## CONTENTS

Title Page

Teaser

Chapter One - The Prophecy

Chapter Two - The Grove

Chapter Three - The Figurine

Chapter Four - The Betrothal

Chapter Five - The Lure

Chapter Six - The Dinner

Chapter Seven - The Departure

Chapter Eight - The Waiting

Chapter Nine - The News

Chapter Ten - Quintus's Prophecy

Chapter Eleven - To Dallos

Chapter Twelve - The Ally

Chapter Thirteen - The Letter

Chapter Fourteen - Slow Burn

Chapter Fifteen - Journey's End

The Inspiration for Domna

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Take a Tour of Osteria
DOMNA

PART ONE:

THE SUN GOD'S DAUGHTER

A SERIALIZED NOVEL OF OSTERIA

BY

TAMMIE PAINTER

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## CHAPTER ONE

### _The Prophecy_

I STEPPED INTO the darkened room. After the bright afternoon sun of a Bendrian summer day, I could see nothing, but the pungent scent of spruce incense bit at my nostrils. Today, like every Bendrian youth on the eve of his or her sixteenth birthday, I would have my fate told by the oracle. From the seer's predictions I would be given my path into adulthood. My future would be decided by an old man who served as the voice of the gods. Having my own mind and strong ambitions, I knew what I wanted. But would the gods let me have it?

"Enter," rasped the voice of the oracle.

A chair scraped against the stone floor. I still couldn't see properly, but I knew this room well enough to head toward the sound without faltering. Slipping my hands along the smooth, curved edge of a table, I took cautious steps until my toe brushed the leg of a chair. The wooden seat creaked as I slipped into it. My legs started trembling the moment I was settled. I told myself I was being ridiculous. My destiny was already written by my birth and by my training.

Still, the oppressive silence of the oracle's room and its bitter chill despite the heat of the bustling afternoon outside had put me on edge. A cool, papery hand clasped mine. I jumped in my seat and cursed my childish nerves. The dry hand gave a squeeze.

"I had doubts you would come."

"Shouldn't you have seen I would?" I teased and laid my free hand over his. My vision finally adjusted to the dim room and I smiled at the warm, crinkled face of my grandfather. Like all Osterian seers, he had been born with red hair. The strands had gone completely silver years ago, but the tufts of his unruly eyebrows retained their fiery tint.

"Such a cynical girl," he said with a sigh and released my hand.

I leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You should know I'm not the type who would break with tradition."

As a priestess my career would be centered on maintaining tradition. Growth was changing Osteria, with several of the poli demanding independence and the Solon of Osteria doing his best to keep the realm united under his rule. But, as long as the people had their rituals and festival days to keep them grounded, the troubles of politics were easier to withstand. In my future role as priestess, I would be the focus of that tradition in the polis of Bendria, so I needed to adhere to it.

My grandfather, usually so still and calming, shifted in his seat and picked at his fingernails.

"And if you don't like what I have to say? Will you still want to uphold the tradition?"

My stomach lurched.

My father, Bassio, served as High Priest of Apollo here in Dekos, capital of Bendria, and I had followed his every movement since I could walk. I trained alongside the acolytes, I memorized the incantations, I never flinched at the sacrifices, and I understood how bedsport honored the gods. Unlike most people in Bendria, I could speak, read, and write in all the dialects of Osteria, the ever-growing realm Bendria had recently joined. I was even fluent in the language of the Califf Lands, a separate realm far to the south.

I may have not yet reached sixteen, but I had my future planned. I knew what I wanted and I'd always believed it would be mine. I wanted the honor and status of being High Priestess of Apollo, and I wanted the love of Papinias, my childhood friend who I'd sworn myself to.

I had a course mapped out for my life. Shouldn't the gods appreciate and honor that as I had always honored them? Shouldn't I of all people get what I want? Still, how bad could my Seeing be? Oracles were known for giving unclear prophecies, forcing you to interpret the true meaning. The sooner I learned mine, the sooner I could mold it to my future plans.

"Go on, give me my Seeing. I'm not destined to work in the sewers, am I?"

The old man paused, sucked a deep inhale through his nostrils as if for courage, then declared, "You will marry a king."

I stared at him wondering if he'd been too long in the sun. This prediction was about as meaningful as the ones I cast with my sister, Jalaia, when we were children playing at being oracles. Having inherited our mother's dark hair without a hint of red, we would never be true seers, but a few years ago I had been lucky enough to befriend a sorceress who taught me some of her spells and trained me in the use of star charts that might glimpse the future. True seers scoffed at these "tricks" saying the only way to know the future is to hear it from the gods' lips, not from the movements of objects in the sky or the casting of rune sticks.

"Of course I'll marry well. I'm the daughter of the high priest and a member of the patrine class," I said, hoping to goad the seer into telling me something more, something I could twist to suit my plans.

Besides, he might not be wrong. Secretly, Papinias and I had betrothed ourselves to one another on my birthday last year and hadn't I at times called Papi the king of my heart? Still, I wanted to hear my grandfather's and the gods' blessing of my future with Papinias who, with his education and training in the medic's arts nearly complete, would have more power than any Bendrian king these days.

Unless I was passed off to a land not ruled by Portaceae – Osteria's center of power – such as the foothills of the Great Mountains where the Middish lived in their uncivilized tribes (which, even in his worst mood, my father would never do to me), a "king" in Osteria was nothing but a man with a pointless title.

This had been a sore point as Osteria spread its rule across the land and absorbed one region after another. There was no war to bring this unity about, just treaties signed between district governors and the Solon, the overall leader of the realm of Osteria who resided in Portaceae City. With poli now overseen by governors who reported to the Solon, sat as judges in local matters, and collected taxes, kings suddenly found themselves as little better than figureheads under the new agreements.

"Your sister didn't marry well," the oracle reminded me. "She's the eldest. She should have married far better than you could ever hope to, yet she was given to a nobody. A clerk for the undersecretary of the Solon is all she got."

"But I'm prettier," I said, taunting the old man with the vanity he always chastised me for.

"You are a most impertinent young woman. Zeus give strength to the man you wed."

"You're too easy to tease. Now, I think you owe me the Seeing my father didn't pay for."

On my way to my grandfather's I had indeed seen my father walking in his long, purposeful strides away from here. Until the past year, he had taken enormous pride in my intelligence and dedication, and had given every indication that I should join him as priestess at Apollo's temple. I never confronted him about this change in attitude and he had never said anything outright. I assumed his frigid distance toward me must be due to the strain of his new duties under Osterian rule or that it might be his way of forcing me to prove myself without his guiding hand. What else could it be?

I'd only been joking about the bribery, but as my grandfather averted his gaze and fidgeted with his sleeves, my smile dropped. As if on cue, a silver drachar with the image of Apollo stamped on it fell from a fold in his tunic. I wouldn't have thought anything of it. People always gave a donation of some sort when they visited an oracle, so Grandfather always had coins and trinkets clinking about in his pockets. But the speed with which his hunched frame bent down to snatch it up, and the scarlet flare of embarrassment in his cheeks told me my comment had hit the mark. I eyed him and arched one of my finely tweezed eyebrows.

"He's very forceful in his demands," my grandfather said apologetically. I'd never truly thought of him as old before, but the feeble comment and cowed look on his face aged him two decades in the space of two heartbeats. I reached out for his hand and patted it to show I wasn't angry. As head of my household, my father could dictate who I married. Father didn't exactly prefer Papi, but he must know Papinias made me happy. So why would he want a false prophecy regarding who I would marry?

"I know my father isn't fond of Papinias, but he has to like the idea of having a daughter who wants to follow in his steps. There's no way he would pawn me off on some distant king with no power just to spite Papi. You see, I've already decided my fate, Grandfather. You just need to read the stars and confirm it for me. Tell me Papi and I have the gods' blessing." I tried to sound confident, but the final words came out in a pleading tone.

"Alright girl, you want the real Seeing? It's yours. But you may not like it any better." He scattered a bundle of thin wooden tokens across the table. A square one had carved into it the date and time of my birth; twelve rectangular ones were filled with colorful images each depicting a strange morphing of the gods and the animals in the night sky; and several round ones of varying sizes represented the planets, sun, and moon.

"I thought you said star charts were for charlatans."

"In unskilled hands they are," he said, not looking up from the tokens on the table. "In the right hands with the right talent, they can be a useful tool, but no replacement for a true oracle, mind you. I've already done your Seeing. I'm only doing this for verification. Although I wonder if you wouldn't be better off accepting the false one. Marrying a king wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"I may crave power, but I also want the truth." I looked into his dark eyes that were set deep in the wrinkles of his brown face. "Is the Seeing that bad?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

"It is mixed. You are destined for power and status. No, don't smirk just yet," he said, scolding me with a waggle of his finger then pointing to one of the wooden pieces. "Your power will only be achieved and maintained through struggle. Sometimes the struggle will seem to never fade and may even threaten your life. It will also take sacrifice, choosing one dream or one desire over another when both are what you want. You must always trust your heart, Sofia, and never back down."

"And?" I wanted more details. This Seeing was so vague it could apply to anyone. Everyone had struggles, everyone had to make choices, everyone faced threats at some point in their lives. My grandfather rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I can't see everything, so don't expect it. But there is one point that is very clear." He took my hands. His cool and coarse fingers reminded me of being a little girl and walking hand-in-hand with him through Dekos's agora. Engulfed by his comforting grasp, I felt like a child again. A shiver ran over me at the gravity in his voice. "Do not raise your husband's child."

"Why wouldn't I raise my own child?" I blurted. Flashes of the beautiful babies Papi and I would make danced like a festival day procession through my head.

"Stupid girl," he said, dropping my hand. "Your husband's child doesn't necessarily have to be your own. I know you are kind and wouldn't turn any child out, but you're also ambitious. This child could put everything you strive toward at risk. It could put your very life at risk."

My ears had adjusted to the stillness of my grandfather's home, just as my eyes had adapted to the dimness. Even with the room set far back in the house, the din of the street had been seeping in: people shouting across lanes, the metal of vigiles' protective aprons jangling, and various animal noises from goats bleating to peacocks calling.

Now, with my head full of my grandfather's words, the exterior sounds faded to nothing. The deafness to the outer world drove his words in and flooded my mind with questions. Suddenly, a crash of something shattering and men's cursing shook me out of my reflection.

"Papinias is too devoted to me to stray like some common satyr," I said too brightly for the somber mood that, like the heady scent of spruce, lingered in the small room. "Speaking of, when should I ask Father about Papinias?" In truth, I'd already done my own reading which showed the best day for making requests would be in two days' time, but I desperately wanted to hear my grandfather say all would be well for us, that Father would give us his blessing, that our marriage would be a happy one, and that I wouldn't have to make any effort to keep Papi faithful to me. Sure, we'd have troubles like any couple, but overall we would be an enviable pair.

My grandfather stared at the prophetic tokens as if he could force some better news out of them. The resigned look on his face was like a kick to my heart.

"Bide your time with him," my grandfather said in a kind yet warning tone. My eyes burned, but I bit the inside of my cheek. I would not come out of the oracle's house crying like some silly child.

My grandfather stood and shuffled his way around behind my chair. Placing a kiss on the top of my head, he inhaled, breathing in the jasmine oil I'd worked into my hair. When she was alive, my mother always wore jasmine and I wondered if the scent reminded my grandfather of his daughter.

"Are you going to see Papinias now?"

"Yes, you clever old oracle." I couldn't keep my lips from smiling despite the strange reading.

He patted my shoulder and toyed with the strands of hair I'd left dangling from the upswept hair style that had grown popular since Bendria changed its status from a mere region to a polis of Osteria.

"Enjoy your time with him."

The way he said this, like a remorseful command, sent my grin fleeing like a startled dove.

"You're tickling me and giving me gooseflesh." I gently brushed my grandfather's hand away, then rose from my chair and kissed him goodbye on the cheek taking in the scent of jasmine oil that lingered on his skin.

## CHAPTER TWO

### _The Grove_

ALTHOUGH I NORMALLY would have spent a few hours helping him tidy his home and organize his appointments for the week, my grandfather's morose tone and curious prediction had me yearning to get out and into the sun and breezy summer air to shake off the gloom that clung to me. Trying not to make my impatience obvious, I rushed through my goodbyes and hurried out of the dark room and into the bustle of the street.

I squinted against the sun glinting off the marble temple situated across from my grandfather's house. Blinking away my blindness, some of the disquieting mood dispelled as my vision cleared and I strolled toward the shaded side of the structure. This wasn't the grand temple to Apollo I'd grown up exploring, but a smaller one to Mithras, the cult of the bull that was gaining popularity in Dekos.

As usual on a summer afternoon, several people lingered playing card games and sipping beer in the cool shade the temple's portico cast over the steps. I smiled at the sight of ordinary Bendrians enjoying their day until a group of Helians rounded the corner.

This sect had sprung up recently and centered on the worship of one deity: the titan Helios. The sternest believers insisted theirs was the true religion by using the logic that, as all the poli of Osteria were ruled by a single Solon, so the people of Osteria should be ruled by a single god. Although a few Helians preached a message of peace and unity, others were aggressively vocal in their censure of Osterians who honored the twelve gods of Olympus or any being that wasn't Helios, including the bull god whose temple they swarmed now.

"You'll be damned," one yelled as he shook a knobby finger at a man who I knew wasn't a Mithran, but had simply been enjoying the portico's shade. He glared at the Helian as he began strapping on his sandals.

"Helios is the only god," a woman screeched to no one in particular.

I wouldn't have minded the cult of Helios except for sects like this with their unending belittlement of other religions. Personally, I thought it chancy to rely on only one god. It struck me as akin to placing all your drachars on one chariot at the races. How could a single deity possibly watch over everything at once? What if Helios tended to a landslide in the Low Mountains to our west and forgot to oversee the grain planting of Demos in the east? It didn't seem logical that one god could ensure the proper working of the world.

Rather than put up with insults, the people who had been relaxing at the temple dispersed. The Helians cheered their departure and congratulated themselves on their victory over the "bull lovers." When the Mithran guards ushered them away, the noisy devotees to Helios complained and cried foul over their poor treatment. I continued on my way, shaking my head at their folly. Helians, with their inflexible attitude and harsh criticism often brought trouble down on themselves then liked to act as if they were martyrs. It would be like me insulting our cook after he spent hours making a superb meal then acting shocked when he spat in my soup the next day.

Still, when I rounded the corner, all thoughts of philosophy fell away. Papinias was there leaning against the shaded side of the Mithran temple and I couldn't help but take a moment to admire his lean frame accented by the belt of his knee-length tunic that showed off the long curve of his calves. Possibly sensing my stare, he turned before I came any closer. His face brightened with a broad smile.

"My priestess." He stood straight then bowed in mock ceremony.

"My servant." I tapped him on the head as if in blessing.

He glanced around and, seeing no one who might take offense, kissed me quickly on the lips. Then, to make it appear proper, he kissed me on either cheek in greeting.

We strolled away and neither of us had to ask the other where we were heading. At the edge of Dekos stood a sacred grove of olive trees. These were the pride of Bendria and one family a year was tasked by the Temple of Apollo to oversee their care with chores ranging from olive collection to covering the limbs in winter to protect them from frost.

When Bendria came under Osterian rule, the first gift from Portaceae was a series of newly built canals designed by the clever engineers of the Athenos polis. These canals supplied water for a few flower gardens and fountains, but this ancient grove of olive trees had matured long before we were Osterian and needed no help from Athenian engineering.

Bendrians viewed the grove as a symbol of our independence and strength, but in truth, few complained about being taken under the Osterian wing. Yes, Portaceae taxed us and conscripted our men for the Solon's service, but the order established in Bendria, the protection from invaders, and the luxuries like well-maintained roads and running water overshadowed the negatives. And Portaceae let each polis worship as it pleased. The Seatticans mainly honored Zeus, the Cedonians primarily sought protection from Artemis; and Bendria would always love Apollo, our preferences didn't matter as long as we revered the Solon above all.

"Papinias, will you ever take another woman when we're married?"

"I thought you told me the gods like it when men and women are together. As the husband of a priestess, I would have to honor the gods, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, but–" I was too distracted to notice his joking tone. How was I supposed to say, without seeming petty or sniping, that I would not accept my husband having other lovers? But I didn't have to frame my words. As our arms swung alongside one another, he lightly brushed his index finger along the palm of my hand.

"I'm teasing you, Sofia. You know I can't even make my eyes focus on other women because of you. What makes you question me?"

"Oh, just being a jealous wife."

"So long as you're my wife, you can be as jealous as you like. Did your Seeing not go well?"

I can't say why, but I didn't want to tell him about my true Seeing. I needed time to think about the words my grandfather spoke before I revealed them to or discussed them with anyone, even the person closest to my heart.

"No, it couldn't have been better. Apparently I'm going to marry the Solon Candus."

Papinias let out his hearty laugh that always brought a smile to my own face. Even as children, his laughter – high and lilting back then – could always make me grin no matter how desperately I wanted to sulk.

"Then I should call you my Solonia, not my priestess. So why Candus? Should I be jealous?"

"Don't bother. Father bribed Grandfather to give a reading that said I was to marry a king. Since kings are just puppets these days that must mean I have to marry the Solon."

"That's far better than being stuck with a mere medic." He gave my hand a light squeeze. "You're just lucky Candus's father died a few months ago. Antonius would have been far too old for you. Candus is what? Nineteen? Not a bad age match for you," he teased, having just turned nineteen himself that spring. I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm just saying it would be better than being wed to some old man. Antonius may have been a great leader, but he was older than Zeus. Do you remember when Candus and his father came through Bendria on tour?"

"How could I not? That's the day I fell in love with my future husband." I nudged Papinias who feigned sulking as we approached the grove. Of course, I meant Papi, not the overly boisterous Candus whose cackling laughter and gang of rowdy friends overshadowed Antonius's calm demeanor as they rode through Dekos that day.

This had been a few years before Bendria was part of the Osterian realm. Candus was so raucous I thought Dekos had been invaded. With his spirited horse barely under his control, his reaching down to grope women, and his thuggish comrades shoving people aside, I had no idea what was happening to my city. My ten-year-old brain was certain this had to be the Areans come to raid us. As Candus neared, my fear took hold so strongly one would have thought I was an uneducated slave. My fear took over and I dashed away from my father and into the main thoroughfare. I jerked to a stop right in front of Candus. His wild horse reared up. I could still picture the beast's hoof hovering only an arm's length from my skull.

Papi and his family had been watching the show close behind my father and me. Without a pause, Papinias charged out after me, pulling me out of the way of the hooves of Candus's stallion in the nick of time. Seeing how frightened I was, he took my hand and guided me away from the noise of the procession and crowd of people to the quiet of the olive grove where he stroked my back until I stopped crying.

"You know I really had been looking forward to seeing the glory of Portaceae that day," Papi said. "I didn't even get a drachar stamped with Candus's face."

"I'll be sure he gives you a sackful when I marry him."

"Too bad you're bound to me," Papi said, referring to the promise we had made to each other a year ago. Calling upon the gods as our witnesses, we had sworn ourselves to one another. A promise was as binding as a contract in Bendria, so in the gods' eyes – and in my heart – we were already married. "You know, I'd swear that day of the parade was the start of your father's disapproval of me. Patrine men don't tend to like it when equine boys become heroes in their daughters' eyes."

"Yes, I suppose that's why he has to marry me off to an upper patrine like Candus," I joked. "It's the only way he could get back at you for winning my favor."

We reached the grove and immediately headed to the largest tree where we had carved our initials on our first visit nearly six years ago – only later did we add a heart around the letters. Papi truly was a hero in my eyes and, as soon as my heart had stopped racing with fear, I had tumbled into a girlish love with him that had flourished ever since. I traced my fingers along the smooth letters. Papinias stepped up behind me. His breath danced along my neck.

"We've made good use of this place since that first day."

I turned to face him. His lips on mine pulled me away from the outside world until it was only us in our little paradise as we moved aside our clothes and he pressed me up against our initials. With agility we'd honed over the past year of our finding this new way to love one other, we took our joy in the privacy the trees granted us.

"Prediction or not, I'm going to tell my father I want to marry you." My cheeks still burned with the rush of passion as we straightened our clothes.

"When?" He asked excitedly, but he chewed nervously at his lip just as he did before he entered the room where he took each of the many exams required to transition between his studies and his apprenticeship in the healing arts.

"I've done my own star chart and the most auspicious time is in two days."

Before I could finish pinning my hair back in place, Papinias grabbed me by the waist. Lifting my small frame off the ground, he twirled and kissed me until I couldn't breathe. Rather than join fully in his enthusiasm, my mind kept recalling my grandfather's fatalistic tone when he told me to enjoy my time with Papinias today. What had he not been telling me?

When Papi set me down, I staggered a bit from the spinning and placed a hand to the tree trunk to steady myself.

"You'll walk with me?" I asked. Despite my distracted mood I was in no rush to be apart from Papi.

He kissed me again and took my hand.

"As you wish my priestess– I mean, my Solonia. Can you come here tomorrow?"

I nodded and thought to myself that even when we were married with luxurious rooms of our own, we would still come to this grove for our bedsport.

It's hard to think I was ever so naïve.

## CHAPTER THREE

### _The Figurine_

AFTER HAVING MADE a beeline to the grove, Papinias and I strolled back to the heart of town through the dusty and meandering side lanes of Dekos. This was our ritual after visiting the grove and we'd developed a game of alternating who chose the return route.

This day it was my choice and, after only a couple turns, Papi already knew where we were headed. I'd discovered a route on which each street even the most ramshackle hovel had a pot, an old amphorae, or even a discarded wooden bowl spilling over with flowers. I called it my Flower Walk, but Papinias named it my Illamos Valley Stroll because of the lush gardens that wealthy polis is rumored to have.

"Do you know why there aren't any purple flowers?" he asked, pointing up at a boot filled with pink blossoms.

"Because my people know I like the red ones best," I replied with mocking haughtiness.

"No, it's because the Solon won't allow anyone to wear purple besides himself."

I rolled my eyes at the old joke that referred to the color of cloak the Solon, and only the Solon, was allowed to wear. Had anyone known what our young ruler would become it might not have seemed such a ridiculous jest.

"Let's go to the agora," I said. "I want oranges for my birthday and Father can't stand the smell of them. I have to sneak the things into the house as if they were rattlesnakes."

"I thought he'd let you have anything."

I knew Papi's grave comment didn't refer to the oranges and I wanted to kick myself for what I'd said. While I was hopeful Father would let me marry Papinias, I couldn't be fully confident in his approval of my wishes. Father had been so distant with me these past twelve months that I could no longer read him as I once did. There were no guarantees with him anymore.

Despite this and despite the odd Seeing he had commissioned, I couldn't think of any barrier to my father letting me marry Papi. First, I was a day shy of sixteen, the same age my sister and most other Bendrian girls wed. Second, my father had never hinted at arranging a marriage for me. There weren't men lingering around the temple or house eyeing me like a piece of livestock to haggle over, nor pathetically attempting to win my heart. And my father had never hinted I take special notice of an old friend's son like I'd heard other girls' parents did.

Yes, we had male guests. Yes, I'm attractive and draw men's eyes, but our visitors consisted of my father's acquaintances, magistrates he would assist, or priests from other temples he might consult with. Men from good families to be sure and I'm certain some were single, but beyond an appraising glance none made any special effort to single me out or to flirt with me, and my father made no obvious signs of having brought them to the house to play matchmaker. Other than being in the high equine class, one small step below my middle patrine status on the ridiculous Osterian class system, my father could offer up no objection to my marrying Papinias.

"Oranges are not husbands," I replied to Papi's concerned tone as we reached the edge of the agora.

In this central marketplace, stalls leaned into each other in such a ramshackle way that I swore, if one pole were removed, a whole line of vendors would become buried under the striped awnings. But I could never linger on the stalls' shanty-like appearance when my senses were overwhelmed by the vendors and their wares. Barrels of spices from blood-red chili powder to earthy coriander to golden ginger created a mosaic of warmth. Lemons and oranges, grown in glass houses year round, stood in decadently scented pyramids that I swore had to be held together by pins, otherwise, how did they not collapse with all the people jostling by? The fish vendors called out daily specials and water slapped as the still-living creatures battled one another in metal tanks. The scent of everything, spices, produce, people, and seafood mingled together in a way that was nauseating and tempting at once.

I haggled for five oranges and we squeezed our way over to the quieter side of the market where cloth, housewares, and cosmetics were sold. At one stall stood a man with dark skin, not the warm tan of most Bendrians, but a color more like rich, brown wood. As was the custom with Osterians, his clothing indicated his position. On his feet were the hob-nailed sandals of a vigile, but he also wore the cream-colored tunic of the equine class with a double red stripe along the border to announce his position of magistrate – a middleman of sorts between the poli's governors and the Solon regarding matters of taxes, crop reports, grievances, and many other aspects of the business of governing the realm.

At one time, this combination may have been an odd sight as magisterial positions were once held only by those in the patrine class, but the equines had been gaining position in Portacean politics for years. Under Antonius, a solon known for his equal treatment of all people, equines had come to occupy many high offices previously reserved for patrines. I couldn't be certain of this man's exact rank in the magistrate system – he could be anything from a collector of taxes to a collector of news – but the beak-nosed man following him like a clerk indicated he was no mere errand boy.

I noted all this not because it's my habit to stare at people, but because what this magistrate was doing was too unbelievable not to draw and hold my attention. The man had been examining a figurine carved from what appeared to be soapstone. He then simply handed a couple drachars over to the vendor. No haggling, no pretending the quality wasn't up to snuff, nothing. The vendor glared at him with a face pulled tight in disgust. This magistrate must be an idiot. He turned from the stall and backed into me nearly causing me to drop my oranges.

"You should bargain with the vendors," I snapped when he didn't bother to apologize. He stared down at me as if deciding whether to respond. The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile and his mahogany eyes glinted with amusement.

"I had the money and the price was fair."

"That's not the point. Have you never been to Bendria before? The vendors here want you to haggle. They enjoy it as part of their business. It's considered rude not to."

He made a scoffing exhale through his nostrils. "That's too much hassle. Why bother if I don't care about the price?"

Believe me, I would never dare say what I said next if I hadn't been born into a class above this man's and raised with the assurance of my own rightness. Had anyone of a lower class or a woman of his own class spoken to him as I did, charges would be filed. And if he held a high enough position with the Solon, talk such as mine would be considered a crime against Portaceae itself and I could be charged with treason. I should have minded my business. He was a large man and I've always been small. Had I kept my mouth shut, he might never have taken notice of me.

"What do you mean, 'Why bother?' Because it's to your advantage. It shows a striking lack of self worth that you don't want to do what's in your own best interest. What kind of fool doesn't take the time to steer matters to his favor?"

Papinias stepped forward. He placed his hand on my upper arm and gently pulled me back from the dark man and his hawk-nosed companion.

"Excuse her, Magistrate, she's just learned she's destined to marry a solon, so she's a bit overwhelmed with her own power at the moment. Silly oracles filling girls' heads with nonsense."

The magistrate's expression, which had grown harsh at my sharp words, changed as quickly as if a gust of wind had blown his anger away. What replaced it however, forced me to glance away. It struck me too much as the same look Papinias got on his face when he discovered a new book to add to his ever-growing collection.

"I'm quite reliant on predictions myself. I just had one this morning," he whispered as if speaking the words just to me. He then shook his head, squared his shoulders and barked, "Who are you girl?"

"Sofia Domna. Daughter of Bassio, the High Priest of Apollo. Middle patrine class," I added with clear emphasis.

"And does your father know how you speak to one of Portaceae's magistrates?" He didn't pause long enough for me to even shake my head. "Boy, get this girl back home before she causes any more trouble. And you, girl, the price for insulting me are those oranges."

I balked. I hadn't brought enough drachars to buy anything else. I knew as the daughter of the high priest I could insist the vendor give me five more, but that was one aspect of my status I refused to take advantage of. Before I could protest giving up my birthday gift to myself, Papi pulled the oranges from my grasp and handed them over. The magistrate took them with a grin and nodded to me in gratitude. As he strode away, his sandals clacked on the agora's paving stones.

I sulked as if I would never have oranges again while Papi and I threaded our way out of the agora.

"Perhaps you should control your tongue until you become Solonia," Papi jested.

"Stupid old windbag. He's no magistrate. He's nothing more than a centaur's fart."

"And a fool, don't forget he's a fool."

"And rude," I added.

We walked in silence until we reached the back side of the Temple of Apollo. My home overlooked the front portico of the structure, but we would part ways here as we always did.

"You should have lied to him about who you are," Papi said after a lingering farewell kiss. "What if he complains to your father just at the time you need him in a good mood?"

Thinking of the look in the magistrate's eyes when Papinias told him of my Seeing, I too wished I'd kept my mouth shut. But I couldn't unwind time, so I pushed aside my worry with false bravado.

"A man who doesn't trouble himself to bargain in the agora, won't bother to come poking around here."

## CHAPTER FOUR

### _The Betrothal_

TWO DAYS LATER, the house bustled with activity in preparation for a dinner my father had planned. Although it was a special day for me, being the day I would ask Father to allow me to officially marry Papi, this dinner wasn't unusual. As one of the most influential men in Bendria, Father hosted such events at least once a month. Usually the household faced the preparations with practiced calm, but this time the air in the house buzzed with a different flavor of activity, not a bustling excitement, but a nervous skittering as if something bad would happen if anyone dared hold still.

Slaves dusted the statues of Apollo and Aphrodite decorating our foyer with such vigor that one toppled off its plinth and was only just saved by the quick reflexes of our head slave, Kolos. They scrubbed the floors and burnished every metal surface to the point that I worried they'd wear the tiles and plates down to nothing. The kitchen braziers burned hot to cook an array of meats and grains and vegetables that were of higher quality than we normally served – not that we ever stinted, but these were the prime cuts that would normally be reserved for Apollo's festival day, a wedding feast, or the induction of a new governor.

Although beer was our normal drink at table, slaves were hauling up jug after jug of newly imported Illamosian wine from the cellar where we also aged our cheeses. The chores left me no time to see Papinias, and the awkward atmosphere didn't fill me with anticipation, but with apprehension. Something big was to be announced this evening and my father, distant as usual, had given me no hint what it might be regardless of how little he knew I liked surprises.

Still, I should have expected some sort of news. The stars said this day was an auspicious one for change, requests, and announcements. And didn't I have an announcement of my own to share? My own request to make? Once I had finished my last task of putting decorative edible flowers on dozens of lavender and honey cakes, I hurried upstairs so my personal slave, Saltia, could brush my hair and decorate it with flowers made of jewels. When she was done, I would corner my father and declare my intention to marry Papinias, then plead for his approval.

Normally, having my hair done relaxed me, but this entire day refused to be normal. Saltia's frazzled behavior was contagious and it didn't help that she kept ducking her eyes away whenever I caught her furtively glancing at me. She fidgeted and fussed and dropped the brush so often I wondered if her fingers had gone numb from all the other work she'd been made to do. Finally I reached out, meaning to steady her shaking hand, but she flinched, sending a container of pins tumbling to the floor. She hurriedly dropped into a squat to pick them up. When I turned from the mirror to help her, her shoulders were shaking.

Dropped pins were nothing to cry over. I touched her arm to let her know she'd done nothing wrong, but her jaw tensed and her cheeks flushed as she bit her lip. Saltia was only a few years older than me and had been part of the household since I could walk. I hated the idea of owning someone, of forcing them to be with me, and had always treated Saltia as, if not my equal, at least my dearest friend. I was closer to her than I'd ever been to my sister and could read her body language as easily as reading a child's primer.

"Saltia, are you crying?"

"No, Domna. I just have a cramp in my foot."

I cringed at her using my formal title. We had always called each other by our first names even in public, a habit that drew scornful glances from some Bendrians.

"One that makes your voice catch? Tell me what's wrong."

"I just–" she paused, fiddling with the tines of the comb and making them plink as she did so. "I worry you'll be disappointed if Bassio doesn't let you marry Papinias."

Saltia had been acquired from the unclaimed lands far north of the polis of Vancuse. These were tough people, a people who thought nothing of selling off their own, a people who were direct in their speech and didn't hide the intention of their words. Saltia had inherited this trait and had always been forward speaking with me. The hesitating tone in her voice rattled me. She wasn't quite lying, but her words weren't entirely the truth. I was determined to pull the full story out of her without outright demanding it.

"Why would he deny me my happiness? Father's only objection could be that Papinias isn't of our class, but his family is as well-connected as ours and his status will only increase when he completes his apprenticeship. Have you heard some other objection?"

Before Saltia could reply, Kolos knocked on my door and asked me to join my father in the courtyard as soon as possible. A lightning bolt shot through my stomach. This was my chance. As soon as I obtained my father's blessing, I would be officially betrothed to Papi. But my gut churned when, as Kolos bowed his departure, a careful glance passed between his dark eyes and Saltia's blue ones.

Her hands clumsy with worry, Saltia fumbled through the final twists and decorations to my hair. I wanted to pry more information out of her at least regarding this dinner tonight and why it had everyone in such a lather, but my worry drifted to my next moments in the courtyard, to what I needed to say, how I needed to say it, how I would handle any objections or arguments from my father, and how I would react when my father finally agreed – I'd been toying with joyful yet humble gratitude.

"I suppose I'll have to go down in full ignorance since certain disloyal slaves won't tell me anything," I said with mocking anger as I stood from the dressing table. "If I find out this is anything more serious than slaves' gossip, I'm selling you off to the Areans when you're mine."

I would inherit Saltia when I married or when I turned eighteen, whichever came sooner. It was a disgusting notion to imagine her being classed in the same group of objects as my mother's jewels and the household cutlery. As soon as I understood what slavery was as a child, I had sworn to her that I would free her as soon as I legally could. Still, whenever she vexed me, it was our inner joke to threaten to send her to the Areans – the worst people anyone, slave or otherwise, could be forced to serve. This time though she didn't mock back that I'd be lost without her. She only nodded her head as if accepting her possible fate. I told myself to speak more gently to her when I returned.

I straightened the sheer, floor-length, blue silk dress I wore over my lightweight linen tunic – as a patrine, I could wear any color I wished except purple – then centered the silver chain at my waist. Saltia had woven a matching silver chain through my hair along with the flower-shaped jewels and used a soft, dark pencil to draw a fine line along my upper lashes to accent my eyes. Surrounding me was a halo of jasmine from the oil brushed into my hair. Saltia gave a watery smile and I hugged her before leaving the room.

With my stomach fluttering in anticipation, I raced down the stairs from my rooms. I reminded myself that today I was taking on adult matters and needed to behave as such. I paused, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. From the central courtyard of our home came the tranquil bubbling of the fountain that wild birds visited as they flew in through the open roof to flick cool water over themselves during the hottest times of summer. I opened my eyes and strode toward the sound.

As I passed, slaves bowed to me. By custom they shouldn't look at me, but I'd have to have been blind not to notice their stolen glances, some wary, some pitying. What was with everyone today? Although I made every effort to treat them kindly and not like property, I knew the only way I was going to keep control of my nerves as I ran this gauntlet was to ignore them like any proper slave owner, pretend they didn't exist, imagine they were simply furniture. With every step I had to resist my usual impulse to smile at them or ask how they were getting on. I have no idea how slave owners managed such cold detachment every single day.

When I entered the plant-filled courtyard, my father stood in front of a small ebony table with his back to me. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of roses and rich earth, and stepped toward him, my sandals snapping against the tiled floor. He turned at the sound. I kissed his grizzled cheek in greeting. His face pinched with disgust and he flicked his head away from me as if I'd been wallowing in satyr droppings.

"Father, before any guests arrive, I wanted to–" My words cut off when my gaze landed on the table. Bright white against the dark wood of the table stood a small, familiar figurine. My first impulse was to flick it away, like a fly that had landed on a plate of sweets. The blow would have knocked it into a new, oversized pot placed beside the table. In it grew a tree with bright glossy leaves and immature oranges just beginning to turn from green to golden.

Before I could question my father, before I could even find my voice, the magistrate from the market stepped out from behind a column. Oddly enough, after spending the day cleaning and witnessing how hard everyone worked to perfect the house, my first thought was not to wonder why he was here or how my father knew this man, but that he better not be wearing the hob-nailed sandals and causing scratches in our freshly polished floors. The dark man smiled at me as if we were old friends.

"Just so you know, I haggled for the orange tree."

I found no humor in his words. Some part of me shouted that I should run, but the bolder part of me fought the urge to order him from my home and to insist that he didn't belong here. My hand twitched, wanting to slap him for so rudely interfering on my time with my father. But a lifetime of training in how to behave diplomatically allowed me to collect my poise. I gave a cold, polite smile then promptly ignored him, angling myself to speak to my father and exclude the magistrate.

"Father, how do you know this man?"

"He came to me yesterday. He's a magistrate for Portaceae."

"Yes, I can see that, but what business does he have here?"

My father inhaled deeply through his nostrils, the way he did when trying to control his impatience with an underling. His cheeks had already bloomed with spots of red. This was no mood to have him in to discuss marrying Papi and I resented the magistrate for causing this upset to my plans, but being on the aggressive would not win me any favor with Father. I eased the tension from my shoulders and spoke lightly. "I'm sorry, it's been a strange day and made stranger by seeing an unknown man pop out from behind one of our columns. I only meant, who is this?"

The hint of warm amusement on my father's lips did nothing to thaw the cold glare he had fixed on me.

"This is Sirius Verus. Your future husband."

## CHAPTER FIVE

### _The Lure_

BILE AND LAUGHTER perched at the top of my throat in the same instant. I swallowed them both back.

My mind threatened to collapse inside itself with the same overwhelming terror as being trapped in a nightmare. That's it, I thought with giddy delirium, I just needed to wake up. Perhaps I'd fallen asleep waiting for Saltia to do my hair. Or maybe this was a joke? Did my father grab the wrong calendar and think today was the winter Festival of Hermes when all things turn into tricks and jests?

Inside, I screamed that this man before me wasn't Papinias. I couldn't marry him. I couldn't marry anyone but Papinias. I cursed myself. This conversation wouldn't be happening if I was already officially betrothed to Papi. If only I'd spoken with my father sooner instead of waiting the two days I'd forecast in my star chart. Grandfather was right: Unless you're a true seer, no good can come from trying to guess the gods' minds.

A weaker part of me I didn't like to admit I possessed said to respect the head of my household and accept this declaration without argument. My stronger self, my true self, pushed aside this willowing aspect of my nature, rattled me back to my senses, and forced me to maintain my dignity and my desires. Later I could berate my father, plead with him, but not in front of this intruder. For now I would show my father I too could play his game of icy detachment.

"And when are we to be wed?" I asked as coolly as if questioning the cook how much longer the chicken needed to roast.

"That's a matter of doubt," my father said. "We'll discuss it later."

"She can hear the truth," the magistrate said, stepping toward me. "What your father means is I'm already married."

My brow furrowed and I flicked my eyes between these two men. Were they both mad? Divorce was commonplace enough, but why tie me to a man still married? That sort of agreement was only made by parents looking to be rid of wayward daughters or to get a betrothal payment to see a family through financial difficulties. It was not made by high-status families of good standing. The ice I'd only just hardened in my veins melted, boiled, and steamed from me.

"So I'm to sit on the shelf like a box of toys waiting to be taken down when you're ready to play?"

"Sofia!" my father snapped, but Sirius put a hand on his arm to quiet him.

"My wife is ill," he said to me. "Has been for some time and I can't strain her with a request for divorce. She's unlikely to make it through the year. When she dies, you will join me, and we can marry."

He moved to take my hand but I yanked it away and stepped back, scolding him with my eyes.

"We aren't married yet, Magistrate." I turned to my father. "Is there a contract?"

My father's eyes narrowed at my shrewd question. From my own studies and from talking to lawyers who visited the temple, I'd learned how Bendrian law compared to Osterian law. By both systems, since Sirius and I had spoken no promises to one another, I knew that if no contract had been drawn up I was still free.

And if I was indeed free I wouldn't hesitate to humble myself. I would go down on my knees and beg my father to give me to Papinias, not to this old man. In my mind, I pleaded to Athena, goddess of law and justice, to let there be no contract, then to Aphrodite to let me be with the man I loved. I had a man who would marry me. Not in a year. Not when it was convenient for him. Now.

"Why do you think we're celebrating tonight? The contract was finalized this morning. Now, I'm sure you two will have plenty of time to talk at the feast this evening. Sirius, I'll see you in the seventh hour. We'll make the announcement at dinner."

"I look forward to it. Thank you, Bassio," he said with a bow, then turned to me, stepping in close. I backed away, detesting his assumed intimacy. "And my Sofia, I ask that you will do me the honor of sitting next to me."

_I am not your Sofia. I am Papi's Sofia. _

"I believe, given your martial status, that my proper place is still to my father's left, not yours. But thank you, for considering me," I said with no sincerity.

As Sirius took his leave, the two men exchanged glances: Sirius's gloating, my father's apologetic. The moment the magistrate was out of sight, I was about to demand from my father what type of joke this was, but before the words could even pass my lips, he whirled around and grabbed me by my upper arm so hard I feared the bone might snap.

"You will never embarrass me like that again. Despite your spoiling, despite the status you assume to possess, I am still the head of this household, and you, by law, must respect that."

Hot tears welled in my eyes. My father had only spoken harshly to me once before when I was about eight years old. I had taken a bracelet from the temple altar, nothing of value, just a trinket someone had offered to Apollo, but glittery enough to catch my childish eye. My father berated me to no end on piety and respect. I cried then, not so much from shame, but from the unfamiliar distress of having him angry with me.

Now, although I stood before my father as a woman betrothed, I was hurtled back to being that same child frightened of her parent's disapproval. This time though, I refused to cry. I needed to be taken seriously. I blinked hard, forcing the tears aside.

"But why him? Why now?" I asked as steadily as I could.

"I hadn't any real plans for you. It didn't have to be him. Anyone who made the offer to take you away would have done, but, as I said, he showed up on your birthday as if the gods had answered my prayers. He's heard of your Seeing. He believes if he marries you, he'll become solon."

I wanted to laugh. That lazy oaf as solon? How could that old man become heir to Candus who would certainly live another forty years or more? Candus had time to bear a houseful of sons or to find a good advisor or commander to appoint as heir. Was my father going feeble not to see the logic in that?

"Why in all of Osteria would he believe something so impossible?"

"As it happens, Sirius had his own Seeing that very morning from your grandfather."

"A true one or a bribed one?" I asked waspishly.

"A true one as far as I know. It predicted that Sirius would soon find the woman who would make him great. Meshed with your Seeing, you can understand how a man might be hopeful."

"But you bribed Grandfather to give me that prediction."

"Exactly. I knew it would be the perfect bait. Some man would hear of the potential power you could give him and he wouldn't hesitate to take the lure. The prophecy's not entirely a lie, so don't act so righteous. Had you been born an hour earlier, the Seeing wouldn't be incorrect. You arrived in the darkest hours of the night. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that the midwife could have been mistaken about the time of your birth."

My head reeled and my legs trembled. Had I been a weaker girl, I might have collapsed. My own father was plotting to be rid of me. He was pawning me off to whichever fish snapped first at the line he'd dropped. Then, like a naughty boy jamming a stick into a cartwheel, the spinning, whirling thoughts jerked to a stop and settled on a single one. Not only had my future with Papi been ripped out of my hands, but Sirius had said I would join him.

"Am I to leave Dekos?" I asked in a voice barely above a whisper, my emotions getting the better of me.

"Unfortunately, not until he's ready to marry you. Then you'll go wherever he's stationed."

"But I can't leave here. I'm destined to be priestess," I muttered. "You've trained me yourself."

"You followed me in my work. Was I to ignore you? I never made any promises about your future. You simply made assumptions. Wrong ones."

These words stung like the sharp smell released when the kitchen slaves lifted the lid from the barrel of fish sauce my father adored. While loved by most Osterians, the scent and sight of this fermented condiment always sent a physical revulsion shuddering through me. Just the memory of the rotten scent jolted me back to standing up for myself.

"But this man, what future will I have? He's unambitious, he doesn't respect custom, and he's seeking out a new wife before his old one is even on the funeral pyre. What kind of man have you bound me to?"

My father spun on me. His height sent a looming shadow over me and I stepped back to be out of it. He had never hit me, but he'd also never borne such fury in his eyes.

"Do you think I'm going to let you marry that little medic?"

"Is that what this is about? Your dislike of Papinias? He's got more of a future than that magistrate you've captured on your hook."

"Do you know what you are, Sofia? Do you know what your mother was?" This sudden change of topic confused me. What had my mother to do with this? She died after a short but aggressive illness not long before I met Papi. In my mind she was perfection itself. A kind woman with large eyes who everyone loved. So why was my father speaking of her with such malice?

"Your mother was whore to one of the gods. Apollo adored her, he took her and made you with her. Everyone knew, everyone knew my wife found more pleasure with him than me. She embarrassed me, but I was supposed to not blame you. I raised you as my own. I tried to love you. I indulged you, thinking that was how I should treat the child of a god, but it was never the unconditional love of a parent. I thought if I raised you as mine you'd be better than her. But you're not. You have embarrassed me, Sofia, and I will not abide it."

"I've done nothing but respect you." I scrambled through my memory thinking of what I might have possibly done to receive such corrosive venom from him.

"For a year now you've flaunted your lust with that equine of yours. That makes you worse than your mother. At least she debased herself with a god. You have shamed me. Who would honor a man whose own wife and daughter show no respect to him? You lower my status by letting him grope you in that olive grove. Do think your behavior is a secret? All of Dekos knows about you two."

"The acolytes of the temple do the same thing to bring honor to the gods," I replied feebly.

Spittle formed at the edge of my father's lips as if his own fury were bubbling from within. He'd been holding this anger in for a year. He despised me. He was willing to send me away with an unsuitable old man because of my mother's indiscretion. But Papi and I were different. In our own eyes and the gods', we were married and only acting as a husband and wife should. I was thrown so far off center by his misplaced hatred, that the new knowledge of my divine parentage barely registered with me.

"Those acolytes are sacred to Apollo. I have made them sacred to the god that stole my wife from me. You are just an insolent daughter. Yes, I bribed and commanded your grandfather to give that Seeing. I had planned to spread the word around of your destiny in the hopes that someone would take you away like a good luck token. But it appears your little medic spread the word for me. And to just the right person. Someone gullible, superstitious, and looking for an easy road to success."

"You can't possibly think this Sirius will be anything. You've done nothing but cast me into obscurity."

"If he's foolish enough to believe an oracle, who am I to argue? Besides, obscurity is the same place you'd be if you married that medic."

"Not if I were priestess." I wanted to add that even if I wasn't priestess, if I could stay in Dekos I would at least be with my love, but tender sentiment would never sway my father. I dropped to my knees, the position of pleading. Dignity be damned. I was not ready to leave Bendria. I was not ready to give up my love, nor my status. "I am a loyal daughter. I have only ever wanted to work in the temple with you. To have the people's respect. To honor the gods in the post I've been working toward my entire life."

I saw a slight waver in my father's harsh expression, but it hardened again at the mention of the gods.

"To honor your father, you mean?"

"You raised me. _You_ are my father. Apollo was my mother's lover, nothing more."

"Nothing more? Do you not see your talent in anything you try? Do you not see how people flock to you? The sun he symbolizes shines in you like a beacon. You are his daughter, not mine." I reached for his hand, but he jerked it away as if I were a rabid dog baring my fangs. "There is no room for further discussion. Get off that floor." He snatched at my arm again and yanked me to my feet. "You are of the age to marry. You need to learn that if you want greatness you have to earn it. I'm not going to hand it to you. Even if Apollo demanded I make you priestess, I would not work alongside you. Your disrespect of me is at an end. Tonight your betrothal will be announced and you will enter into it not on the wish of your father, but on the command of the head of your household."

He stared at me a moment as if checking to see I understood. I did. A father's wish was only that, a request. But in Bendria, a command from the head of one's household was an order just as that of a commander to a vigile. If I disobeyed it, he would have the right to kill me.

Bassio – I could no longer think of him as my father – turned his back to me and stormed out of the courtyard on his long legs. A breeze circled in from the roof opening. I shivered as a cloud passed over and darkened the courtyard. From within the house I could still hear the sounds of the dinner preparations, but my mind was in such a distant realm they sounded as far away as Portaceae itself.

The shock of the past moments was so great that I could do nothing more than stand as motionless as one of the foyer statues. If I stepped from the spot my feet had rooted in, everything else would go forward too. The words Bassio said would be true, my hopes of a life with Papinias would be over, I would be tied to a man I didn't know and didn't want to know. If I only stayed still nothing could change.

## CHAPTER SIX

### _The Dinner_

EVENTUALLY, LONG AFTER my feet had gone numb from remaining as stationary as possible, Saltia appeared at my side and guided me back to my rooms. As the late afternoon turned to evening, my mind rambled. I wouldn't call it thinking, it was more like catching pieces of a conversation in the market when you're not actively listening, but words still enter your ears. Likewise, I wasn't actively trying to form a thought, I was too much a wreck for anything so organized as that, but snippets of ideas floated into, around, and out of my head. The cursed figurine. My father's anger. My vanished hopes of being priestess. My divine parentage. My betrothal to someone I didn't even know. My love for Papinias. My departure from Bendria–

These final two fragments joined together, melting into one another, and forming anew with enough strength to burst through the storm cloud that had settled on me. Papinias and I could leave Bendria. I had never considered this before because of my determination and ambition to serve Apollo. I'd never thought of leaving my home, except perhaps to visit other temples in my role as priestess. But with Bassio crushing my hopes for this career like a beetle under his sandal, what reason had I to stay?

With his training nearly complete, Papinias could easily find work as a traveling medic or we could settle down and set up a little clinic of our own somewhere. It wouldn't matter because we'd be together. Let my father hunt me down in Portaceae or the Califf Lands. As head of my household, Bassio had every right to kill me if I disobeyed him, but he would have to catch me first. I could escape and start a new life. Sirius would just have to find another girl with a Seeing that suited his needs.

Saltia, returning from fetching a load of clean laundry, halted in the doorway and dropped her pile of folded linens. I only then realized my thoughts had left me grinning like a love-sotted fool.

"You're feeling better?" she asked cautiously.

"Quite." I went over and, after helping her with the linens, took her hands in mine. "You know I was only teasing earlier about Aryana. If you were my slave, if I inherited you, I would free you in an instant. No one should have to be bound where she doesn't want to be."

"Oh, Sofia, I would still serve you," she said, pulling me into her arms for an embrace – a gesture a slave in most other households would be whipped for.

Relief washed over me. I had always hoped she would stay with me, free or not. As a sign of loyalty and gratitude, freed slaves often remained with their former masters after being manumitted. I would also imagine, if you served a person decent enough to free you, it would be safer to stick with his familiar habits than to learn those of another who may not treat you so fairly or kindly. Besides, in the rigid class system of Osteria, Saltia would still be of the lowest servine class and, unless she married above this, she would have a challenging time moving into any career that didn't involve drudgery.

As I waited for guests to arrive, I studied a map and plotted. Money would be no problem. I had a substantial amount in my strongbox and, thanks to my mother's will being drawn up under Bendrian law, I had inherited all her jewelry upon her death rather than upon turning eighteen as most Osterian wills mandated.

I traced my finger along the land route to Portaceae, capital and seat of government of Osteria. Papinias and I could stay in this bustling city or use it as a way to get to the sea route to the Califf Lands. Although Portaceae was north of Bendria and geographically farther away from the Califf Lands, bandits plagued the roads south of Bendria's borders. Crossing the Graveyard, the spot where the Col River met the Western Sea, was dangerous, but it was still safer than the roads south of my polis. Pretending it was Papi's and my boat cutting through the water to our new home, I pushed a small stone along the map's expanse of blue that represented the Western Sea.

I tried to decide which city would be better. The bayside city of Francisca was the Califf Land's center of learning where Papinias and I could lose ourselves in books. I was strong enough in math and languages to tutor in these subjects. I had learned the art of star charts and taught myself herbal lore, but one had to be born a sorceress or apprenticed under one to set oneself up as a professional in the magical arts. Still, I knew enough to create a few simple potions, give unofficial readings, and even teach a few tricks to others. Regardless of what I taught, students would respect me and I would rule over my classrooms just as I would have ruled over Apollo's temple. If we decided on Portaceae, Papinias could tend to and befriend politicians and lawmakers. Our home might be where events were decided and the future of Osteria debated. Pushing my stone around on the map, I saw a whole life of possibilities I'd never imagined.

When Kolos answered the knock at the door of our first guest, I was light enough with happy potential to skip down the stairs to the foyer. Even if it was Old Sirius himself, nothing could shake my new sense of anticipation. It wasn't Sirius who received my first greeting, but an old friend of the family who beamed back at my radiant welcome.

Soon, more guests trickled in, including my grandfather who was waylaid in his attempts to cross the vast reception room by people stopping him to chat. His eyes continually met mine and I could tell from his urgent gaze that he wanted to speak with me.

I assumed this would be an apology for my Seeing even though I couldn't blame him for it. He and Bassio's relationship had been strained ever since my mother's death. It was as if each blamed the other for her loss: Grandfather blamed Bassio for not appeasing the gods, and Bassio blamed Grandfather for not seeing the illness coming that took so many people including Papi's mother as well as mine. Grandfather possibly saw my false birthday prediction as a way to make amends; he couldn't have known my father's reasoning behind it, its consequences, nor how it would be linked to Sirius's prophecy earlier that day.

Responding to his pleading expression, I hurried over to save my grandfather from one of the town merchants who would have bent his ear with chatter until dawn if I didn't interrupt.

"I apologize, Gaius," I said, resting my hand on my grandfather's arm, "but I need to borrow this old soothsayer for a bit."

Gaius said a quick goodbye then immediately began speaking to a man to his left as my grandfather pulled me to a corner to speak. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, darling girl, if I had known Bassio's intentions, I wouldn't have given in to him. I just–"

"It's nothing. I'm over the shock." I yearned to tell my grandfather my plan, but wouldn't dare. If he knew nothing of my plot to flee Dekos, he couldn't be blamed for not stopping me. The realization I might not see him again sent a sudden ache through my heart. No, I told myself, I would be with my grandfather. I would send for him the moment I settled down. "I just wish I could understand his anger. If my time with Papinias bothered him so much, why not just order me to stop?"

"You think that's why he's angry? Because of your relationship with Papinias?"

"It's the excuse he gave."

My grandfather gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head

"A year ago, your father went for a Seeing. Not from me. He doesn't come to me. He went to a trio of sisters known for having excellent Sight. The Grey Sisters. Quite well known."

"I remember he left Bendria for several days." How could I forget? It was on one of those days that Papi and I first enjoyed one another in the olive grove. "The moment of his return his attitude toward me changed even though there's no way he could have known about me and Papi."

"No, he didn't learn of that for months. The sisters told him a prophecy about you. That you and someone you love will enter his house and bring with you the destruction of the High Priest of Bendria. He has been wondering what to do with you ever since. It's my theory he believes that by ripping you away from Papinias you will have no love, that by casting you out of Bendria so harshly, you won't want to return."

"Even if I did, he couldn't kill my love for Papi."

My grandfather was about to say something when movement across the room caught his attention. I turned to follow his gaze. A slave was pouring wine. His back was turned to us, blocking the view of whom he served, but when he stepped aside he revealed Papinias holding a full cup. My elation at seeing him died as quickly as a lamp put in a deluge.

"Father invited Papi?" Bassio had never invited Papinias to one of these dinners. In fact, he never spoke to Papinias or any of his family unless he was required to, and even then only muttered one or two terse sentences.

"I wouldn't have thought Bassio so cruel. Papinias must been have invited here tonight to torment him with the news."

"Papi probably thinks this dinner and his invitation means I've spoken to Father and he's going to announce our betrothal. He wants Papi here to see him crushed."

"I can see no other reason for the invitation. Don't give him the satisfaction of watching your faithful friend's hopes dashed. Go tell him what this dinner is about so he can prepare himself for the announcement. Let Papinias maintain his pride."

My grandfather wished me luck then shuffled over to speak with a man at least two decades his senior who droned on as slow as honey drizzles from a jar in winter. I pushed through the crowd, using the excuse that I needed to check on the dinner preparations for my inability to stop and chat. Finally, after crossing what felt like half of Osteria, I was spit from the crowd and came face to face with Papinias. He smiled his roguish grin and as I met his hazel eyes, the bustle and hum of the room vanished.

"Imagine meeting you here," he whispered in my ear.

As much as I wanted to flirt I had to tell him what was happening. The noise of chatter and clinking cups flooded back over me, as did my trepidation over what I had to tell him. I hated that I would hurt him, but my grandfather was right. Let Papi know now so he could be calm and collected when the announcement was made, not wallowing in despair or shouting with rage. Let us both be seen as the dignified victims in this play Bassio had written. I cursed my father again and pulled Papinias into the hallway, out of the way of the noises that were grating on my ears.

"Sofia, we can't, not here–" he said in a tone that gave every indication he was perfectly willing to if I was.

"Hush," I put my finger to his lips. I did want to. I wanted him worse than ever, but I needed to hurry before someone came looking for us. "Look, there's going to be an announcement tonight, but don't worry, I have a plan."

"Speak plainly, Sofia." His voice had gone grave.

"Father betrothed me to that idiot from the market. But he's married already so I'm supposed to wait. But I'm not waiting for him. I'm not marrying him. I am still marrying you." I tapped his chest with my finger. He closed the gap between us and I could have melted into him right there. I pushed him back, but only slightly. "We can run away together. Would you do that?"

"I would enter the depths of Hades's Chasm to be with you."

He bent his head down and pressed his lips to mine. I didn't resist. Through my closed lids I sensed the hallway darken. I broke from the embrace and stepped back from Papi expecting to see Kolos or my grandfather, but it was the hawk-nosed companion of Sirius casting his shadow over us. I didn't know how much he had heard, but I knew what he had seen. When I refused to look away or act ashamed over what he'd witnessed, he tilted his head farewell and slid back into the bustling reception room with a smug look on his face.

"I need to get back." I squeezed Papi's hand not wanting to let go. "Just remember, no matter what happens tonight, we will be together."

I turned to get back to the crowd. Papi slackened his grip, letting our fingers linger as long as possible. Before the noise of the party filled my ears, Papi whispered a portion of the words from the traditional marriage ceremony: "Never shall the bond be broken." I entered the reception room with a grin as broad and cheeks as warm as if I had succumbed to my desire.

* * *

Soon enough, the time came for the guests to file into the dining hall for a meal that would last several hours. I had no stomach for food and even less after I noticed the hawkish spy huddled in conversation with my scowling father and with Sirius who looked about as intelligent as the temple cats who liked to chase their own tails. Sirius patted my father's arm and said something that brought smiles and nods from him. He then shook Sirius's hand. My stomach churned in anger. Why couldn't he treat Papinias with half the friendliness he showed this total stranger? Because of my mother's infidelity? Because of some silly prophecy? My father had to know I'd never do anything to hurt him, regardless of how he was treating me.

As custom dictated, I sat to my father's left at a table on a raised dais at the head of room. He didn't object, but he also offered me no greeting. In one section of the dining hall, to honor Sirius who I learned was from Seattica, a few couches had been set up in the Seattican style of reclining while dining, but the majority of seating was at tables situated so the guests would face the high table. Trying not to be obvious, I glanced around the room, but couldn't find Papinias's table. Foolishly, I assumed Father would seat him as far from us as possible, but I misunderstood how far Bassio's cruelty had advanced. He had placed Papinias and his father only two tables away – far enough for us to not be able to talk, but close enough for him to hear the announcement clearly and for my father to watch his face when the news was given.

Sirius sat across from me. I avoided talking to him unless I had to answer a direct question. Thankfully, the man seated to my right couldn't get enough of his own voice and dominated the conversation at our table. The hawk-nosed man sat next to Sirius with a sneer on his face that only disappeared when he feigned a smile at one of Sirius's comments.

Although I tried to avoid speaking with my betrothed, he introduced the man as his cousin Plautinius. The two men could not be more dissimilar. Even though I wanted to find no good in him, after several courses, I could see Sirius had the relaxed, confident demeanor Seatticans were known for; engaging eyes that encouraged people to speak with him (I will have to admit he did have pleasant eyes and his face did not look nearly so old as I wanted to believe); and an overall jovial and likable disposition – if you weren't being forced to marry to him, that is.

His cousin, with his hard eyes and gash of a mouth, looked perpetually displeased. Having studied people all my life, I recognized him as someone who thrived on gossip and whose good side was as difficult to find as mongrel without fleas. He was one best avoided, but Sirius, blind as he was gullible, saw none of this and seemed to truly enjoy spending time with this surly man. With every one of Plautinius's eye rolls and sneers, I was glad that after tomorrow I would never feel his shadow cast over me again.

Because the waiting for the dreaded declaration left me with no appetite, I merely picked my way through various courses of seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and braised beef. Bassio, on the other hand, was full of life, cheerful, even boisterous as if unable to contain his excitement over getting rid of me. When everyone had received a portion from a platter of wild rice seasoned with thyme and mushrooms, Bassio gave a little nod to Kolos. The announcement would come soon.

Relief that the waiting was over sent a wave of hunger through me. I wanted it over with. I wanted the news out and couldn't wait for Bassio to witness Papinias's poise and dignity. I rushed through my serving, but everyone else, full from the previous courses, nibbled the savory grains with agonizing sluggishness.

Finally the plates were cleared. We had only my beautifully decorated lavender cakes left to get through. Despite their full bellies, people's eyes darted with anticipation to the edges of the room where slaves stood holding trays filled with squares of the decadently scented dessert. My father rose to make his speech and clanged a fork on a glass to divert our guests' attention from the sweets. Sirius looked so pleased I thought his smile would engulf his face. If I believed that smile was truly for me and not for some falsified prediction, I could have almost contemplated Sirius as a kind and doting husband. Mostly, though, I just thought he was a fool.

"Everyone, friends, I have an announcement," Bassio said in his temple voice, the voice that had enough depth and resonance to be heard beyond the temple portico even if he stood to the very back of the building. "My daughter is sixteen and as such is ready to marry. I have been presented with many choices." I wondered what these were. Were there other men he had considered selling me off to or was it a choice between Sirius and banishing me from Bendria to fend for myself? "But I have thought on this long and hard and have decided she will marry the magistrate Sirius Verus of Seattica."

A hushed silence fell over the room interspersed with a few belches. More than a few jaws gaped open and many reached for their cups of wine to cover up their shocked expressions. These people knew me. They surely expected the name of my betrothed to be Papinias. Now they had to absorb that their high priest was marrying his daughter off to a stranger who wasn't even a Bendrian.

I glanced up at my father to see how he was taking their reactions. His gaze was fixed on Papinias, no doubt hoping to see my lover's face fall in grief or perhaps even see tears of anguish. But my warning kept Bassio from being satisfied in this regard. Knowing him as I did, I could detect the tension in Papi's lips, but he sat with a calm smile on his face and even raised his cup in a toast to my father. Papi must have alerted his father as well because he also sat with a pleased, albeit taut, expression on his face. The corners of my lips twitched up slightly at my minor coup over my father. I then fixed a serene look on my face hoping all would notice how well I handled this indignity. "Once married, she shall move to wherever the good Solon Candus places Sirius."

Murmurs of complaint and confusion buzzed across the room. Casting me off to a foreigner was one thing, but these people had seen me train alongside my father, had watched me perform the rites like an acolyte, had consulted with me in matters of the gods when my father was busy. Even they expected me to be priestess, even they felt my life being pulled away from me like a market trickster yanking a cloth from under a tableful of dishes. I held my head high, but cast my eyes down demurely. I must appear proud but humble, loyal but betrayed.

Plautinius initiated the applause with a few slow, emphatic claps of his long hands. The room filled with others doing the same, but as I glanced up I saw not everyone in the hall followed suit and some people were getting up to leave.

My father nodded his head in acceptance of the lifeless congratulations then returned to his seat, snapped his fingers, and invited everyone to enjoy the lavender cakes. Thankfully, my chatty neighbor resumed his talk as if nothing odd had occurred, as if he couldn't sense the unease that filled the hall. His prattling distracted me, giving me something to focus on.

Later, as the guests filed out, I couldn't escape Sirius's attention. His cousin was behind him and my father loomed next to me certainly waiting for some tone of insolence toward my betrothed. He reminded me of a schoolmaster watching over two children who didn't get along but were being forced to apologize to one another, as if he had to keep an eye on us or we would come to blows.

I refused to give him the satisfaction of scolding me and remained cordial to my unwanted fiancé. When Papi strode past us, he made a face with crossed eyes and twisted mouth. Only I caught it and had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. Sirius must have noticed my eyes wander and glanced over his shoulder. He and Papinias nodded a greeting to one another before my love disappeared into the night.

## CHAPTER SEVEN

### _The Departure_

THERE WAS ONE piece of news I celebrated that night: Saltia informed me Kolos had overheard that Sirius would be leaving Bendria the following day to head to Seattica, the northern polis sandwiched between Athenos and Vancuse that often vied with Portaceae for rule over Osteria. I delighted at being free of him so soon. Bassio would certainly keep tight reins on me, but it wouldn't be hard to meet with Papinias and organize our escape.

After all, as a bride-to-be I would have to go to the agora to select fabrics for the new clothes I would need for travel, for the marriage ceremony, and for my new life as a wife. If Papi happened to be in the marketplace too, well, it would only be polite to say hello to such an old friend. I didn't delude myself that we would be able to get away to the grove, but we could clasp hands while exchanging notes full of our plans to flee. We might even walk side by side a few moments to discuss the wares and weather while building the anticipation for our departure in the middle of one night when we would start our new life in Francisca. Or Portaceae.

These thoughts, and the thrill of soon being rid of Sirius, had me in a pleasant mood when my betrothed stopped in to say his goodbyes the next morning. With a welcoming expression on my face, I joined Sirius, Plautinius, and Bassio in the courtyard where we broke our fast on tea and leftover lavender cake.

"This is delicious," Sirius said. "I'm surprised there's any left."

"Many guests left the dinner before getting their portions. They said they couldn't stomach any more," I said, giving my father an arching glance. He narrowed his eyes and mouthed, "Hush."

"Their loss," Sirius said, too busy with his sweets to notice the silent exchange.

"Plautinius, I have that book you asked about," my father said, making a poor show of subtlety. He and the Hawk – a name I couldn't help giving to this looming, beak-faced man – departed, leaving Sirius and me alone.

The magistrate smiled at me. A sugar-coated purple petal perched at the corner of his mouth as he reached toward me. If he dared to kiss me I would use my knee on him as Papinias had taught me to do if any man tried to attack me. I only did it gently on Papi, but he swore it was an effective move if done with force and speed. But Sirius only offered to pour me more tea, so I held my knee in check and curtly refused his offer.

"Sofia, I know this isn't what you planned." I shot a glare at him for presuming to know what I wanted in life, but his was a face you simply couldn't be angry with. It just looked so content, so assured, like that of a dimwitted dog. "But I hope you will come to accept me."

"I don't think I can, not in my heart. Even if I honor the contract, it's only because I am legally bound to."

"Why? I am a good man. It won't be a bad life with me."

"There's nothing in it for me." The simple comment contained many layers of meaning: there could never be any love between us, I would lose my dream both of marrying Papinias and of assuming my position as priestess, and I would have no future as a respected and revered part of the temple. Sirius was nearly forty, an age when most men were established in their careers. But from what Kolos had learned, when my betrothed returned to Seattica, he would be moving into a position lower than magistrate. Sirius was moving down in the world, not up. For someone with my hopes and ambitions, marriage to him would turn my life into nothing more than loveless obscurity.

"Is it status you want? I've held good positions in Portaceae. I know I'm only of the equine class, but I am middle equine, not lower."

"I honestly have no concern for the old class system and wish we could do away with it altogether, but status I have by right of birth and by the position I would have had as priestess. My status of patrine won't be lost upon marrying you, but I will lose power, I'll lose the chance for position and respect from my people who would have looked up to me as something akin to a goddess. With you, I'll merely be the wife of a man who is little more than a secretary to the secretaries of the Solon."

Sirius shifted from his bench and marched over to me. I half expected a slap for my insolent honesty, but instead he knelt before me. The move surprised me so much, I didn't even think to recoil when he took my hands in his.

"With a wife like you beside me, I could achieve anything." Combined with his sincere expression, the words were almost heart-warming. "The oracle said you will marry a king. You can be the one to make me great."

I rolled my eyes and slipped my hands out of his.

"The prediction was fake. Paid for by my father to lure in the nearest fool. You should know that if it's what you've based your proposal on. False representation is a legal way out of the contract," I said with hope at the edge of my voice.

"But this fool, as you call me, also read a similar message from the gods before I ever spoke to your grandfather. I often do my own star charts, and only went to him to confirm what I'd seen. I went to your grandfather the very morning I arrived in Dekos, before your Seeing was even done, I believe. I didn't know who he was then, he didn't know me, and I didn't tell him what I'd seen in my charts. He told me if I look for a woman in the market I will find the one who will make me the most powerful man in Osteria. A few hours later I saw the figurine in the market, bought it without haggling, and there you were."

I have to say I was surprised. Why had Bassio not told me this? He mentioned Sirius's prophecy, but not how my grandfather's Seeing meshed so tightly with Sirius's star chart reading. And the very nature of the Seeing was unusual. It was so clear, so precise, not a jumble of words left to be sifted through for the tiniest scrap of meaning. I watched Sirius with new eyes as he pushed himself up with a grunt and returned to his own bench. This time I took the tea he offered.

"You enjoy making star charts?" I asked, trying to change subjects.

"I'm a firm believer that the gods guide our destiny and we might be able to guess what they're up to if we pay attention to the stars."

"But even if you have an inkling of the gods' minds, you can't sit around waiting for them to move you about like a pawn on a chessboard. We have to play an active role in our own lives."

"I suppose, but don't we become who we are because of where the gods put the stars? Isn't that why we have the oracles? They see what's intended for us so we can realize the opportunities when they present themselves. Without that Seeing, I might have just thought you an annoying, spoiled girl who didn't know her place. With the prediction, and your chastisement, I saw my future opening before me. Still," he said with a shrug, "I always cast the worst charts, the most inaccurate ones, when Hera is in my birth sign. Seems I can do nothing right when that goddess is lurking around."

"My charts' nemesis is Zeus," I said, thinking of the irony that Zeus should be the favored god of Sirius's home polis. "We clearly have some unresolved conflict with these gods."

I don't know if it was my words or the fact that I was speaking to him conversationally, but a beaming smile filled Sirius's face. Despite myself I smiled back and didn't mind continuing the conversation. What harm could it do after all? Even if I wasn't planning to leave for Portaceae (or the Califf Lands) with Papinias, Sirius was so old he might die before his current wife did. One conversation to please an old man couldn't hurt.

In short time, my father and the Hawk returned like rain clouds darkening a pleasant day. I abruptly stopped talking, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing Sirius and me getting along. We both rose and I gave a small bow of my head to Bassio in greeting. Sirius moved to stand near me and when I didn't back away, my father smirked.

"It's time to go, Sirius," the Hawk announced.

With Sirius by my side and my father and Plautinius in front of us, we passed from the courtyard to the foyer. When we reached the door, Sirius moved in closer. I readied my knee, but there was no attempt at a kiss, not even a chaste one of farewell.

Instead, he took my hand and opened it to expose the palm. From the pouch on his belt he pulled the figurine, placed it in my hand, and curled my fingers around the cool object. The last I'd seen of it was yesterday – _Dear Apollo, had it only been yesterday_? – after leaving it on the table in the courtyard when my father buried my hopes in the horrid news of my betrothal. Although I noticed the orange tree had taken a prominent place in the courtyard, I had given no thought to where the figurine had gone.

"Take this," he said, his voice full of warmth. "Keep it to remember the stars have placed us together."

I have to admit, the sincerity in his voice and the admiring, hopeful look in his eyes, had me feeling fondly for Sirius. If I had turned away then and gone to my rooms, I might have wondered once or twice over the next months if perhaps we were destined for each other, if maybe I should respect the gods' wishes and try to accept this man. Perhaps this Sirius would be a kind husband and, even though I would be frustrated over my lot in life, we might find a friendly peace with one another.

I was a heartbeat from giving the old man a kiss on his cheek when my father opened the main door. Like vinegar on newly emerging seedlings, the scene he revealed destroyed any soft feelings I might have sprouted for Sirius.

Alongside two horses with the sleek muscles and fine heads of Astorian stock, stood a smaller horse, squat and round like pony. On this mount, with one of the magisterial guards pointing a spear toward his chest, sat Papinias, his face taut with surly hatred. Without a word, without a glance back to me, my betrothed and his cousin marched out of my house and mounted their steeds.

"Papinias!" I screamed.

I tried to run, but Bassio held me back. It didn't take much. I was small and the shock of what was happening left me without the strength to wrestle away from his fierce grasp. I shouted Papi's name again. Sirius made as if to turn his head to look toward me, but Plautinius shouted a command and the horses pranced into a canter.

I beat at my father's arms with the figurine. In moves as quick as riding into the heat of battle, the group trotted away with several mounted guards flanking Papinias in front, back, and to the side to block any attempt at escape. I strained to watch him as long as I could, but my eyes flooded.

I went limp and my father released his grip. The instant my mind registered the freedom, I bolted, but the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves and the carts' wheels clung to the moisture in my eyes and blinded me. A stone caught my toe. I tripped and collapsed in the street; the gritty surface scraped my elbows raw. As my love rode away, I screamed Papi's name until my voice went hoarse. Behind me came the whoosh and bang of the main door being slammed shut.

It was Kolos who eventually helped me up and into the house. Bassio stood rigid in the foyer as Kolos led me through. With blood dripping from my arms, dirt coating my dress, and mud caking my cheeks I must have looked like a mad woman. Indeed, I think I may have been. I charged at Bassio. I wanted to claw his eyes out. He raised his hands in defense, but Kolos pulled me up short to prevent my attack.

"Why is Papinias in Sirius's party?" I huffed from my nose like a taunted bull.

"Plautinius believed your future husband could use a medic and I also pointed out your friend's talents as a scribe. I remembered how you constantly reminded me of the boy's skills and intellect and that I never gave him full credit for them. Now I have. It's time that boy saw the world. He needs to see there are other options for him."

So many insults and curses raged through my mind I couldn't give voice to any single one. I didn't have to. From the street and in through the open door marched Papinias's father, Rius, looking as ravaged in body and soul as I felt.

"You can't do this, Bassio. My son is not a slave. You cannot just take my boy."

"I cannot, no. But as magistrate to the Solon, Sirius can conscript any man he needs from this polis."

Legally, this was true but it was a little-used policy since Portaceae had many citizens who were more than willing to serve the Osterian realm. Rius's shoulders slouched. Even if he didn't like it, it wasn't a policy he could fight. It was part of our agreement when we slipped under the Osterian wing.

As a newly acquired polis, the people of Bendria would not be considered full Osterian citizens until we proved our loyalty for twelve years. Until that time we wouldn't be granted the same rights the Portaceans possessed. We would be subject to different taxes, our votes would only count for half, and different laws kept us from the liberties citizens enjoyed. Without true citizenship, Papinias could be conscripted into whatever service the Solon or his representatives needed. It was a common topic of debate and one that added fuel to the desire of several of the poli to split from Osteria and form their own city-states, with each one being represented by the god that most favored the area.

But at that moment the law meant nothing. This was too personal to frame it in the confines of a rigid legal system. Rius shuffled his gaunt frame over to me, held me by the shoulders, and kissed both my cheeks.

"I still consider you my daughter-in-law and you will always be welcome in my home. How such a spark of a girl came from someone as horrible as Bassio I will never understand. The gods surely made a mistake in giving you to him."

New tears spilled over my cheeks as Rius turned to the bright light streaming through the open door and slumped his way out as if all life had drained from him. I knew exactly how he felt.

"Fool," my father muttered and stormed out of the room to begin his day's work at the temple.

Only once I was alone did I realize I still clutched the figurine. I wanted to dash the thing to the floor, crush it under a stone, and scatter the pieces to the winds. But I didn't have the strength, emotionally or physically. Instead, I laughed at it. This stupid piece of rock, the size of a chicken's egg had completely ruined my life. If I was a child of Apollo, he certainly was doing nothing to favor me.

Saltia soon appeared carrying a fresh towel and clean tunic as she led me to the small private bath in our house. She undressed and cleaned me as if I were a baby. And like a baby I whimpered with every squeeze of the sponge.

## CHAPTER EIGHT

### _The Waiting_

THE FOLLOWING DAYS were a blur of misery. I wanted away from my father, but I also didn't want to leave the house because any sympathetic gesture or word of consolation would have sent me crying all over again and I knew that was something I needed to stop or I would lose myself in a pool of tears and never emerge.

Bassio and I spoke little during this time. It seemed I was invisible to him. Even the lowliest household slave garnered more attention from him over the next weeks than I did. But outside our household it was Bassio who was being shunned. In most cases, few would mourn a disobedient girl, but the people of Dekos had seen Papinias and I together since we were children. None of them doubted our devotion to each other just as no one had ever doubted I'd take up the role of high priestess when I turned eighteen.

With what he'd done, Bassio lost a great deal trust and respect in Dekos. People started turning to the Mithran temples of the bull and even the cult of Helios rather than worship with my father. If my love and I truly were destined to ruin the high priest, he'd done a good job at setting a spark to turning that prophecy into reality.

* * *

One afternoon, Bassio arrived home early. I normally wouldn't have noticed his return, but he came in as loud as a thunderstorm and as violent as a hurricane. In the midst of his shouting at Kolos, something heavy crashed to the ground. I hurried from the courtyard to see if everyone was alright. The only injury was to a statue of a pair of wood nymphs, but Bassio turned his anger on me. "You. You're the cause of this."

"Cause of what?" I asked, thinking I'd left something for him to trip over and he'd toppled the statue as he tried to right himself.

"You've disgraced me with your promiscuity and with that hideous show when Papinias left. The embarrassment you've–"

My throat had ached from my anguished screams for days after Papi left, but it had fully healed by now. I cut off my father in mid-rant. After having never given this man even the smallest dose of back talk, I was going to drown him in it now.

"You're right. My parentage and some vague prophecy you've commissioned from three witches clearly means I deserve your abuse. I alone am to blame for the people's dislike of you. I am the worst daughter you could have ever educated and trained. There was no possible happiness for me with Papinias, nor any joy in being a priestess in your temple. I am glad you have saved me from the life I thought I wanted and have guided me toward my future husband. I look forward to the day Sirius and I wed and I am finally free of you."

Before I could even recognize the raising of his hand as an act of aggression, my father slapped me across the face so hard that my teeth were loose for a week. It brought me pure pain and a bruise that took weeks to fully disappear, but my sarcastic speech did stop Bassio's insults.

In fact, he stopped talking to me altogether.

After a couple weeks of enduring the fragile tension, I packed my belongings and went to live with my grandfather to avoid being in Bassio's presence. Even though she wasn't my property yet, I took Saltia with me as well. My father could have objected, even accused me of theft, but I think he wanted so little to do with me that he never raised the issue.

I longed to flee Dekos. I suppose if I was one of the fearless, warrior women of Amazonia, I might have, but striking out on my own would put me at risk of robbery and rape during my travels.

Even if I did reach my destination unharmed, as a woman, even a patrine woman, without a father's blessing or a husband's backing I would have no position. I could obtain no work except that of cleaning or whoring, and my every move would be questioned. There were Osterian women who had attained great power, but they had only done so as wives to already powerful men, or at least to men who were supposed to be powerful. I did not look forward to a marriage to Sirius, but since I couldn't run away, a loveless and unwanted marriage was my only hope for escape.

* * *

Having grown up with Papinias as my best friend, I had no other close companions. I had acquaintances and I was familiar with everyone who had ever come to the temple to seek my blessing or advice, but these weren't true friends. Saltia and I were closer than sisters, but she was still a slave and had household duties to tend to during the day. And my grandfather spent his days doling out the gods' wisdom as vaguely as any oracle.

For companionship and for the longing to be amongst Papi's things, I volunteered to help Rius organize Papi's library. The work went slowly since I ended up leafing through each book to see if Papi had jotted any notes or made any doodles in the margins. Pain stabbed at my heart each time I found one, but I adored each sample of his careful handwriting. As I perused these works, I also grew curious about what was written on the pages, not just at their edges.

Although I understood the sciences of the skies and seasons, I had never been wise about the effects of medicines, the source of diseases, or the strange workings of the body. It was something Papi teased me about to no end since I was smarter than him in most other subjects. I began reading, first out of curiosity, then with the thought of how proud Papinias would be that I was learning more about his favorite subject. It somehow made me feel closer to him and I couldn't help but dream that one day we might be together, we would set up our own medic's clinic, and I, with my new knowledge, would assist Papinias.

Besides fodder for daydreams, these studies also earned me a new occupation to fill my lonely hours. A few months after Papi was ripped from my life, his former tutor, Alerio, returned to Bendria for the winter. He'd been traveling across Osteria and the Califf Lands collecting theories of the body, techniques for healing, and recipes for medicaments with plans to compile all this acquired knowledge into an extensive body of work on medicine. It was an amazing goal, and organizing and transcribing his notes was the perfect distraction for a heart weary girl who imagined her love referring to the book one day.

"Don't you have better things to do than read about poxes and feces?" Alerio asked one day.

"Believe me, poxes and feces are better than dwelling on Sirius."

"But you can't enjoy spending your day with a decrepit old man."

Alerio was old, at least two decades older than Sirius, but hardly decrepit. He took daily exercise as if training to be a soldier. People laughed when they saw him marching up and down the street in front of his rooms, lifting half-full amphorae as he raised his arms to the side and overhead, and twisting his body to and fro, but he insisted exercise kept people young. He was certainly fit and lithe, but I still liked to tease him about his age.

"Perhaps I'm getting myself used to the company of geriatric men."

"Is your betrothed so old?"

"He's nearly forty."

"Zeus in the sky! I hope this Sirius keeps a funeral pyre at hand. He might drop dead at any second." I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. "Forty is old for some, Sofia, but not all. If Sirius is fit and in good health he could live another forty years."

"Please Alerio, I'm depressed enough."

Sadly, old men don't make the longest-lasting companions. At the start of winter, Alerio and I thought Rius was finally putting weight on his scrawny frame when his belly turned into a paunch. By midwinter, after much pressing and prodding, Alerio gave him the sorry news that it was a cancer. I assisted Alerio when, as a last resort, he tried to remove the tumor using a skill he learned in Francisca. I didn't flinch at the blood of the surgery; in all honesty, it didn't seem much different than the occasional animal sacrifices I'd assisted with at the temple. But Rius wasn't strong enough and, a few weeks after the removal, another of the gods' lumps of clay crumbled to dust.

Barely two months later, my world shattered once again when Grandfather died in his sleep. As I watched his body burn on the funeral pyre, I swore that the gods had run out of happiness and there was none left to dole out.

With my grandfather gone, I should have returned to Bassio's house, but I made the excuse that I needed to tend to Grandfather's final wishes, organize his belongings, and find a new oracle for Dekos. I made sure to draw out these tasks, not only to avoid going home, but to delay the reality of having to say goodbye to another man I loved.

## CHAPTER NINE

### _The News_

AFTER TOILING TOGETHER for four months, Alerio and I had managed to arrange his pile of papers according to symptoms, ailments, and body parts. There was still work to do in compiling the small scraps of notes he endlessly produced from his bottomless satchels, in copying and coloring his anatomical drawings, and in classifying the herbal recipes (which I had been surprised to see often matched the potions the sorceress had taught me). Even though he worried about my being lonely, I knew this roaming medic was itching to get back on the road to gather more for his tome. As soon as the spring Festival of Demeter was over, Alerio took up his travels once more, trusting me with the tedious work that still needed to be done.

One of the few distractions I had from my work and my misery were letters from Sirius. Although I admit to crumpling up and burning several of these long messages at first, curiosity eventually got the better of me. As odd as it sounds, once I started reading them I ended up looking forward to their arrival. Not because they were from Sirius, but because they contained news of Portaceae which was where, after his brief stint in Seattica (I must have burned the letter that explained when and why he left), he had been called to. I could never determine what Sirius's exact position was now, but for all his supposed need of a scribe, none of these letters ever bore Papinias's handwriting.

Most of the news revolved around our ineffectual Solon, Candus, son of the great Antonius. Although the realm of Osteria was strong, the politics in Portaceae were a mess – if Papinias and I had escaped to there, we might have regretted not going to the Califf Lands.

Solon Antonius had been well loved and respected and his natural ability to lead had brought a unity to Osteria never seen before. Early in his rule, he had expanded Osteria using a policy not of aggression or bribery or underhanded dealings, but one of treaties, compromise, and logical debates. Other solons had begun the work of gathering the poli under one realm ruled from Portaceae City, but it was Antonius who made people, even the fiercely independent Tillaceans in the west and the Areans in the east, proud to be Osterian – although the Areans still raided their Osterian neighbors on a regular basis.

Since his father's death a few years ago, Candus wasn't even remotely living up to Antonius's precedence. Osteria's past few solons had been wise men who ruled through fairness and wise thinking, consulting with Athena when justice was needed, with Hera when family matters were at issue, with Demeter when grain merchants needed advice, and with Dionysus when there were Osteria-wide festivities to plan. But Candus consulted only with Candus and, after the honeymoon period of his solonship ended, the people had begun to grumble.

Candus's love of taking part in gladiatorial bouts and holding extravagant games in the Portacean Arena made him immensely popular with some Portaceans. He was a showman, a braggart, and this appealed to certain personalities who saw only the bravado and not where his irresponsibility might take Osteria. But there were far more Osterians who wanted Candus out of the purple, and some didn't hide their hope that an assassin's blade might find him.

At this time, Candus's lover, a man of the servine class named Terus, took a more active role in running Portaceae than our Solon did. Candus, in my opinion, was a mad fool. Not that any medic would dare to diagnose lunacy, but how could any sane person who had, by right of birth alone, been awarded the highest power of a stable and wealthy realm disregard his duties and leave it in the hands of others? It was like giving a puppy to an irresponsible child who left the feeding, training, and cleaning up to anyone who might happen by.

Portacean politics were a mess. All solons in the past had been of high patrine status. Now, low patrine governors, middle equine consuls, and even vigile commanders of lower equine status had their sights set on the solonship and no one was questioning the possibility of them taking the purple. The fact that a servine like Terus was allowed to make decisions and rulings that affected the realm banded the equines and patrines together in their hostility toward Candus. Unfortunately, they took it out not on Candus, but on his servant, and Terus was found one morning on the banks of the Col River with his throat slit open.

According to Sirius, Candus went wild with grief over the loss. Despite advisors goading him to act, to be a leader, he did nothing but mope about the Solonian Palace and refused to have anything to do with any aspect of leadership. He wouldn't even sign documents put before him. Despite this, he wasn't entirely blind to the mood in Portaceae and grew fearful to the point of paranoia about plots being raised against him.

This fear, wrote Sirius, opened wide the door for someone to step in and take advantage of it. An advisor, an equine named Ennis, saw the opportunity. After much cajoling and telling Candus he was doing the right thing by grieving for his friend, our easily-influenced solon grew to trust Ennis who used his newfound proximity to Candus to block out any other news from the Solon's ears. Instead, Ennis brought his own reports that exaggerated even the tiniest rumor of rebellion. From the Solonian Guard rising up to the servines planning a revolt, from the centaurs staging a coup to the Middish invading, Ennis's tales built within Candus a mountain of fear out of the smallest motes of dust.

By now, Candus had taken a new lover, a cunning servant woman named Darra. Under Ennis's advice, the Solon took off with her to the safety of the private Solonian estate in Illamos Valley, the polis that bordered Portaceae to the south. Sirius, showing a rare bit of cynicism, noted his suspicion that Darra might be using Candus's grief to her own advantage.

Sirius's suspicions weren't misplaced. In his next letter, he wrote that Darra had bragged to his face about sneaking her way into Candus's trust from between the Solon's bedsheets. If Sirius had gone to Candus then, what might have happened? Would Candus have promoted him? Would he have honored him, maybe even made him heir for saving him from danger? But Sirius kept quiet, saying it wasn't his place to get involved in the Solon's love life, and so remained in the audience of people watching this play for power.

With Candus tucked away from the world, Ennis was Solon in all but name as the true Solon took his pleasure with Darra, raced chariots, consumed gallons of wine, and held his own private gladiator shows in which he battled drugged beasts and hunger-weakened criminals in his estate's private arena. "Everyone can appreciate a sturdy young man who enjoys his entertainments," Sirius wrote, "and it is encouraging to know we have such a strong solon full of vitality, but I do hope he grows up soon and learns to rule. It's as if he can't think and rather than have advisors – or a wife – to guide him, he simply allows the advisors take over, which with Ennis's skill, might be for the best."

Indeed, with Candus at his retreat and no longer draining the budgets, it was a prosperous time for Portaceae. Ennis proved an able and fair ruler who took no liberties for himself and actually reunited Osteria's legions who had been on the verge revolt. But it was the words "or a wife" that drew my attention and made me see a different possibility with Sirius.

All along I'd assumed my marriage to him would be a life of obscurity, of being put aside except when required to greet people or to pleasure him in bed. But what if his Seeing and star charts were correct? What if Sirius was destined for greatness if he married me? Could the solonship be in his future? If he was a solon who took the advice of a clever wife or who let his wife rule alongside him, I would be the most powerful woman in Osteria. And if Sirius proved too lazy to rule, I could step into his place to lead and keep Osteria stable.

It wasn't unheard of. After all, Osteria's first Solon let his wife, Cahlia, a wise woman ten years his senior, make most of the decisions for Portaceae, so why shouldn't I? Don't get me wrong, I didn't hold much hope that Sirius would truly be Solon; he'd be lucky to be made a governor. As far as I knew, he wasn't amongst that group struggling to gain control over Candus, nor was he in Ennis's inner circle. I would also discover that Sirius was a man naturally loyal to his leaders and rarely took action without being pushed into it.

Whenever I had these thoughts of a fulfilled life with Sirius, I flicked them away as if flinging mud from my fingertips. It betrayed Papinias to imagine being happy or making a life with Sirius. But as the months dragged on and my work on Alerio's project came to an end and still I had no hint of a message from Papi, I began to accept that Papinias wasn't coming to rescue me, that I would be marrying Sirius, and that I would need to find some way to be happy or go as mad as Candus.

Ennis's timing in getting the various legions to return their loyalty to Osteria could not have been better. Not long after Sirius informed me of their return to service, war broke out against the Middish, a large tribe of mutated bandits who clustered in the foothills at Osteria's eastern border. The Middish often raided and skirmishes weren't uncommon, but every few years an all out war would erupt with these uncivilized beasts. Had the legions still been refusing to defend Osteria, how far might the Middish have spread?

Although Osteria's vigiles could never tame the Middish or eradicate them, they were able to push the tribes further east with each of these battles. This time they were driven deeper into the Great Mountain Range than ever before. The names of two vigile commanders featured prominently in Sirius's news of this success: Albinus and Rigen. From his descriptions of their tactics and strategies, I could tell Sirius idolized the two fighters. Both were capable leaders who won every attack they mounted and their men loved them. Even in Bendria, talk could be heard of one of them replacing Candus.

* * *

In between all these letters, I took it upon myself to find a new oracle for Bendria. I didn't rush at this task since the new oracle would take up residence in my grandfather's house and I would have to return to living under Bassio's roof. But the people needed an oracle especially as they were reluctant to go to the temple any longer for advice. I recalled my grandfather often speaking of a man he'd trained a few years ago.

I remembered Quintus as being kind, intelligent, and with hair the brightest flame of red I'd ever seen. His hair was made to look even more intense against his pale skin and brought out the vivid warmth of his dark blue eyes. I wrote to him and offered him the position of oracle if he was ready for it. He was and within a month he had tidied up his affairs in one of the western districts of Bendria and I was forced to return to the cold confines of my father's house.

By this time it had been ten months since Sirius left and I dared to hope that he'd been wrong in his diagnosis, that his wife might not be ready to take Hermes's hand and enter Hades's Chasm.

I told myself that if the woman, Marcia was her name, survived twelve months from the day Sirius left, she would surely live another twelve years. With what I saw as his advanced age, I figured by that time Sirius would be long dead and I would be free from my obligation.

But like cats with mice, the gods do enjoy toying with us. Two days shy of the twelfth month of my waiting came the news I expected and dreaded: Marcia had died.

While it was a letter I hadn't wanted to receive or accept, I owed Sirius a multitude of thanks that he sent me word of the news before a messenger delivered the official notice to my father. Rather than grant Bassio the dismayed expression I'm sure he hoped to see, with Sirius's forewarning I could be calm and composed.

"I know I've caused a rift between you and your father," Sirius wrote, "and that he takes an odd pleasure in your discomfiture at marrying me. (See, I am not so old that I am blind to the obvious.) This is why I'm telling you now of Marcia's death, so you can prepare yourself before your father brings you the news. I must organize Marcia's affairs and see to it that all is settled with her family. Then I am to transfer to one of the islands off the northern coast as the Solon's aide to the governor. I will have to establish myself before bringing you into my home there. I will try to hurry and do look forward to your arrival. Plan to leave in two months' time. I hope you can grow used to me as a husband. I promise to be good to you and, even if I can't make you love me, perhaps I can earn you a bit of that status you crave."

I set the letter down and stared at the soapstone figurine which had found a home in the center of my dressing table. I can't say why I never did smash it with a rock. Certainly I was tempted to destroy it when I sunk into a morose state after my grandfather's death and again when I was in low spirits after Alerio left, but the figurine seemed an object of the gods, a reminder I might have a role to play for them, and it was up to me to play their game as best I could. Still, to show them my disapproval, I placed the little token on top of a scrap of parchment on which Papinias had sketched an olive tree (quite badly, he was no artist) on the day we'd promised ourselves to one another.

"What does Sirius have to say today?" Saltia asked as she turned my mattress. Sirius's letters and their news of the complicated world beyond Dekos had been a great curiosity and source of fascination to her.

"Marcia has died."

She halted her fluffing and stared at me. I'm sure she expected to see me collapse into a fit of tears, but this was news I'd been expecting for twelve months. It was news I'd already moped over long before the woman took her last breath. It was news I could devote no further energy toward. It was bound to happen and now it had. Didn't I seem quite the stoic compared to the girl who had toppled into the dust as her lover was pulled out of her life only a year ago?

"Oh, did she?" Saltia resumed her work on the bed that suddenly required more vigorous attention.

"Don't worry, Saltia, I've grown accustomed to the idea of marrying a man old enough to be my grandfather."

"He's not that old. An elder uncle maybe. And even if you are accustomed to it, you can't be happy about it."

"No, how could I be?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you'll be escaping this mausoleum of a house and getting away from your cold father. You'll get to see the world and perhaps even see a certain boy."

I laughed. Papinias was three years older than me and a year older than when he left. Twenty. If Sirius had allowed him to complete his final year of apprenticeship, Papinias would be a medic now. Although still young, Papi was no longer a boy.

What might he look like? Had he gotten taller? I had grown a bit, but was still a head shorter than the long-limbed Saltia. Was Papi still rail thin or had he put on muscle? I halted my questioning before thoughts of his body crept too far into my conscious.

Despite my love for him, I was angry with Papinias. Why had he not written? Surely in twelve months he could have bribed someone to carry a letter for him. And, despite being one of the party who stole Papi from me, I was certain that Sirius was not so heartless as to hide from me the news if Papinias had died.

"I don't know who you mean," I teased.

Saltia stopped her work and sat across from me. Her face matronly serious.

"I know you are to marry Sirius, but you love Papinias. Just remember that your husband is a soldier and servant to the Solon. He will not always be home. You will not always have him in your bedchamber." I stared at her, disbelieving this awkward turn in conversation. "Don't look at me that way. I hear of many women who find themselves happily married only because they keep a lover."

She was serious. When did my chaste friend become the plotter of adultery?

"That," I said slowly, "is a very odd form of marital advice." I pinched my lips, trying to hold back a smile. Saltia met my eye and that's all it took for us to burst into a fit of laughter.

## CHAPTER TEN

### _Quintus's Prophecy_

THAT AFTERNOON, MY father called me to his office. He delivered the news of Marcia's death and my imminent marriage in a mocking tone and with a gloating jut to his chin. I clenched my fists at his attitude, but held my composure as he sneered at me waiting for my reaction.

"I suppose we'll only have to endure each other a little while longer until word arrives from Sirius that I should come to him," I said pleasantly. My father hissed with irritation and commanded me to my room as if I was a troublesome child. I went to the courtyard instead and scraped my thumbnail along the rinds of a few immature oranges to release their scent that would drift into a window at the far end of courtyard: the window of my father's office.

Over the next months Sirius seemed to have a personal connection to the messenger god Hermes. It was the only explanation I could come up with for how he was able get messages across Osteria so quickly. Even from the northern islands, his news reached me before similar information was announced by officials who called out the realm's affairs in Dekos's agora each morning. In addition to its speed in reaching me, the news from Sirius was always more detailed. For the first time, I wondered if this man was more than just an errand boy for the Solon.

In his latest batch of letters, besides informing me Marcia's will was still in the hands of lawyers, Sirius gushed with enthusiasm for an old friend who had been named governor of Seattica. His name was Tenax and I had to read the line twice that stated this Tenax was a centaur. I knew a few had tamed their wild ways over the past couple decades and had proven themselves superb fighters, loyal vigiles, and well respected teachers, but I had never met one myself.

Sirius wrote that Tenax, in addition to being a high ranking vigile, was once a teacher and, during the time that Sirius served under him in the legions, Tenax helped Sirius with his writing and math – subjects he had previously struggled with since he'd been a rather lax student as a child. "I know it comes as no surprise to you that I was a lazy pupil," he wrote, "but you're probably even more amazed that, as a twenty-year-old, I sat like a child as this war veteran taught me my numbers and grammar. To realize that Tenax taught me long before you were born does make me feel incredibly old."

After Sirius had served his time under Tenax and had taken command of his own small legion, the two men had remained close friends by writing regularly. "He probably only did so to make sure I hadn't forgotten my lessons," Sirius wrote, then admitted to being proud of his old friend becoming the first centaur governor in all of Osteria. "I would very much like to visit him in Seattica after you get settled. We'll have to cast some star charts to see when would be a good time to go, but each one I cast lately comes up with a jumbled mess even though Hera is nowhere near my sign."

Tenax, although Sirius assured me he was clever and popular, hadn't achieved his new position as governor on merit alone. Trouble in the capital and beyond had laid wide the opportunity and had threatened the peace of Osteria.

Jealous of the power he'd attained, Darra set a trap for Ennis by suggesting he name his own son solon when Candus died. Fair-minded in his own rule and devoted to his family, Ennis couldn't help but want the best for his child. Unable to resist such an honor, Ennis agreed.

As soon as the ink had dried on the scroll, Darra informed Candus that Ennis was plotting to overthrow him and this urged our silly solon out of hiding. He rode into Portaceae with a group of hand-selected guards and ordered Ennis be arrested and brought immediately to trial – a trial on which Candus sat as judge and jury. In less than an hour after his arrest, Ennis, his wife, and his son were declared guilty of treason and lashed to three of the executioner's rings that lined the Traitor's Way.

The modicum of stability Portaceae had under Ennis's care gave way to political upheavals throughout Osteria, including Seattica whose governor had one of Osteria's largest legions at his command. Soon after Ennis had been lashed to the rings, it was discovered the governor had been preparing to send out his legion to support Ennis as Solon. Candus's swift justice had the governor's head rolling into a basket before Ennis took his last breath.

When Candus was considering who should replace the governor, Tenax played the political game wisely by only offering neutral responses when asked anything about the solonship. His shrewd answers and reputation for loyalty earned him the governorship of Seattica.

Although Tenax settled Seattica's mutinous rumblings, other areas of Osteria were not so easily swayed and refused to obey a solon who showed no respect for the goddess Athena's system of justice, the system of justice and law that all of Osteria had adopted. This rule of law declared it illegal for any man, the Solon included, to preside as judge and serve as jury at the same trial. Thanks to Darra's scheming and Candus's haste to be rid of Ennis, the realm now teetered on the precipice of civil war.

Disliking the terse mood of the capital, Candus soon hurried back to his retreat to fill his days with fighting, drinking, and gaming rather than ruling. Darra remained in Portaceae City, even residing in the Solonian Palace, and used her time to fill her purse by selling off positions of power such as consul seats, command of the vigiles, and magisterial appointments to the highest bidder. Throughout the turmoil, Tenax's position as governor remained without threat because he had instantly garnered respect from his people and because his cool demeanor kept him from the hotbed of the worst of Osterian politics.

As Sirius sorted out Marcia's affairs over the weeks following her death, the legions of Vancuse and Demos revolted, refusing to serve an Osteria ruled by Candus. Demos putting down arms opened Osteria up to two problems: the Middish tribes to Demos's east and the Areans to their south. The Areans may now be Osterian, but they still retained their warlike ways and wouldn't hesitate to lay claim to the grain-growing region of Demos. After all, it's said that whoever controls the grain, controls Osteria.

Luckily, the Areans felt the same as the Demosians: They too wanted Candus gone, either dead or ousted. The Arean and Demosian governors banded together and in little time had come up with a list of commanders who they'd like to see replace Candus. Albinus, Rigen, and Tenax were among those named.

In his following letter, Sirius, who otherwise seemed unfazed by all the mess, wrote saying that although Marcia's affairs were settled and his new position secured, it might be best to delay my leaving for safer times.

In all the time Sirius had been writing me, I had never written back, but after reading this message I scratched out a hasty note informing him I would not stay in my father's house a moment longer than I had to and that if this marriage was ordained by the gods, I would surely reach him in safety regardless of the bickering amongst the legions and the Solon.

He replied by sending a group of guards with a short letter.

"Here are your traveling companions. Have a Seeing done and star chart cast for the optimal day to leave. Pay heed to any omens."

I smiled at his superstitious concern for me. A knot formed in my stomach at the inevitability of our marriage, but I could not live with Bassio's cold glares any longer. It struck me as odd that, had this not all come about as it did, I would now have been married to Papinias for a year. I sighed and my throat caught at the thought of him. I told myself it was foolish to dwell on him; doing so would only make it harder to accept my fate with Sirius. Besides, my former lover had obviously abandoned all thoughts of me.

Like Sirius, I too was having trouble getting concrete answers from the stars and the runes they were supposed to influence. Although tempted to try my hand once more to determine the safest time to travel, such a matter was too risky to trust to a faulty reading. I needed the gods' insight, so I did as Sirius asked and went to my grandfather's old house where the new oracle, Quintus, had set up his business. He beamed when he opened the door.

"Sofia, I'm so glad to see you." He ushered me into the same room my grandfather used to work from. Although Quintus had brightened the room by pulling back the heavy window coverings and filling the walls with his own sketches of Bendria, the room still carried the earthy scent of the spruce incense my grandfather used. My heart ached as I inhaled.

"Could we do this in the courtyard? This room is too full of memories."

"Of course, what a fool I must be." He gathered up some papers and we went to the rear courtyard where a gentle breeze rustled through the jasmine vines. I hadn't scented my hair with jasmine oil since Papinias had left. Who would I have done it for? Unexpectedly, I found myself wondering if Sirius would like the scent.

"You received my note?" I asked as Quintus and I sat on benches lined with large blue cushions that brought out the orange tones in his red hair. He spread the papers before me.

"Yes, and have determined three days from now is the most auspicious day for your travels to begin."

"So soon?"

"You'll have to pack quickly. I see trouble on the road if you don't leave by this morning here." He pointed to a box on the calendar he'd drawn up. "Now, I know you didn't ask for it, but I've also looked into other aspects of your future."

"Please, Quintus, it's not necessary." I was curious, but couldn't bear the disappointment if he'd seen that Sirius would remain as complacent and unambitious as I assumed him to be.

"It's already done, so listen. I remember you and Papinias from when I came to Bendria to study under your grandfather. Such happy children together and you would have had a happy adulthood with him, but it did not turn out that way."

"So how will it turn out?" I asked teasingly.

"I can't tell you every exact step you'll take, but the gods have plans for you. With Sirius you will have an illustrious life, but it's not going to fall into your lap and there will be tragedy. You may have struggle and hard times, but you will be a very powerful woman if you stay true. And I see from that glint in your eye that this appeals to you."

"If I can't be happy–" I shrugged.

"Don't worry." He patted my hand. "You will face some tough choices, but the gods do tell me in the end you'll find yourself with the man you love, it will be a long road and at first you may not even realize you're on that road, but you will get to him."

"To Papinias?"

Just then a servant came in with a tray of sliced apples, white cheese, and golden wine. After thanking him, Quintus continued to speak, but never answered my question.

"Your father is wrong to not let you take charge of the temple." He chuckled. "What am I saying? Before this mess with Sirius you practically were in charge of the temple. Your grandfather boasted of it in letters to me. Of people coming to you, a little girl, for advice more often than they did Bassio. You are the child of a god and a natural leader. You have found and always will find ways to better yourself."

I sat up taller with a burst of pride at learning what my grandfather had told this man. I have to admit to feeling quite low these past months, so it was good to hear I wasn't the only one who saw my future included wielding power and earning respect. Even the gods spoke to Quintus of people revering me and it was a relief to know those gods intended more for me than just being a wife.

"Will I always love Papinias?" I asked, trying to steer the oracle back to the long road to love he mentioned.

"In your own way," he said cautiously. "Your feelings will be confused for a time. You will both hurt one another in different ways. You will want to love him as you once did, but love, like everything, changes. You may find your love is not the same as it is now." I balked at the thought of ever loving Papi with less than the most intense passion. "But you must make room for Sirius, even a tiny space in your mind if not your heart. Love will always be at your side, Sofia, but power must be taken and held tight when the opportunity arises. Love will wait, power won't."

He refused to add anything further and indicated the platter before us. I enjoyed the snacks Quintus provided but left his home with more questions than I had when I entered. Even after a lifetime of growing up next to an oracle, I still found their predictions annoyingly vague.

* * *

Over the next couple days, my rooms filled with a torrent of activity as I organized what to take and what to leave behind. Slaves bundled the to-take items into cases. Dresses, tunics, sandals, and less valuable jewelry went into one trunk. The more valuable jewelry from my mother would stay on me, hidden in a purse under my tunic. Another case bulged with my own copies of Alerio's work; star charts; ingredients for the potions (or were they medicines, I wondered) I'd been experimenting with; and my favorite books on philosophy, history, and science. It pained me to leave behind the rest of my collection, but there simply weren't enough boxes to contain them all. I knew my father would never pay to send them to me, so, as I had done with Papinias's books, I gave the tomes to Quintus who was starting a library for Bendrians to borrow from. He promised I could have them back any time I wanted, but I doubted I would ever return to retrieve them.

Saltia, I was glad to learn, was my wedding present from my father and she wanted to come with me. With all the frenzy of preparing to travel in such a short time, there wasn't a spare moment left to get to the Bendrian governor to apply for her manumission, but I swore to her I would do so as soon as we had settled in our new home.

On the morning of the second day after meeting with Quintus, my rooms looked little better than the poorest slave's hovel with no décor and little comfort. Saltia dressed me, did my hair, and applied the light touches of make up I wore. Throughout these attentions, I felt as if I was still asleep and moving through an odd dream. I was leaving home. I was to be married to a stranger. I was stepping into an uncertain future where I had always had my future carefully mapped out. Before leaving my room for the final time, I wrapped Sirius's figurine in Papinias's drawing and dropped it in my travel bag.

Waiting in the courtyard, I tried to eat a small biscuit. After a few bites my stomach gurgled with nerves and I put my meager breakfast back on the tray. I checked over the orange tree. It was now thriving with new growth, but I noticed the fruit had all been removed. As he had done every time the tree had borne fruit over the past year, Bassio had cut the little orbs off just as they began to ripen to keep from having to smell them. I wondered bitterly if the man could let anything vibrant and sweet grow to maturity.

The sound of men's heavy steps on the tiled floor of the foyer stirred me away from these unkind thoughts and sent a jolt from my heart to my toes. They were here to take me away. My eyes stung with emotion as I gave a last glance at my home's lush retreat before turning to go to the foyer.

When I rounded the corner to the entryway, I nearly ran into my father who stood facing me with his back turned to Saltia and a group of vigiles. For the briefest moment my heart leapt like a trout from a pond. He was blocking them. He had changed his mind and wouldn't permit me to go. Maybe this had all been a test of my devotion to Bendria and to Papi and I would be allowed to marry Papinias this very day then take my place as priestess the next morning.

But when I met Bassio's harsh eyes, my hopeful fantasy fluttered away.

A tearful goodbye was not in store for us. He stuck out his hand, not to take me in his arms, not even to shake my own hand, but to pass me a small pouch. The coins inside clinked as he dropped it into my palm.

"Don't shame me. You've already done that enough for one lifetime."

This was all he said. No _Goodbye_ , no _I'll miss you_ , no _Safe journey_. It was as if I had never been his daughter, as if I were nothing more than a tenant finishing up my lease, as if he had never guided my little hands when I first wrote my letters on a wax tablet, as if we never chanted prayers to the gods together. His stubborn grudge against my mother, a few words from those Grey Sisters (who I heard were the subjects of some strange rumors), and my love for Papinias had turned me into nothing but a burr in Bassio's sandal.

Knowing I would spit words of anger at him, I made no reply. I would not demean myself. Bowing so low to the ground I was almost kneeling, I gave him the respect he was owed as the head of my household and my high priest with this formal gesture.

I waited for the touch on my shoulder to signal he accepted my fealty, that he recognized my honoring him even though he deserved none, but it never came. I watched his sandaled feet step aside to be replaced by the booted feet of ten vigiles. I rose and refused to face Bassio.

Instead, I locked eyes with a triangular-faced man who appeared to be heading up my entourage. He wore a plain breastplate and an apron of protective metal over his cream-colored tunic.

"Domna," he said in way that conveyed both a greeting and a question of whether or not I was ready. I nodded. He returned the gesture then turned on his heel and told the men to move out.

With the group of vigiles and Saltia at my side, I stepped out the door into a brilliant red dawn, nervous and heart weary, but ready for a new life beyond the walls of my father's disapproval.

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

### _To Dallos_

ALTHOUGH I WAS escorted by ten vigiles in top form, my procession wasn't as grand as I'd envisioned. In my imaginings over the past few months, I had seen myself as a legendary daughter of a noble Osterian family, abandoned by her father but yet still proud and loved by her people. In my visions, I'd be sitting high on my horse leading out a band of protective men who rode behind me with awe and respect and who were ready to die to protect me.

Instead, my small horse and Saltia's pony were trapped in the midst of the larger war horses, unable to see or be seen. I did hear a few people call my name, but since they couldn't see me waving back from behind the throng of vigiles, the cries of support quickly lost their enthusiasm. When we made it to the city walls the men finally spaced themselves out, but by then everyone had gone back to their daily routine. When I looked back, only Quintus – easily visible with his beacon of red hair – and Kolos remained at the city gate waving us farewell.

There was also no awe or dazzled respect to be had from my guards. In fact, I received little attention from them altogether. The men seemed as aware of my presence as they would be of a friendly dog who'd attached itself to their retinue. As if Saltia and I weren't there, they didn't hesitate to boast about humanly impossible feats in battles, nor to crack rude jokes. Once I got over my initial surprise, I laughed along with them and at myself for my silly expectations.

However, one of the guards, the triangluar-faced one who seemed in charge of the men but not their commander, rode by my side most of that first day. He looked to be in his early twenties, his black hair was cut short in the traditional vigile crop, and he had large bright green eyes with a jewel-like appearance thanks to their flecks of gold and copper. After introducing himself as Macrinus, he explained to me our travel plans.

One option to get from Dekos to Portaceae (from where we would catch a ship to the northern islands) was to ride west to the port in Eugenia, the southernmost town in the Illamos Valley polis, and then catch a boat up the Illamos River to our realm's capital. But this route would have required journeying over steep mountain passes. Besides bandits and the risk of an early snow storm, with the current political turmoil there was too much danger of ambush from someone who might mistake our party for the Solon's men to risk going that way.

Instead we were riding through Bendria and a hundred Osterian miles north to the port of Dallos – a riverside town situated on the eastern border of Cedonia. Dallos was known for its fleet of sailing ships that regularly taxied people to Portaceae by taking advantage of the almost perpetual winds in the wide gorge cut by the Col River.

At home, I'd always believed myself skilled at horseback riding, but nothing had prepared me for such long days in the saddle. It took only a single day of riding to leave me aching from my toes to my shoulders. A litter could have been rented from many of the towns we passed, but I refused to travel in one. First, as my grandfather would attest, I was vain and did not want to appear weak in front of anyone. Second, I had no desire to slow the journey by having the men cart me about in a den of cushions. But most importantly, this was the first time I'd seen any part of Osteria beyond Bendria and I wanted to take in every tree, every hill, and every field, all of which marveled me enough to endure the agony of saddle sores and screaming muscles.

We arrived in Dallos the evening of our fourth day of travel. Since we wouldn't be able to set sail until mid-morning when the winds picked up, we had to stay the night in town. After Macrinus asked around, he found a place with a few rooms to spare.

Saltia and I soon found ourselves squeezing our way down a piss-soaked alley and crammed into a shabby room wedged into the upper story of a rowdy tavern. Two of my guards remained outside the door, not to imprison us, but to protect us from any of the drunken guests below who might wander in and mistake us for the women who occasionally turned their trade in these upstairs chambers.

The room smelled of stale wine and the mattress made my skin itch, but I was too tired and too glad to have a real bed to sleep in to care about what had happened in that bed in the hour before my arrival. I was asleep only moments after crawling under the thin blanket.

The next morning I woke to such utter confusion I thought I'd lost my mind. Why was my room so drab? Why were the slaves making so much noise? It was only after Saltia answered a knock at the door and I heard a man say we needed to leave within the hour, that I recalled I was miles away from my sprawling bedchamber in Dekos and realized the noise was the tavern below starting its day.

My stomach roared with hunger. In the exhaustion of the night before I hadn't bothered to eat and my body demanded to be refueled after the previous days' exertions. Plus, after several days of stale bread and dried meat, I yearned for something moist and fresh. Despite my demanding belly and the rich scent of food wafting up from the kitchens, I took the time to wash myself using a basin of water and cloth Saltia brought up. She had to fetch several more jugs for both of us as the water kept turning red-brown from the dirt we'd collected on our skin over the past few days. It wasn't the same as dipping into a bath, but by the final rinse, we both felt refreshed and presentable.

Just as in Dekos, the tavern in Dallos had a counter with holes cut in it for pots of stew, cooked grains, and bowls of other treats. I opted for a mound of fruit with a huge dollop of yogurt, a pile of marinated broad beans and olives of assorted colors, and four rounds of soft flat bread smeared with creamy goat cheese and honey. I ate without pause as if I'd never tasted food before.

My guards, who nibbled on single pieces of plain flatbread like toothless old women, shook their heads at me.

"You aren't going to want all that food on your stomach once we hit the water," said Macrinus.

"Why?" I'd never been on a river voyage beyond short trips on little barges during festivals or on small row boats to play on the lakes near Dekos. I'd read about seasickness in Alerio's book, but had experienced nothing to make me understand how the motion of a boat affected some people.

"Oh, you'll see." He clutched his belly and mimicked heaving.

"I won't be sick," I said assuredly and crammed the final olive into my mouth. In truth, I hadn't give it much thought and now worried I'd make a fool of myself on board the boat. I cursed my appetite and tried to remember what Alerio would recommend. My box of books would have already been loaded onto our ship, so I scanned my memory for what he'd written on nausea and indigestion. Recalling a drawing of a plant I'd made for the book, I went back to the counter and asked the burly innkeeper if the tavern made one of my favorite dishes: a grain-and-tomato salad flavored with chopped mint leaves.

"We do, but none's ready yet. Perhaps more bread for the lady," the innkeeper said and grinned as the men laughed at my stubborn gluttony.

"But do you have the mint here for it?"

"Purchased some yesterday."

"Could I buy a few sprigs?"

Although full of amused skepticism, the innkeeper wasn't about to refuse receiving double what he'd paid for the herb. Once my drachars were in his hand, he gave me a cluster of square-stemmed spearmint. I wrapped it in a piece of moist cloth and stuck the parcel in my bag.

"Poseidon'll want more than a few leaves as an offering for a safe journey," said one of the vigiles and the others laughed along with him. At least I was good entertainment for these men.

In little time, the east winds had picked up and we made our way to board the day's first ship that was sailing to Portaceae. Saltia, who had never set foot on a boat before, clung to me, her eyes darting about in nervous fascination as we started down the swaying dock to the waiting vessel. When I lifted a foot to step from the dock to the bobbing bow of the boat, Saltia muttered, "I can't do this." She pinched her eyes shut to avoid looking down at the water. Her frantic grip tugged me toward the left edge of the narrow walkway.

"If you pull me into the river with your fretting, you won't have to. I'll leave you behind."

She eased her grip on my arm and I gave her a gentle shove to goad her onto the vessel. Once on board, we stepped aside to peer over the side of the ship where oars dangled lazily in the water. We'd be sailing most of the way, but the oars were needed to pull us out of the harbor and into position on the river. They would also propel the boat if the winds refused to cooperate.

Water slapped the side of the ship that lurched as a mountain of cargo was loaded. Saltia immediately cringed and stepped back. "I need to sit in the middle. I'm not rolling into the water if this thing tips over."

Although I would have liked her company, I told her go find a secure spot. She hunched down and scrambled awkwardly to a central bench. In her haste, she collided with one of my guards, a blonde man who had long limbs like Saltia. He laughed at her discomfort and extended his hand in introduction, but she was clutching the bench too tightly to do anything but nod a greeting.

I had learned this was one of two daily sailings that used the river and its gusting winds to move people from the poli in the east to those in the west. It would be no private pleasure cruise. Numerous vigiles transferring to new legions, magistrates and governors journeying to the capital, and several merchants traveling with their wares filled the deck and claimed what appeared to be favorite spots. I didn't mind the crowd, but their chatter annoyed me since I had pictured myself relaxing to the peaceful sound of the water as I admired the passing scenery.

I was learning a lot about taming my expectations and my imagination on this journey.

Finally, the docking ropes were released and a shout came from below decks. From the side, the row of oars snapped out straight. With another bellow, the oars arced forward in synchrony and dipped into the water. We curved out of the harbor and set off for Portaceae, the city where I had once expected to run away with Papinias. From what I understood, we would arrive there in time to catch a grain ship that would be docked in Portaceae to unload some of its grain and pick up other cargo. This larger boat would then take us to the western end of the Col River and into the Western Sea to plow its way north to one of the islands off the Seattican shores and to my future.

## CHAPTER TWELVE

### _The Ally_

ALTHOUGH THE WEATHER was warm and sunny, gusts slammed into the narrow-hulled sailing ship as it was rowed into position. Before the oars were pulled in, we were temporarily broadside to the current and the boat lurched as it caught each one of the river's wind-whipped undulations.

I had just spied a doe coming to the river's far bank to get a drink of water when Macrinus rushed up to the side of the ship, nearly barreling into me in his haste. Thankfully, he was downwind of me as he clutched his gut and heaved over the side. It splattered into one of the oars, but the next stroke washed the mess away. Still gripping the railing, he hung his head between his arms trying to recover. I dug into my satchel and handed him a few of the mint leaves. He looked at them and turned a paler shade of green.

"I can't eat."

"Just chew the leaves and swallow your saliva. It'll help." His eyes rolled drunkenly in his head as if they were trying to move in time with the oars but couldn't quite keep rhythm. "And it certainly can't hurt."

He chewed the mint slowly, grimacing with every twitch of his jaw. The boat finally shifted in line with the current, the oars were pulled in, and the sails snapped into action, allowing the vessel to ply its way westward more smoothly. Macrinus eventually swallowed and slumped down to sit, leaning against the side of the boat. Although he was naturally paler than me, his sickly pallor did improve a spot at a time until he finally turned a shade more human than lichen. Having little else to do, I sat down next to him.

"Thank you. I've never done well on ships or in the water. I don't even like the deeper areas of the baths. If you don't mind, I'm going to sit here a while. I don't think I can stand yet, but I'd appreciate it if you stay with me, distract me from this–" he made an undulating motion with his hand.

Call me foolish, but my eyes stung with emotion at his wanting my company. I had been lonely the past year, especially after my grandfather died and Alerio departed. Saltia and Quintus had been friendly, but they were often busy, leaving me too much time for myself. I hadn't realized how much I missed simply chatting with someone until that very moment with Macrinus. I suppose I was ridiculous, or maybe just in need of attention. I began my work of distraction by asking him about himself.

"I'm a lawyer, actually. Born and raised in Portaceae."

"Then why are you in the vigiles? Not enough lawsuits in Portaceae to keep you busy?"

"There's work, of course; lawyers always have clients, but all the best cases go to Athenos now that the High Court has been established there. As the new system stands, with my legal training, if I can move up in the vigile ranks, I should be able to secure a position in the Portacean government. So, I've strapped my hob-nails back on and am putting in my time, but I still tend to smaller cases in the capital when I'm needed."

I was curious to learn more about the Portacean political and legal system and to hear insights into how this small Osterian city had taken the other regions of Osteria under its wing to create the realm that now spread from Vancuse in the north to the Eugenia district in the south, from the Tillaceae and Astoria poli on the Western Sea all the way over to the eastern canyon of the Styx River that led to the Chasm where the dead resided with Hades.

"Do you think Osteria will go to war with itself?" I asked, thinking of Sirius's letters.

Macrinus shrugged. "Some would say we already are. Too many people want the poli to be independent from Portaceae, to decide their own political system, and to rule their territory from one of their own cities rather than reporting to Portaceae."

"You sound like you favor this idea."

"Not as it's being proposed with each polis completely independent of each other. I think it would work if we were all still Osterian with a basic set of laws that guided us, but with each polis defining their own ways of doing things."

Splitting from Portaceae was a recurring debate. Even as more poli – Bendria being the most recent – joined into the realm of Osteria under Portacean rule, others complained that it was inefficient for one city to rule over such a vast realm. There were plusses and minuses to both sides, and Macrinus and I debated them until I forgot about my woes and he forgot about his belly. Still, with talk of politics, our conversation eventually found its way to Sirius.

"You've really only known him for two days?" Macrinus asked with surprise after I told him of how I'd been betrothed.

"And that over a year ago."

"I wouldn't be able to wait that long for you." His emerald eyes widened at this admission as if it had fallen from his mouth without any control. "I mean, it's just you're quite pretty and smart and– I'm sorry. You'd think a lawyer would have more control over his tongue." A blush filled my cheeks as he glanced over at me through his thick eyelashes. "I should go." He made to stand just as the boat crested over a swell and he tottered back. I steadied him, trying not to think about the strong, taut body under the tunic. He patted my hand to assure me he was alright and eased back down next to me.

"Why don't you tell me about Sirius," I said with forced lightness as if my heart wasn't pounding the blood through my ears. I chided myself. I was betrothed. I could not have a girlish crush on a vigile. "That should be a topic to clear both our heads."

He laughed at the comment. We relaxed and I sensed a change between us. The attraction we both had toward each other was obvious, but there was no point in it. I was to be married and he would likely be sent to his next station as soon as he'd delivered me to Sirius. But we would be friends on this voyage and I was thankful for that.

"He's not a bad man. You could do a hundred times worse. And, I'm sure you think a hundred times better, but Sirius is well-respected, his family has many connections, his men trust him, and he typically has a sensible head about him."

"Typically?"

"There's a man. His cousin, Plautinius."

"Ah, yes, the Hawk." Macrinus looked at me with amusement in his warm eyes.

"We call him that too, not to his face, of course, but that nose and those calculating eyes make you feel like a piece of prey when he stares at you. Sirius would do better without him. The Hawk is power hungry and would do anything to be more than he is."

"Which is?"

"No one's certain. Some say advisor, others say a hanger-on, a collector of spoils. I think he's waiting for Sirius to succeed or to falter, whichever comes first."

"Why not just forge his own career?"

Macrinus shook his head. "It doesn't work that way with some of the older Seattican families. The eldest is the one who's given the first chance at advancement while younger siblings and cousins must wait for appointments under him."

"That only makes sense. The eldest son usually gets the best on offer."

"True, but things get complicated in the Verus family because Plautinius's father was four years older than Sirius's, so Plautinius feels his branch of the family should have the right to any advancement before Sirius does."

"And why doesn't he have that right?"

"Plautinius's father died when the boys were in their teens. This legally made Sirius's father the eldest and so Sirius is the one to advance. It's all a mess really and, according to tradition, whatever position Sirius attains goes to Plautinius when Sirius dies. Plautinius has a better head for politics than Sirius, or at least the manipulative side of politics, but up until recently Portacean politics have been less about scheming – the Hawk's area of expertise – and more about making friends and earning respect – Sirius's specialty. That ability will allow him to rise higher and gain more in this new Osteria. And if Sirius were to gain a favorable enough position–"

"Do you think the Hawk would kill Sirius to claim that position?" I asked half in jest.

"A couple years ago, I'd have said no. Now, with so many plays for power going on in the capital and alliances shifting by the month, it's hard to say what anyone would do. Whether he would or not, when things are going well for Sirius, Plautinius is there to reap the benefits. When something goes wrong, the Hawk is flying off on business elsewhere. This is a man who needs Sirius to move up in power and position. If Plautinius doesn't like someone, if he thinks they serve no purpose, or if he thinks they've done something to tarnish the family's honor, that person doesn't stick around long."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me." The memory of the Hawk looming over Papi and me in the hallway, witnessing our kiss, sent a shiver racing through me.

"He can't even know you."

"Does Plautinius seem like the type who forms opinions slowly?"

"No, but stay in Sirius's good graces and you'll have no complaint from him. Perhaps with your wiser hand to guide him he'll do what everyone has been advising and distance himself from Plautinius, maybe even strip the inheritance clause. Be a loyal and steady wife, bear him a son or two, and there's no way you won't worm your way into his heart."

"You're the second person to give me marital advice." I indicated Saltia who had seemed to have forgotten her nerves and was flirting with the blonde guard she'd tumbled into earlier. "First my maid tells me finding a lover is the only way to stay happy in a marriage to such an old man. Now you tell me to be faithful. What is a girl to do?" I said this jokingly, but Macrinus fixed such a serious expression on me, the smile on my lips dropped like an anchor.

"Whatever you do in your marriage, Domna, do not have an affair. Although I'd be the first to volunteer to help you take your maid's advice, you can't do anything to put yourself out of favor with your husband. If Plautinius has already taken a disliking to you, he'll be seeking out any excuse to turn Sirius against you. And it won't just be a divorce that the Hawk will advise. You must guard yourself. There are rumors that Marcia's illness was not sent from the gods, but from the hand of the Hawk. They are only rumors though and I can't see any reason why the Hawk would care who Sirius is married to."

Unless he'd heard a prophecy about a woman who might bring Sirius to power. This unnerving thought and Macrinus's worried tone set my fears alight. Not for myself, not entirely. I was too young to imagine myself in any real danger, but Plautinius had caught Papinias and I in that hallway. Papi was then ripped from my life. Papi hadn't written me. Why hadn't he written? Why had he not sent even the tiniest scrap of a note? I swallowed hard, pushing down the questions that I couldn't ask aloud.

"I understand," I said. "Plautinius would find a way to make Sirius look like a fool for my indiscretion. I would have to be dealt with."

"You learned quite a lot about Sirius and the Hawk in those two days." He paused and in the hesitation I sensed he had more to say.

"What is it?" His brow furrowed with an unspoken question. "I've been reading people's moods since I could walk; I can tell you're holding something back."

"Not exactly holding back. It's just that I fear giving you what I carry. It's from an old friend of yours and a dear friend of mine."

"Papinias?" I blurted so excitedly that several heads jerked up and stared in our direction. Even Saltia glanced up from the attention of her guard. I ducked my head down guiltily and lowered my voice to a whisper. "How do you know Papinias?"

"We're both in Sirius's service. We became friends and he told me everything about you and what had happened to your plans. When he found out I was assigned to escort you, he wrote you a letter, but I'm afraid to give it you."

"Why? What have they done to him?"

"Nothing. No, not nothing, they– You loved him didn't you?"

I looked around to see that everyone had gone back to their own gaming, drinking, and flirting.

"I still do. I shouldn't, I know, but it's hard to break the habit. Still, he can't care for me any longer if he hasn't even bothered to write for over a year."

"You must try to forget you love him. For the safety of you both. Do you promise me that?"

"I'd be more likely to forget my own name."

"Then at least promise me you'll behave as a wife whose life depends on her fidelity," he said with such seriousness that I worried he might have a clearer insight into my future than my grandfather or Quintus ever had. I checked his hair for any hint of red, but even in the bright sunlight it showed only black.

"And in return for my promise?"

"I will guard you with my life for as long as we live. You may need that kind of help if the Hawk has already gotten you in his sights."

I pondered for a moment. This man had gone from making fun me to gossiping with me, and was now pledging his life to my service. This was no joking matter. I realized I may indeed need his help and sensed I might need every ally against Plautinius I could find.

"I promise," I said solemnly

From the pad of paper I'd seen him sketching on in the evenings, Macrinus slipped a tightly folded letter. He made to hand it over to me, but snatched it back before I could take it.

"You also have to promise to stay here as you read it."

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"One, I like your company. Two, you have a wise head, but I worry that after reading this you'll do yourself harm and toss yourself overboard. Personally, I don't want to have to jump in to save you. I'm a terrible swimmer and I'd hate to fail at my promise to protect you when the promise is only a few heartbeats old." He smiled, but it was a cautious one showing he was both jesting and serious at the same time.

"I'll stay. Now, please, Macrinus." I held out my palm, my fingers beckoning him to hand over the letter.

"One more promise." This time all seriousness had vanished and a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

"You're really pressing your luck, I could snatch that letter and dash away. I've seen your sea legs and it's not as if you could chase after me." He pleaded with his wide, bright eyes like a puppy begging for scraps. "Alright, what is it?"

His lips twitched up into an infectious grin. It may be pointless, but I did enjoy the game of flirting we were playing.

"Many, many years from now when Sirius dies a very, very old man, promise me I'll be the man who receives your first kiss as a free woman."

The idea of Macrinus being in my life that long was like a blanket of security being draped over my shoulders. And the thought of kissing him–

I glanced away from his intense gaze, giving myself a moment to shake the tempting image from my head. I was betrothed to a man with a dangerous cousin. I could not complicate my world any further by thinking of Macrinus as anything more than a friend. I met his eyes, challenging him and showing him he couldn't fluster me.

"You'll still be guarding me then?"

"Always."

"I could be old and ugly by the time Sirius dies."

"I'll take my chances."

I couldn't keep from laughing at his ability to rise to my bait.

"Fine, I swear it. Now give me this horrid letter that has cost me three promises."

He handed it over. All relaxation disappeared from his lean body. He was tensed and ready to react as he watched me break the unadorned wax seal. My heart leapt at the sight of Papi's familiar, tidy handwriting. His eyes boring into me, I glanced up at Macrinus for reassurance. He gave a little nod and I began to read.

The contents were indeed horrid.

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

### _The Letter_

_MY DEAREST SOFIA,_

_You must hate me by now. I've written page after page of words to you, but Plautinius always finds them, or men in his service who I think are my friends deliver the letters to him. I feel my hands are tied tighter than those of any slave. But I believe Macrinus is a true friend, although I fear a bit too handsome and that one look into those eyes that drive all the women mad – even the old ones who shouldn't care about such things – will make you forget me. Or perhaps you already have. If you haven't you will wish you had after you read this. There's no easy way to say this so I'll be out with it._

_I'm married._

_Like you, it wasn't by my choice. After three months in Portaceae, Plautinius discovered letters in which I lamented about stealing you away and escaping from the world. You'll laugh, but I sometimes dreamt of us walling ourselves into the olive grove of Dekos. Calling me a troublemaker, he convinced Sirius the only way to contain me was to force me into a marriage. Legally this can't be done to Osterians with full citizenship, but since I'm a Bendrian I won't be considered a true citizen for another couple years, so the contract they've made for my arranged marriage is binding._

_The Hawk is beyond clever. If I didn't despise him so much, I would admire the way his devious mind works. The contract required I marry a relative of the Solon. The relative had to be distant enough that no child we might make would ever inherit the solonship, but close enough that if I strayed or abandoned her it could be declared treason. _

_She is a plain woman with straight, chestnut hair that could be pretty if she bothered to do anything with it. Although she's not gone to fat, she has the large structure of someone with the potential for it. I suppose I look for faults because I worry one day she won't be able to make it out the door of our house if she continues to eat and drink at the rate she does (she has an endless craving for honey cakes and beer). _

_I don't love her, Sofia. I swear it on Hera's toes. Had she any redeeming qualities, I could settle into a life with her, but I cannot admire her. Although she can, she won't read. Although she complains of boredom, she doesn't take any interest in going out walking or riding with me or in taking up any productive hobbies. Although she gripes about our servants' inefficiency (and that I won't keep slaves), she can't be bothered with any of the household organizing. Besides her honey cakes and beer, her only pastime is playing cards and she loses more often than not which strains our finances. I try to share her bed as little as I can get away with, but she is lusty when she's in her cups and I must accommodate her desires so she can't have anything to complain about to the Solon._

_I try to tell myself that you and I can be no more than friends, but my eyes are starving to see you. I don't know what you'll think of me on reading this, but I didn't seek out this marriage, just as you didn't seek out yours. Your stars that you put so much faith in have been most cruel to us. However, from getting to know Sirius and learning his character, I believe you will be much happier in your marriage than I could ever hope to be in mine. _

_I think of you. I miss you. I love you._

_Always yours,_

_Papinias_

_P.S. I'm afraid in my longing for you I couldn't stop myself and have told Macrinus all about you and your beauty. I think he's fallen in love with you from my words alone. He vows he will get you to kiss him even if it's just a peck on the cheek. Don't say I didn't warn you. _

I didn't move for what felt like hours. The words of the letter washed over me like water does when the skin is covered in oil. My hands trembled, but my mind remained blank waiting for the numbing oil to rinse off and the words to absorb into me. I could feel Macrinus stealing glances at me under his long lashes, waiting for me to react, but he stayed silent and I was grateful for that. Drop by drop the news seeped in.

Papinias was married.

And not to me.

It seemed impossible. More impossible than my heading from one end of Osteria to the other to marry Sirius. At least that concept had burrowed into a small spot in my mind over the past year, but I couldn't find room in there to hold onto the idea that Papinias had a wife. All thanks to the Hawk's scheming. I liked to think Sirius, left to his own devices, would simply have hoped I would forget Papinias and become happy in our marriage. Only Plautinius could be so cruel as to force this on Papi. The thought that my lover had bedded this woman crawled along my flesh like an ant you can't seem to swat away.

"Is she pretty?" were my first words. Macrinus belted out a hearty laugh.

"You silly, vain little thing." He patted my hand and I didn't mind when he let it linger a moment before pulling it away. "No, Domna. She's not ugly, but Papinias's words are true. Her dull mind gives her a dull countenance that only lights up at the sight of those honey cakes he mentions. He doesn't love her, but he is kind to her, he tries his best to be a companion to her, and he is a decent husband for all his not wanting to be one. He doesn't criticize, and does try to encourage her to improve herself. Unfortunately, she has no ambition for herself and is a poor match for him."

"And who would she be a good match for?" I felt petty but couldn't put a stopper on the jealousy pouring through my veins. At the mention of this woman having no ambition, I wondered if Sirius might not be a better partner for her.

Macrinus looked to the sky as if trying to remember something. Then he began slowly nodding his head as if he'd found the answer.

"I once heard rumors of a dimwitted troll who roamed Cedonia. He might do."

Despite the pain in my heart I laughed. It felt good, but I also knew the tears would come when I was alone with my thoughts that night.

As they had done throughout our voyage, Saltia slept next me, and Macrinus rested not more than two paces from where we placed our blankets. Their presence, the idea that I had two true friends in this vast realm didn't exactly push the heartache over Papinias away, nor did it stop my tears, but it did keep me from wallowing in as deep a well of self-pity I might have dug for myself had I been alone.

## CHAPTER FOURTEEN

### _Slow Burn_

WE SWITCHED SHIPS in Portaceae. I couldn't believe I'd reached the center of Osteria's government, the very heart of the realm itself. I longed to explore the city, but the Demosian grain ship we were transferring to was leaving only an hour after our arrival and I would barely have time to eat a hot meal before heading out again. Macrinus teased me that they had planned it this way so I couldn't load my boxes down with any more books.

As with the transport boats between Dallos and Portaceae, this bulky grain ship was a popular means of transportation to get from Portaceae to Astoria and onto Seattica. Although slow, it was far cheaper than a swifter vessel and the deck swarmed with bargain-seeking passengers. Staking my claim before I was forced into a less desirable spot, I positioned myself near the bow and one of the shipmen advised me where best to settle to be out of the way of the rigging and the crew.

Compared to the sprightly ship from Dallos whose sails caught the wind and whipped us up the Col River, the grain ship was like crawling onto a tortoise. Built to be sturdy in even the harshest weather, the craft would be ideal for Macrinus's poor sense of the sea, but it would chug a slow pace from Portaceae to Seattica. There, we would transfer to a ferry that would whisk us through a gauntlet of smaller islands in the Sea of Fucas, then continue north to the small island of Orkos on which Sirius was currently stationed.

The grain ship would never be one of those gauntlet runners; it couldn't even get itself out of harbor and had to be pulled by smaller barges that moved aside once the grain ship's sails were up. On the Dallos boat, when the wind was up we moved with thrilling speed, but even with a steady east wind, the grain ship plodded westward along the Col like an old crone up a steep hill.

Not only was the pace frustrating, but I also hated journeying past so many lands and being unable to explore or enjoy any of them. We did pass the mysterious Doliones Island whose inhabitants are said to worship the moon and can shift their shape when angered or threatened, but I saw only its thickly forested shoreline. Despite drifting past places I'd read so much about, I saw little but small docks, empty beaches, and other passengers enduring the slow journey.

Our arrival to the coastal polis of Astoria was greeted by a warm sun glinting off Poseidon's hilltop temple. Even though some Astorians worshipped other gods, Astoria was truly Poseidon's realm. His claim on this polis wasn't a grab for power, but had come about because the people here recognized he was the only god who could make passing through the Graveyard remotely safe.

With its unpredictable currents and undertow, its sand bars and rocky headlands, this passage from river to sea was dangerous in its own right. But the Graveyard's natural dangers were nothing compared to what lurked under the water: the sea monster, Cetus, who might wake with only the slightest urging from a disgruntled god. And when Cetus woke, he destroyed any ship within his reach.

Because of these dangers and because sailors are superstitious by nature, any ship's captain who wanted his craft to survive the crossing, took the time to pull into the Astorian harbor and pay honor to Poseidon and to plead with the sea god to let Cetus remain sleeping as their ships passed over his lair.

Curious about this ritual, I asked permission to accompany the captain and his mate to observe it, explaining my previous temple training. The captain, a man of about Sirius's age with cheeks red from windburn, agreed. With Macrinus escorting me, we climbed the hill on which Poseidon's temple perched. The location was outstanding and gave a full view the whole of the Graveyard. That day, with calm winds and the sun shining, the water between the headlands looked no more dangerous than a lake, but I shuddered when I thought of how many ships were strewn at the bottom of this passage to the Western Sea.

A priest said prayers over the captain and over the small model of the ship he'd carried up. I suppose I should have prayed to Apollo to keep me safe, but I didn't want to risk praying to another god when we needed Poseidon's full attention.

The priest then took the captain's arm and pushed up the sleeve. I cringed at the sight of all the scars on the old seaman's forearm and wondered if he'd been fighting mountain cats on his days off. Macrinus, knowing what was coming, took my arm and pulled me back a step. The priest, in a move so fast I barely caught it, whipped out a dagger and drew it across the captain's exposed flesh.

Without a flinch or even a grimace of pain, the captain allowed the blood to spill onto the altar in front of the temple, then the priest applied to the cut a clump of moss that I recognized from Alerio's writings. It would not only staunch the blood, but would also make the wound clot quickly.

The captain then urged his first mate to step up. The boy's sleeve was pushed up to reveal a muscular, trembling arm that was free of scars. Just as deftly as before, the priest drew blood from the boy who was at least three years younger than me. He winced then smiled proudly as he watched his blood drip over the stone altar. Macrinus later explained this was a rite of passage and no sailor could call himself a true shipman unless he had dribbled his blood over the altar to Poseidon and crossed the Graveyard safely at least once in his life.

With the sacrifice made, some cargo and passengers were offloaded, and replacements were put in their stead. The ship then crawled toward the Graveyard. Even before the barge's guide ropes were off our vessel, Macrinus had gone pale.

"Mint?"

"Only if it comes with a jug of Osteria's strongest wine to knock me out."

The sacrifices and prayers did nothing to calm the Graveyard. What looked so tranquil from up on that hill, was a churning mess when you were on it. Even the wide, sturdy grain ship bucked and tilted with the strange current. I didn't know much about ships, but I knew this craft was too large, too clunky to maneuver swiftly if we neared a hidden outcrop of rocks. The thought made my own strong stomach lurch.

Just as I thought we were over the worst of it, the ship crested a sneaker wave and slammed down. Macrinus could take no more and heaved so hard it hurt just to hear it.

I will swear until the end of my days that I saw a reptilian claw reach up toward our sails. I shut my eyes and begged Poseidon to see us through. The ship rose and slammed down three more times. Sea water sprayed my face and Macrinus groaned.

A moment after the third disorienting crash, the captain and crew cheered. I wondered if they'd gone mad, but then the roar of the crashing waves quieted and the ship rolled with a calmer rhythm.

"I think we cleared the Graveyard," I said to Macrinus who had slumped down onto the deck. I fetched some water to clean him and then wrapped him in a blanket.

"I never want to do that again," he said once he'd mostly recovered. "Actually, if I never see Astoria again, it will be too soon. I hate water travel. Really really hate it."

"You do remember we have to board another boat after this," I teased. I'd played nursemaid to his vile spewing, now I deserved some fun at his expense. He'd have done the same for me. "A small, fast one on which you'll notice every wave, every swell."

Macrinus grimaced. "The gods have truly cursed me by giving me you as a traveling companion."

We never strayed far from the coastline. Pirates weren't as large a problem as they had been a decade ago, but no one wanted to tempt the gods by losing sight of land. As we chugged along, I read Papinias's words over and over, tracing my fingers along his message of love and longing at the end. I knew I would eventually have to discard the letter, but I wanted to enjoy my first and only contact with Papinias in over a year for as long as I could even if the message's contents pained me.

As the ship lumbered over swells, Saltia tumbled into love with her guard, Cassius. He had her same fair coloring and blue eyes. Saltia couldn't remember the name of the village she'd been captured from, but he was certain they must come from the same region far north of Osteria's borders called Entioc. He tested his theory with a few words of greeting in the Entiocan language.

Saltia, although she'd been speaking the Bendrian dialect for as long as she could remember, recognized the words. As a distraction during the journey, and probably as an excuse to spend time with her, Cassius helped Saltia learn some of the language she hadn't spoken since a child. Both delighted in the instruction and in their secret conversations.

So, on the third night aboard the grain ship, it didn't surprise me when Saltia wasn't in her usual spot by my side. Nor did it surprise me when I looked over to where Cassius kept his bedroll, to see them huddled under his cloak and moving together in a way that reminded me of the motion of the sea.

By choosing her own lover Saltia was behaving as if already free and this would have been grounds for punishment by any other owner, but I could never scold anyone for deciding who they would love. Watching their rhythmic movements left my body yearning for Papinias. Although I worked at suppressing the idea of us together, with bedsport taking place so nearby, the effort was an absolute failure that night.

* * *

Even though Macrinus's stomach had calmed, his sea legs hadn't improved much, but I was certain that on more than one occasion he stumbled just to let me steady him. With his easy manner and quick humor, my guard was a welcome companion who was happy to satisfy my curiosity about what Papi had been up to this past year.

Macrinus told me Papinias had indeed completed his apprenticeship and had done so with one of the best medics in Portaceae. Sirius had arranged for it, but not without expectation. During Papinias's training, Sirius took advantage of Papi's orderly mind and tidy hand by employing him at keeping records and organizing paperwork. Although he was now the official medic of Sirius's household (Sirius apparently having frequent stomach ailments), Papinias still spent most of his time serving as secretary. It was through this work that Macrinus had come to meet my former lover.

"I can't see why Sirius would keep a lawyer on his staff," I whispered one night after most everyone else had gone to sleep. It had become a habit of ours to stay up talking long into the night.

"Are you trying to put me out of a job?" he teased.

"It just strikes me as odd that Sirius has need of someone who knows the law so near at hand rather than just going to a lawyer as needed."

"It's because Osterian politics are such a mess. You'll find that out the minute you enter Sirius's world. There are so many relatives promising favors and positions to one another and such a network of inheritance clauses like the one between Plautinius and Sirius that a good lawyer to advise you the instant you need him is vital."

His legal abilities, not to mention his obvious strength and loyalty, was why Macrinus had been chosen to head up my guard.

"Sirius worried your father might cause trouble when the time came for you to be collected. After all, it isn't often that fathers marry off their daughters to strangers without expecting anything in return."

"Sirius clearly didn't learn much about my father in the time he was in Dekos."

* * *

In my boredom, I lost track of how many days we were at sea, but I was never more desirous for a change of pace from the routine of the ship. When news finally came that we would dock in Seattica the next afternoon, an excited impatience at the prospect of getting off the ship took over my usually calm mind. My reprieve from the dull life as a ship's passenger might be short-lived since we'd only have a day or two before getting on board the ferry that sailed to Orkos, but that didn't stop me from being among the passengers who cheered, hooted, and waved like fools at the little barges coming to catch our ropes and begin the work of guiding the grain ship into harbor.

These smaller boats also brought messages. One was for Macrinus. He opened it with haste.

"Oh, thank the gods on Olympus," he said and for a moment I dared to hope that Sirius had changed his mind about marrying me. Macrinus thrust the letter into my hand, but its contents spilled from his lips in an excited rush. "Sirius got sent to Vancuse. We're not getting on another ship! We're to hire horses and ride north instead. He's also sent a message to one of the magistrates in Seattica and we can stay the night in his home. No tavern. No third boat. Even if you don't want to smother Sirius Verus with kisses, I think I might if he was here."

The moment a plank was laid from ship to dock, Macrinus was the first in line to dash across it. With Saltia, Cassius, and me close behind, he promptly dropped to his knees and kissed the wooden dock, an act which earned him curses from the dozens of other people who were just as eager to get off the lumbering vessel.

Once we settled into the magistrate's house, Macrinus left to organize our travel arrangements while I spent the rest of the day enjoying the feel of walking. Ignoring the two guards who accompanied me, I walked down streets, I walked through parks, I walked up and over the many hills of Portaceae's rival city. It felt amazing to be able to stride more than fifty paces without stopping and to stroll without the constant need to balance my weight with every roll of the ship.

That night, although the feel of a real bed under me was luxurious and I delighted in being away from all the snoring passengers, my body refused to leave the ship and still seemed to be bobbing up and down. The strange sensation, the thoughts of what the next stage of my life might bring, and the desire to talk them over with Macrinus (who was in another wing of the vast house) kept me from fully enjoying my first night of true comfort since leaving home.

In the morning, Macrinus knocked on my door. Saltia answered and showed him in, announcing his presence out of habit even though the room was undivided and I could see him from where I stood packing my clothes.

"Cassius is waiting for you, Saltia. Just down the stairs. I need to speak with your mistress."

Saltia cast me a winking glance and I rolled my eyes before nodding her goodbye. She skipped out the door like a girl.

"More promises?" I jested as I folded yesterday's tunic into my travel bag.

"Are you packed and ready? It'll be a long journey."

"I can't say I'm ready for what waits at the end of this journey, but I'm packed for travel."

He scanned the room almost as if checking to see that I hadn't forgotten anything. "There's no brazier in here," he said abruptly. "We'll need to go to the kitchens."

"For what?" I was taken aback by his serious tone. Although I was certain I hadn't, I felt I'd done something to offend him.

"I was with you nearly every moment on that vessel of torture. I know you still have Papinias's letter. And you know you have to be rid of it. We'll be traveling with new men. Only Cassius – who begged to come along – and I will be familiar to you. I can't say if the others are Plautinius's spies or not, but I won't have you risking your neck by reading that letter or dropping it or having it found. I know it's hard, but you have to burn it." He held out his hand and I took it. Like a father with a child, he guided me down the stairs to the line of braziers the kitchen slaves had lit to cook the morning meals.

My fingers grazed over the figurine – still wrapped in Papi's sketch – as I teased out the much-read piece of parchment from the pouch on my belt where I kept my other trinkets and valuables. I fingered the tattered edges of the letter once more as if I could absorb the words inside. Then, as if it meant nothing to me, I flung the message into the red coals of the brazier.

Seeing it resting there and starting to smolder, I yearned to yank it out. Before my hand could reach for it, a lick of flame devoured the precious yet horrible message. I ached like a part of myself was caught in the flames as it turned to ash in a heartbeat. Macrinus put his arm around me and steered me away.

"Don't worry, you'll see him soon."

"But what will it matter?"

"Sometimes it helps just being near the ones you love."

"I'm afraid I'll want to be too near and risk both our lives." My throat tightened and I swallowed hard to force the emotions down.

"Well, it's good I've snared you into your promises of fidelity then, isn't it?"

## CHAPTER FIFTEEN

### _Journey's End_

AFTER ONLY A few days on horseback, I was ready to ditch my mount and get back to life on board a ship; it may be monotonous, but at least a ship's deck was a pain-free mode of travel. My new retinue – except Cassius and Macrinus who knew better than to ask – insisted I ride in a litter. When I pointed out how much extra time it would take and that my future husband was waiting, they smiled to themselves as if they understood my eagerness to be with Sirius. They told me I could ride as long as I switched to a litter before entering Vancuse City. I shrugged, but didn't verbally agree to anything.

Northern Osteria, with its waterways and temperate forests, was vastly different from the dry landscape of Bendria. Where there wasn't meadow or marsh, thick stands of conifers grew, their tips drooping as if bowing to us as we passed. Used to the reds and browns of Bendria, my eyes could barely absorb all the shades of green, and trying to take it all in distracted me from my aching back and legs.

The only complaint I had with this vibrant region was the perpetual damp. As the ninth month, the month of Demeter, slipped into the tenth, the month of Dionysus, we entered into fall. The days were still warm enough, but we had rain more often than not. Even when it wasn't raining, unless it was fully sunny, a mist clung to the air. Macrinus despised the constant damp and was a poor companion because of it, so I spent much of my daytime hours with Cassius and Saltia who had enough time alone together in the evenings to not treat me like an intruder to their budding romance.

With every mile marker we passed on this journey northward, I both dreaded meeting Sirius and longed to settle down for more than one night. To think I had nearly traveled from one end of the realm to the other frightened me a little. I was so far from anything familiar. If I ever became separated from the group, how would I find my way back? Despite this worry, I gloated with a dose of pride at the knowledge I had traveled farther from Bendria than Bassio ever had or had ever dreamed of doing.

With the distraction of conversation and sights, I hadn't given much thought to my father. I couldn't quite hate him, there was too much familial loyalty within me to do so, but the line separating my loyalty from my hatred was thinner than a hair of my horse's mane. I would never forgive him for his stubbornness, his betrayal, nor his loss of faith in me, and I doubted I would return to see him while he still lived. It was as if every hoof beat, every oar stroke, every gust of wind in the sails was wiping away the connection I had to my home bit by bit.

With Sirius I would have to find a new place in his world, to forge a new life, and – I was determined – to discover a new importance to replace the status Bassio had denied me. I told myself it would do no good to dwell on the past, on what and whom I had lost. Even Papinias was gone from me now.

My old life was vanishing, each mile was like a sunbeam hitting a painting day after day, imperceptibly fading the image with each passing hour. I had to forget the old image and look forward to, find happiness in a new one. Brave words, but they didn't always ring true in my own mind.

From having studied the maps in the magistrate's house and counting the mile markers posted along the Osteria Road, I knew we would soon be coming upon Surria, a decent-sized town just south of Vancuse. Although barely past midday, I insisted we stop for the night.

"But it's only a couple hours' ride," Macrinus said. "I know you're sore, but surely you can manage." I scolded him with a glance. Of all people I would have thought he'd understand my wanting to delay my reunion with Sirius. But Macrinus was in a foul mood; the dripping canopy of trees had soaked him to the point he couldn't get dry and this had left him irritable with everyone for the past couple days.

"I want to rest. I want to look refreshed for my husband," I said loud enough for those around us to hear.

From under the drooping hood of his sodden cloak, Macrinus grinned slyly at me.

"For your husband," he said with a skeptical arch of an eyebrow. "Of course, Domna. But we're not stopping at some shabby tavern. I want a very hot bath and piles of dry towels. Any argument with that?"

Before I could reply, he trotted ahead to let the others know we'd be spending the night in Surria.

Surria couldn't have been a better place to rest and I wished we could have stayed longer. This was where Cassius's family had moved to from Entioc when he was a little boy and he knew just the place Macrinus needed. He led us to a small villa that looked over a meadow framed by green hills. Owned by a cousin of his, the tranquil villa certainly beat the noise and smell of a tavern's rooms, although I had gotten rather used to their boisterous charms during my journey.

To ease my saddle sores and enjoy some solitude, I left my traveling party to their whims. Macrinus had already made a beeline for the baths, and an excited Saltia had gone to meet Cassius's family who lived nearby. The sun had finally burst from the clouds and I enjoyed its warmth as I strolled through the meadow admiring the plant life.

As we had traveled Macrinus told me the names of a few plants, but he was no botanist. So, in this meadow I could name yarrow, goldenrod, and aster, but many of the plants were simply leafy tree, spiny shrub, Mile Ten flower, stinky bloom, and other such made-up names he'd used to hide his ignorance. I longed for more time here to draw the plants and send questions about and samples of them to Alerio, but an afternoon wasn't long enough to record so much variety.

Once she returned from visiting with Cassius's family, Saltia was eager to tell me every word they had said, every warm gesture they had made toward her, and how much she adored Cassius. As she babbled, she helped me bathe. Although I hated myself for the selfish thought, I was glad I hadn't manumitted Saltia yet because after so long of only brief washes in basins of tepid water, it was a luxury to relax under her work with oils to cleanse my skin, stirgils to scrape away the layers of dirt, and stiff brushes to remove the filth from under my nails.

As she scrubbed away each layer of grime, I felt I was sloughing off my old self. After the first soak in the warm bath, I was no longer my father's child or apprentice. With the following dip into the scalding hot bath, I was no longer Papinias's lover.

I thanked Apollo that I could at least still be Macrinus's jesting mate, but when I stepped out of the final pool, the cold bath that was meant to renew the skin, I bit back bitter tears, knowing that I was now stepping into my new role as the wife of Sirius Verus.

***

**_Ready for more?_**

Will Sofia heed Macrinus's warnings? How will she settle into her marriage? Can she withstand threats, shame, and temptation to guide her husband to the highest role in the realm?

Find out and continue Sofia's tale today with **_Domna, Part Two: The Solon's Son_**.
The Inspiration for _Domna_

My first encounter with the story of Julia Domna (Sofia Domna in the story) came while watching a PBS documentary. The show covered an archaeological dig that had been done in York, England, during which a mass grave had been found. The bodies all showed signs of having been killed in a battle and evidence pointed to the battle having taken place sometime around the rule of the Roman Emperor Caracalla.

There was plenty of speculation about what ignited this fight, especially since York is pretty damn far from Rome. More evidence, more interviews, more research, blah blah blah, and eventually they decided these must have been the supporters of Caracalla's younger brother and co-emperor Geta.

Little is known of Geta because after he was killed, his name had been cursed in the Roman tradition of _damnatio memoriae_ , which basically meant all images of you and mentions of your name were to be destroyed.

Let's just say, you have to really piss someone off to get that level of the cold shoulder treatment.

This filled my overactive imagination with a flurry of questions. What had happened between these two brothers to take sibling rivalry to such an extreme? Historians make Caracalla out to be the bad guy, but what if Geta had done something to deserve the _damnatio memoriae_? What might be the background story of these two brothers?

Looking into Caracalla's history quickly led me to his mother Julia Domna, the wife of Emperor Septimius Severus who was much older than Julia. As with many women in ancient history, there's not a huge amount of information on her, but what I found intrigued me.

Julia turned out to be one of the rare wives of Roman emperors who actually played a major role in her husband's rule and even joined him on campaign. She encouraged learning and philosophy, and had a hand in the building of many public works (especially important since Septimius's predecessor, Commodus had made a mess of things during his years of misrule).

Despite being an arranged marriage, Julia's life with Septimius was supposedly a happy one. There's also little but praise for Julia in most historical accounts. For family dynamics and women's history, that's great! For fiction, that's just too boring. Where's the strife? Where's the hardship? And most importantly, how can I torment this person? (Sorry, we writers can be a wicked bunch.)

I first started pondering how the age gap between Julia and Septimius might come into play. And, as in Part One, these two were indeed betrothed while Septimius was still married to his first wife and only married upon her death. Well, that piqued my writer's interest. I mulled over the situation and decided to turn this betrothal into a forced marriage and added some intrigue into the death of Septimius's (Sirius's) wife. In Part One of this serialized novel you found out why the betrothal was such awful news for Julia (Sofia).

Then there's the conflict between Emperor Caracalla (Lucius) and Geta. Why was there this sibling rivalry? Why would Caracalla attack Geta? My immediate thought was, could he have been defending his mother? If so, what led to the point that Geta might attack his own mother? I don't want to give too much away, but I decided Geta should not be Julia's own child, that he should be Septimius's bastard she was forced to raise (I came up with this WAY before _Game of Thrones_ was ever a thing, so no Jon Snow comparisons, please).

Besides tons of political scheming in the story, the situation of the arranged marriage I'd created lent itself to plenty of problems within the household. Even though Julia/Sofia does her best to be loyal to Septimius/Sirius, she has a past that she can't escape, ends up the victim of some horrible rumors, and finds herself in a pretty complicated and very dangerous love triangle.

So, if I'd done all this research, you might be wondering why I didn't just write a historical novel.

I did.

There were some troublesome aspects of the research and wide gaps in both Julia's and Septimius's lives I couldn't sort out. As I didn't want to fill the book with inaccuracies, these gaps left me banging my head against a wall trying to finish this as a historical novel — which is why the manuscript sat on my shelf for six years. By this time, I'd completed four books of my six-part series, The Osteria Chronicles, that's set in a Greek-and-Roman-inspired world. Since it was based on events in Ancient Rome, _Domna_ was already full of Roman culture. I realized with some work I could adjust the draft from pure historical fiction to historical fantasy if I simply set the novel in Osteria.

This proved to be a challenge and required nearly a complete rewrite, but it also freed me from those missing pieces of research while providing me a great deal of license with and inspiration for the story as a whole. Besides working all the settings into the locations across Osteria, I've changed most of the historical names, given Julia (now Sofia) a new divine lineage, built in new story lines, and, yes, thrown in some centaurs to the mix, one of whom you'll meet in _Part Three: The Centaur's Gamble_.

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## **_Remember, Reviews Help Others Discover Great Books_**

If you enjoyed this book and have an extra minute, please remember to leave a review on the websites of your favorite book retailers, on Goodreads, or on Bookbub.
****

_Want More Osteria? _

Sign up for my mailing list today to receive a free copy of my exclusive short story from Osteria:

**_A Feast for Sight_**

_Three oracles. Two eyeballs. One insatiable craving._

**Click or tap HERE to get your story today!**

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_About the Author_

Tammie Painter worked for years in science before discovering her true passion in writing. Her fascination for myths, history, and how they interweave inspired the Osteria Chronicles series. When she isn't (but probably should be) writing, Tammie can be found gardening, planning her next travel adventure, or wrangling her hive of honeybees.

Learn more about Tammie at

_TammiePainter.com_

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**_Want to know when my next book is available? Follow me at_** ** _BookBub_** ** _to get an alert whenever I have a new release, or to receive exclusive goodies and inside peeks, be sure to_** ** _sign up_** ** _for my monthly newsletter!_**

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**Other Books by Tammie Painter**

**_The Trials of Hercules: Book One of the Osteria Chronicles_**

**In a world where mortals contend with the gods' vengeful jealousy, one man must ask himself if he will risk his life to defend the goddess who has done everything to destroy him.**

Convicted of three heinous murders, Herc Dion is sentenced to a series of trials that will pit him against formidable monsters, push his physical and mental endurance to the limit, and deliver him to the edge of Hades.

Throughout these ordeals, Herc endures the brutal cruelty of Hera whose hatred of Herc has blinded her to the near ruin of her realm and to plans that will spell the end of her existence. Realizing Hera has ruined his life, will Herc risk his own life to protect her?

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**_The Voyage of Heroes: Book Two of the Osteria Chronicles_**

**In a dangerous game that pits god against god, and family against one another, trust is the deadliest weapon.**

Believing a well-guarded treasure will prove he is rightful leader, Jason, Prince of Illamos Valley, sets out on a perilous quest to obtain it. As his voyage takes him across treacherous waters and into an aggressively fortified kingdom, Jason finds himself combatting the ire of gods and monsters, struggling to control a rebellious crew, and battling against doubts of his own worthiness to be king of the land he is fighting to save.

But even if he gains the treasure, can Jason recapture the trust of his people, secure his throne, and survive the betrayal of the one person he never expected to turn against him?

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**_The Maze of Minos: Book Three of the Osteria Chronicles_**

**With the gods as your allies, your life, your world, and your sanity have never been in more danger.**

_The Maze of Minos_ is an exhilarating tale of deception and determination, hostile ambition and daring heroism.

Soon after returning to Athenos to celebrate his father's recent marriage, Theseus learns his homeland must submit to the cruel demands of an unexpected enemy. Goaded by his father's new wife, Theseus volunteers to defend his land by entering a battle to the death in the pitch black depths of an ancient maze. A battle against a monster of the gods' creation. A battle no other has survived.

Aided by the goddess Aphrodite, Theseus stands a stronger chance of triumph than his predecessors, but as ever, the gods' kindness harbors ulterior motives. His bravery, his sacrifice, his struggle to push his world back from the brink of war only serves to further Aphrodite's goals. Goals that will destroy the stability of Osteria and anyone who stands in her way.

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**_The Bonds of Osteria: Book Four of the Osteria Chronicles_**

**In a fierce clash for power, titans rise, heroes fall, and the gods find themselves on the brink of destruction** _._

The titans gather. The gods plot against one another. And the mortals of Osteria become locked in a battle against nature, monsters, and one other.

When internal and external struggles push them too far, former heroes prove themselves unable to protect Osteria, and new heroes are forged as the bonds of family, friendship, and marriage are challenged at every turn. But will their valor be enough in a world where even love can lead to war amidst the gods' battle for supremacy?

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**_Domna, A Novel of Osteria: The Complete Set_**

**_Destiny isn't given by the gods, it's made by defying them_.**

If you like the political intrigue, adventure, and love triangles of historical fiction by Philippa Gregory and Bernard Cornwell, and the mythological world-building of fantasy fiction by Madeline Miller and Simon Scarrow, you'll love _Domna_ 's epic tale of passion, ambition, and betrayal **.**

_Domna: The Complete Series_ includes all six parts of the serialized novel in one volume.

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**_Domna, Part One: The Sun God's Daughter_**

**_As a realm teeters on the verge of rebellion anything is possible, except one woman's freedom to choose her fate._**

Sofia Domna has her future planned. She will follow in her father's footsteps and lead the Temple of Apollo. She'll marry her childhood love, Papinias. She'll have respect, status, and power.

So when her father bitterly forces her betrothal to a stranger and orders her from the life she's always known, Sofia is thrown into a new world where any wrong move could mean her demise.

Refusing to give up her home, her future, and her love, Sofia immediately plans her escape, but she soon learns exactly how cruel destiny and the people surrounding her new husband can be.

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**_Domna, Part Two: The Solon's Son_**

**_When your destiny has been stolen, it's up to you to make a new one. But first you have to survive the marriage you've been forced into._**

Having been warned by her guard, Macrinus, that her life depends on being faithful to her new husband, Sofia Domna enters the grand city-state of Vancuse to begin her arranged marriage to Sirius Verus. But when she discovers her former lover serves in her new household, Sofia's resolve is tested at every turn.

When she becomes pregnant, Sofia's fidelity is immediately questioned even as Sirius's secrets unravel. Secrets that will turn Sofia's world on its head.

With a backdrop of political and marital instability, and Sirius's once-great status quickly on the decline, can Sofia withstand threats, shame, and temptation to guide her husband to the highest role in the realm?

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**_Domna, Part Three: The Centaur's Gamble_**

**_In a world mired in chaos one wrong word could mean death, but one promise could mean greatness._**

After barely surviving his previous appointment, Sirius claims being forgotten may be the safest place in the violent turbulence of Osterian politics. But Sofia's ambitions remain steadfast and she refuses to accept the gods have destined her to waste away in obscurity.

Just as Sirius settles into the peace of a rural life, an old friend offers him the chance to inherit the title of Solon if he's willing to fight for it. Will Sirius take the chance, or will he opt to stay safe? More importantly, will Sofia let him have a choice in the matter?

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**_Domna, Part Four: The Regent's Edict_**

**_A fight for power. A battle for loyalty. A plot that could cause it all to crumble._**

Although he's won the solonship, Sirius soon discovers others are poised to viciously claim the title as their own.

Catapulted into a world of danger and temptation, Sofia discovers her only chance of survival is to stay one step ahead of her enemies.

But in Osteria, new perils lurk around every corner and plots don't always strike down their intended victims as Sofia discovers her ambition may cost her far more than she expected to pay.

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**_Domna, Part Five: The Forgotten Heir_**

**_When the Solon ignores an imminent threat, one woman will go to any extreme to save him, protect her son, and ensure the stability of their realm._**

Sirius Verus believes his rule is secure, but when a plot is discovered to overthrow him, he refuses to accept that the person he trusts most is behind it. With an enemy army ready to march on the capital, Sirius's days as Solon and his family's lives are numbered.

Unwilling to let the threat fester, Sofia and Lucius take matters into their own hands, but this vicious retribution leaves Sirius fearful of making Lucius heir.

From the comfort of the Solonian Palace to the wilds of the Island of Naimo, Part Five of the _Domna_ serial tests the limits of sibling rivalry, family loyalty, and the future of Osteria.

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**_Domna, Part Six: The Solon's Wife_**

**_A life of love or a life of power. A promise to the gods or following your heart's desire. The choice must be made._**

The Solon is ill. If he dies, Sofia will be forced not only to fight for her son's right to rule, but will also face making good on a promise she made to the gods long ago. A promise she no longer wishes to fulfill.

As fate catapults her from joy to sorrow, from hope to despair, and from certainty to doubt, Sofia finds herself trapped between her two strongest desires.

In this final part of the _Domna_ serial, the struggle for power grows to its deadliest proportions yet and the choices Sofia must make will tear her world apart.

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**_13th Hour: Tales from Light to Midnight_**

**_From light tales of legends and love, to dark stories of ancient beasts and a desperate chef, 13th Hour will delight you, mystify you, and make you cringe._**

_13th Hour_ 's seventeen tales tick through questions such as....Can you dream forever? What is it really like to work for the gods? What would you do for love? Or for revenge? Do fabled creatures still stalk the earth? What lurks in paradise? What is your family's darkest secret? And many more.

So sit down and unwind your clocks because it's time for the 13th Hour.

**Domna: A Novel of Osteria** ****

**Part One: The Sun God's Daughter**

Copyright © 2019 by Tammie Painter

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please respect the law and the rights of the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

You may contact the author by email at

_Tammie@tammiepainter.com_

Mailing Address

Black Rabbit Publishing

P.O. Box 165

Netarts, Oregon 97143, USA

_Cover images: Eyes by Pixabay User ghwtog; Helmet by Pixabay user ArtCoreStudios_
_Take a Tour of Osteria_

No matter what genre an author writes in, his or her characters need a place to live. And in fantasy fiction, the writer (that's me!) gets to create a whole world for their characters to cavort in.

For my first two fantasy series, I've stuck my characters in a world called Osteria that's just made for exploring.

So, I'm inviting you to come along with me on a tour of that world! Don't worry, it's completely free, there's no long security lines, and you won't feel a lick of jet lag!

On this tour you'll...

  * Travel along a self-guided journey through the lands of Osteria,
  * Introduce yourself to some of its inhabitants (although you might want to steer clear of a few of them)
  * Grab some behind-the-scenes historical peeks of the inspiration for this fantasy realm, and
  * Uncover some of Osteria's mythological influences

Wandering through this tour of my world isn't necessary to enjoy the books of Osteria, but stepping into Osteria itself and discovering the stories behind the stories will take you that much deeper into this new, yet familiar realm.

**_All set? Then_** ** _CLICK HERE_** ** _and let's go!_**
