for Volusia had become impossible to ignore, and he could no longer tell himself it had just been a childhood infatuation. He had to hope his feelings would fade once they were no longer bound together by danger.

But the ache under his ribs made him fear she wouldn’t be so easy to leave behind. Despite the stress of their journey, he missed the nights they’d spent together snuggled in an uncomfortable bed at an inn or a pile of straw in a barn. He already missed her constant presence at his side.

He wondered if she had spared him a thought after returning home. No doubt she was entirely focused on her son, as she should be. He should do the same, and set his feelings for her aside.

Water splashed as the man on the other side of the pool climbed out. Max glanced over. Lamplight caught the man’s face, and Max squinted. He looked uncannily like…

“Silvanus?” Max’s voice echoed around the room.

The man grabbed his towel, threw it around his waist, and hurried from the room. Max settled back into the pool. His eyes were playing tricks on him in the dim light. Avitus’s secretary had stayed in Narbo. His mind was too full with thoughts of Volusia.

Once his skin was pink with heat, he rose out of the bath, wrapping a towel around his waist, and moved into the next room, the frigidarium. A dome rose over the large, deep pool, and windows high in the walls let in shafts of light, shimmering on the water. He tossed the towel onto a bench, held his breath, and plunged into the freezing water.

The shock of the cold consumed him for an exhilarating instant. He rose, gasping, and slicked back his hair, wishing the water could wash away his fruitless longing for Volusia.