Pelonia stood and moved between her husband and Adiona before Quintus could reach them. Her calm presence defused the escalating tension. “Adiona is the one who’s been hurt. Let’s not add to her pain. No matter what she may or may not have done, it doesn’t warrant murder.”
Caros grunted in agreement, even though he seemed unconvinced.
Quintus stepped back to his place beside a potted palm. Rife with irritation, he watched Adiona, disturbed by the sway of his emotions and intentions toward a woman whose reputation was so sour that even her closest confidant wasn’t surprised someone wished to harm her.
Never in his life had he been as irrational or distracted from his own goals. It was as though he rode a pendulum in a tempest. One moment his anger burned against the widow, her insults, and worse, her effect on him. The next he’d willingly vow to protect her. He was becoming a stranger to himself.
Eager to leave Adiona and the confusion she churned in him, he remembered the scroll he held and offered its return.
She waved the message away. “You open it. It’s from my heir.”
“Drusus?” Caros sneered.
She nodded and cupped her forehead in her palm. “Read it…if you’re able, Quintus.”
He grinned at her second failed attempt to insult him. He noted the serpent pressed into the wax seal as he broke it and scanned the script. “Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“More?” Caros said, rounding his desk.
Adiona stood. “What? Is he whining for more silver?”
Quintus noticed the disdain in her tone and wondered why she’d chosen an heir she held in contempt. “The message was drafted three days ago. It seems your heir’s wife has taken ill. The physician fears she’ll pass on before the week is out. Drusus requests you attend her funeral.”
Adiona paled. “Oh, gods, not Octavia.” She sat heavily as though her knees were too weak to hold her slight weight.
Seeing her grief, Quintus’s heart twisted with compassion. Again he wanted to comfort her, but he crushed the urge, determined not to lose himself in her pain-filled eyes. “For your own safety, you mustn’t leave these walls.”
“I agree,” said Caros. “You’ll have to send your condolences.”
“No, I must go.”
Pelonia crouched before the widow and cast a silencing glance over her shoulder to quiet both men. “Don’t trouble yourself further tonight,” she told Adiona in a gentle voice. “There’s nothing more you can do. Come, let’s tend your wounds and see you’re made comfortable. Tomorrow, once you’re rested, you can decide the best course.”
Quintus watched Adiona’s narrow back until Pelonia led her down a long torch-lit corridor and out of sight. A helpless yearning to soothe her warred with his need to guard his own interests. Only a fool would allow himself to be drawn to the temperamental shrew or embroiled in her many problems. Yet he’d known since the first time he’d seen her months ago that she was dangerous to his peace of mind. Tonight proved just how susceptible he was, both to her beauty and to her vulnerability. How could he continue to resist his attraction, as he must, if he didn’t keep his distance?
He handed the scroll to Caros, disturbed to realize the lanista had been studying him again. “What do you plan to do?” he asked.
Caros shook his head. “I haven’t decided.”
“Do you really think someone means to kill her?”
“I don’t know. Adiona can be…difficult. She doesn’t act or hold her tongue like a proper woman should. I’ve seen her flay senators to the bone with a few well-aimed barbs. I can believe she’s done something to make the wrong person angry enough to seek vengeance.”
“Do you suspect anyone in particular? What about her heir? Neither of you seemed to think well of him.”
“Drusus is the logical choice, but I have my doubts,” Caros said. “It’s true her cousin is a leech, but he’s also a coward. If he wanted Adiona dead, he’d ply her with poison, not warn her of his intentions by having her attacked in the streets. He’d fear her dishonor might rub off on him. He’s too fastidious for that.”
“Unless his inheritance is more valuable to him than his self-respect or reputation.”
“True.”
Pelonia returned, her soft features marred by concern. Caros stood and met her in the middle of the room. “How is Adiona?”
“As well as can be expected. She’s much calmer than I would be in the same situation. I suppose she’s trying to put on a brave face, but I suspect her placid demeanor is no more than a thin layer of ice covering a turbulent winter pond.”
Quintus silently agreed. He’d seen the widow’s icy facade melt in the courtyard. The memory of her pain washed through him until an unbearable need to seek her out and make certain of her welfare sent him heading for the door.
“Quintus?” Caros stopped him. “Where are you going?”
His hands curled into fists. Where was he going? Adiona wasn’t his woman to protect or care for. He had no rights to her. Indeed, he was probably the last person she wanted to see after the way he’d insulted her. His jaw clenched, he scraped his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Pelonia eyed him warily. He wished he could head back to the barracks. He cleared his throat. “Do you think Lady Leonia will listen to reason or insist on attending the funeral?”
“When I left her, she seemed determined to go,” Pelonia said.
Caros frowned. “I’m not surprised. Adiona cares for few people, but those who earn her trust have a friend for life. Octavia happens to be one of those she loves.”
“I don’t know her well,” Pelonia offered, “but Adiona seems stubborn enough to strike out on her own if need be.”
Fear spiked through Quintus. He suspected Adiona was determined, proud and rebellious enough to leave the safety of the ludus just to prove no one cowed or controlled her.
“She just might.” Caros caught Quintus’s gaze. “I’ll do my best to convince her to stay until I can make inquiries and discover her attackers if possible. But if she insists on leaving, I’ll send guards to keep her as safe as I can.”
Pelonia sighed. “I suppose you’ll send Alexius?”
“No,” Caros said gravely. “I think Quintus is the best man for the task.”
Relief and dread filled Quintus with equal measure. He closed his eyes, both savoring and despising the thought of being with Adiona for days, perhaps weeks on end.
Pelonia gasped. “You can’t. He’s still recovering from his fight in the arena.”
I’m fine.
“He’s fine,” Caros said. “Haven’t you noticed his limp is gone?”
Quick
