Page 26 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

T he litter swayed to a stop and gently lowered until it rested on the street. Volusia brushed the curtains back and peered out into the street. She frowned. “Are you sure this is the right address?” she asked Triton, the closest litter bearer.

“Yes, lady,” he said. “This is the address that Orion gave us.”

After a few days of searching, Orion had succeeded in finding someone who knew Silvanus and where he lived, for which Volusia had rewarded him handsomely. Today, Volusia had set off to speak with Silvanus. She’d taken a risk by arriving unannounced, but she feared that he’d ignore her letter if she sent a message first. They hadn’t parted on the best terms in Narbo.

She’d expected to find Silvanus living in a humble home on the outskirts of Rome, or maybe in an apartment building somewhere. But this street was barely a few blocks from where her family lived, filled with grand homes. A senator lived around the corner. How had a former secretary come by such a prime location?

Triton walked up to the front door and knocked, then announced Volusia’s presence to the slave who answered the door. Volusia waited inside the litter as the slave went to alert Silvanus of her arrival. She wondered if he’d pretend not to be home.

But a few moments later, the door opened once more, and she was invited inside. Triton helped her down from the litter, and the four litter-bearers waited on the street as she entered the house.

“Please wait here, lady,” the slave said as she entered the atrium. “The master will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.” Volusia adjusted her palla as she glanced around the atrium. It was large and bare. No statues of ancestors adorned the space. The floor tiles had been half-chiseled off in one corner, perhaps to make room for a mosaic. The walls looked like they’d recently been given a fresh coat of paint. A few crates sat in the corner, likely belongings waiting to be unpacked.

Her list of questions for Silvanus was growing. A seed of suspicion took root. Why had he lied about staying in Narbo? Why had he come to Rome, where he had no family? And now, how could he afford a house like this in a prime neighborhood?

Silvanus entered the atrium. He no longer had the gaunt, exhausted look of the last time she’d seen him, and he’d exchanged his sober gray tunic for an embroidered blue one. A golden bangle adorned his slim wrist. She’d never seen him wear jewelry before.

His lips pulled down in a frown as he surveyed her. “Volusia. What are you doing here?”

She smiled despite the rude greeting. “Forgive me for the surprise. I heard that you’d returned to Rome, and I thought it would be nice to pay a visit.”

“ Nice ,” he repeated unenthusiastically.

“This is such a lovely home,” she said. “I didn’t realize you had connections in the city.”

“I don’t.” He stared at her in cold silence for a few long moments.

She realized he was trying to make this encounter awkward enough that she’d leave, but she would not be put off so easily. “Might I presume upon you for a cool beverage? It’s rather hot outside.”

He huffed. “I was just sitting down to lunch. I suppose you could join me.” He spoke the words as reluctantly as if he was suggesting she shave him bald.

“Oh, that would be lovely.” She summoned another bright, simpering smile, and followed him to the dining room on the other side of the atrium.

He had changed. As long as she’d known him, he’d always been courteous and even deferential to her. They had both seemed to have a tacit agreement to be civil to each other, to pretend for Avitus’s sake that they were well-disposed toward each other. Was this unpleasant, cold man the real Silvanus? Had the quiet, accommodating, competent secretary been just a facade?

They entered the dining room. A strange feeling came over Volusia as she saw the plates laid out on the low table, the jug of wine in the center. For a moment, she was back in their dining room in Narbo, back at the dinner where Avitus had taken ill. Her head spun with the force of the memory, and she had to reach for the wall to steady herself.

Silvanus spoke, his voice questioning, but the words didn’t penetrate her mind. She had thought back to that dinner a thousand times, had scoured her brain to pull out every detail.

She had assured herself that all three of them—herself, Avitus, and Silvanus—had taken food from the same platter and drank wine from the same jug. She remembered Silvanus commenting on how well-seasoned the duck was as he freshened Avitus’s goblet of wine. Then, he'd warned her that her palla had come unpinned on one side, and she’d turned away to fix it.

The room spun. A conclusion to her earlier questions about Silvanus came into sickening focus.

A hand touched her arm, and she pulled away jerkily. The contact brought her back to the present. She took a stumbling step away from Silvanus. “Excuse me, I have to”—her mind raced—“speak with my litter-bearers.”

“Your litter-bearers?”

She nodded, a half-plausible explanation jumping to her lips. “I forgot to tell them that they were supposed to collect my mother from visiting someone nearby, and bring her home before returning here to wait for me. Excuse me, I’ll just be a moment.”

Volusia hurried from the dining room and returned outside, where the four litter-bearers waited on the street. They straightened up when they saw her.

“Done already, lady?” Triton asked.

“I—” She broke off, her mind whirling as she tried to figure out what to do. Should she leave, gather herself, and then decide on a course of action?

No, she was on the verge of untangling this whole mess. She couldn’t leave without getting to the bottom of this.

Max’s face rose in her mind. He’d been in this with her since the beginning. She had to tell him what she’d realized. He could come and bear witness to Silvanus’s guilt, if indeed she was right.

“I need you to take a message for me, quickly,” she said to Triton. Max would come as soon as he received it, she had no doubt.

She gave the message to Triton, then returned inside. She paused a moment to compose herself in the empty atrium. She would have to tread very carefully, and she didn’t know how Silvanus would react. She might be putting herself in danger, but she’d survived worse. Silvanus couldn’t pose more of a threat than Glabrio and his soldiers.

Before she could convince herself to leave, she rejoined Silvanus in the dining room. He was already seated with a plate of food before him, and did not rise to greet her. Two slaves stood against the wall holding jugs of water and wine.

She smiled apologetically. “Forgive me for my absent-mindedness. I knew I was forgetting something.”

He shrugged and waved a laconic hand at the empty couch beside him. Volusia sat and served herself from the platter of vegetables and cold meat, though she had no appetite. The two slaves stepped forward to fill her goblet with a mixture of water and wine, and she murmured thanks.

“Tell me why you’re really here,” Silvanus said. “I don’t think you’re stupid enough to believe that we’re actually friends.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” She decided to play the conversation as she’d originally planned it, as if her horrible realization hadn’t taken place. “I came to speak to you about Avitus. About how he died.” She watched his face.

Silvanus let out a weary sigh and reached for a piece of cheese. “This again? Volusia, it’s time to move on. He got sick, he died. It happens.”

“I don’t believe that’s what happened to Avitus. Maybe if I never discovered his suspicions about Petronax, I could believe that. But I went to see one of the consuls, to discuss my concerns—”

Silvanus cast her a sidelong glance. “You spoke to a consul about this?”

She nodded. “He refused to take any action without proof that Avitus was murdered.”

“Proof you will never find, because it didn’t happen.” He spoke carelessly, then tossed back a gulp of wine.

His nonchalance infuriated her. He wasn’t even nervous. He showed no guilt when discussing the death of a man who had cared for him, maybe even loved him. He’d left her a widow and her son fatherless, and all for what—some money? A fancy house in a posh neighborhood?

Rage unfurled in her chest, and words rose unbidden to her tongue. She’d intended to wait for Max’s arrival before broaching this, but she couldn’t hold back anymore. “I know you did it, Silvanus.”

She hoped to shock him, to shatter his icy composure, but he met her gaze evenly. He snapped his fingers, and the two slaves immediately left the room, closing the door behind them.

Silvanus turned back to her, an eyebrow arching. “Do you?”

She swallowed hard. This was it, the moment she’d lay it all out before her. Justice for Avitus—and for her son—was within her grasp. “You murdered the man who loved you.”

“Loved!” He scoffed. “Avitus didn’t love me. He only valued me for what I could do for him. I was a good secretary and a better fuck. Or maybe it was the other way around.”

His crudeness made her lips tighten. “Why did you do it?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He made an expansive gesture at the room around them. “I was born in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a life of labor and hardship in front of me. I wasn’t brave or strong, and I was useless with a sword, so I couldn’t seek glory in the army. But I was determined, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do if it got me out of that village. I worked my way up until I got that position on your husband’s staff. I thought that was as high as I could climb. Being the secretary to the governor of a wealthy province is a position of influence. Especially after he took more of a… personal …interest in me, I thought I had it made.”

“I was right about you,” Volusia said through gritted teeth. “At the beginning I thought all you wanted with Avitus was his position.” She had allowed Silvanus’s facade of meekness and humility to fool her, to lull her into overlooking his ambition. How could she have been so stupid?

He ignored her. “After we got to Narbo, Avitus started noticing things he wasn’t meant to. Accounts not adding up, missing tax revenue, that sort of thing. We both realized Petronax was stealing from the province. I tried to warn Avitus away from pursuing it. I knew making an enemy of Petronax could jeopardize everything. Avitus would have profited from the scheme as well. But he was stubborn.”

“He was doing the right thing,” Volusia said. “He was a man of honor. Unlike yourself.”

Silvanus shrugged. “Well, one of us is in a grand house with ten slaves to wait on his every need, and the other one of us is nothing but ashes in an urn.”

Volusia flinched.

“He kept poking at it,” Silvanus continued. “And I realized I was chained to a sinking ship. I started to make plans to leave, but then one of Petronax’s men approached me. He offered money in exchange for poisoning Avitus. Of course I negotiated the price up as much as I could. I had nothing to lose—I knew that if I refused, I’d have disappeared within the week because of what I knew, and someone else would have done away with Avitus anyway. So yes, I did it. I had no choice, but now I have enough coin to buy a magistracy in the next election. From there, who knows?”

Volusia drew in a breath as she absorbed everything Silvanus had said. That must have been how Petronax came to know of her suspicions. The only person she’d told was Silvanus, and he must have relayed it to Petronax, who had ordered Glabrio to silence her.

One last question occurred to her. “W-Why are you telling me this?” He had, after all, just confessed to murder. Her breathing stuttered as the danger of her situation washed over her. Max wasn’t here yet. She had no one to protect her. Her litter-bearers were outside—but due to her lie, Silvanus thought she’d sent them away on another errand. She could scream, but no one would hear her.

He fixed her with a steady, cool stare. “Because you sealed your own fate the moment that accusation left your lips, Volusia. If you think I’m going to let a stubborn little widow ruin everything I’ve built for myself…” His hand closed around the handle of a dinner knife.

Volusia had started gathering her legs under her as soon as he’d begun speaking. Her muscles tensed, and she made to bolt for the door.

But Silvanus anticipated her movement. He lunged toward her, the knife outstretched, pointing straight at her throat.

She scrambled backward, still on the low dining couch. Her foot kicked out, making contact with Silvanus’s chest. The force thrust him back for a moment, long enough for her to sweep an arm over the dining table, sending plates, cutlery, and cups crashing over the couch between them. Glass and pottery shattered as it hit the floor, and metal platters clanged, the noise deafening. She hoped desperately that the cacophony would alert someone—but then again, she was in Silvanus’s house, and his servants wouldn’t dare interfere.

The cascade of dinnerware stymied Silvanus for only a moment, and Volusia couldn’t find her feet fast enough. Silvanus lunged at her once more. Volusia twisted desperately. The knife sank into the cushion of the couch next to her ear. Silvanus swore.

His body had landed half over hers, his weight stifling even though he was not a large man. Volusia jerked her knee up and caught him in the stomach. She grasped for the knife, yanking it out of the couch. Silvanus grabbed her wrist. Instead of letting him take the knife from her, she flung it wide. It clattered away, out of reach for both of them.

“You are determined to make things difficult for yourself, aren’t you?” he growled. His hands closed around her throat.

Panic seized her. She writhed and twisted, tearing at any part of him she could reach with her nails. But the pressure didn’t ease. She wheezed, frantically seeking any scrap of air.

Relief didn’t come. Black spots popped in her vision. She was going to die like this. Her son would be an orphan, and Max…Max would never know how much she loved him. His face was the last thing she saw as darkness swallowed her.