She’d also, in the end, learned a great deal from her mother about vengeance. She would have that, too.
The Roman soldiers she passed would often stop what they were doing, stare for a moment, and then bow slightly, murmuring in her wake. They were unaccustomed to having a young woman in camp, but she felt no fear among them. It wasn’t just the praetorian who, she knew, trailed along somewhere behind her. It was the fact that most of the men just seemed glad for something beautiful to look upon—even if for only a moment.
Selene also felt safe because the camp, despite all its filth, remained a remarkably well-ordered place. Growing up she’d heard jokes about the Roman need for order, but from inside the ranks of the Roman army she could see so clearly that the strict discipline of the men, extending from their actions upon the field to the precise layout of their tents, was perhaps their greatest strength. And she found that comforting.
By the time she reached the tent that she shared with her husband, at least an hour had passed since Juba had departed. And whatever else she expected upon pulling aside the flap that served for a door, she didn’t expect to see Tiberius standing in the dim light.
“Tiberius,” she gasped, frightened.
He was standing in the middle of the tent. He had his back to her, his head lowered. It almost looked like he was staring at the bed. “It’s Lord Tiberius now,” he said. “I’m fifteen, you know. I’m a man. And Caesar sees fit to judge me among the leadership.”
Selene swallowed hard. “Of course. I’m pleased to know that Caesar thinks so highly of you. It is well deserved.”
When he turned around to face her, she saw for a moment the old darkness in his eyes. Tiberius had long been plagued by a kind of melancholy, something she always tried to cheer him from when they were younger. But then it passed—or the light changed, she couldn’t be sure. He looked softer, more like the young boy she’d known, though his body was indeed that of a young man. He was stronger now. And more stubborn. “But we need no formalities, Selene. We grew up in the same household. We are like family, you and I. It is important for us to remain devoted to one another.”
“It is,” she said. Why was he here? What did he want? “I’m devoted to what’s important.”
Tiberius gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve no doubt.”
Selene moved away from the door toward the little writing desk Juba had placed in the corner of the room. She tried to move with an unconcerned grace, though she felt an uncertain fear in his presence. Her heart quaked and her mind spun with questions. “If you’re looking for my husband—”
“I’m not,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m looking for you.” She felt his stare following her, though she didn’t dare turn to look.
“Oh?” As casually as she could, she let her eyes roll across the small chest where she kept the Palladium. It hadn’t moved. The lock appeared undisturbed. That, at least, was a relief. “I can’t think that I’m of much importance here.”
“You are to me,” he said.
Selene felt his stare leave her, and when she chanced a glance back she could see that he was looking toward the ground, and that he’d begun a kind of slow pace across the floor. “We did indeed grow up together,” she said, turning her gaze back to the desk before he could look up again at her.
“It’s more than that,” he replied. His voice was quiet. “You know that.”
Selene didn’t know how to reply, so instead she said nothing. She stared at the desk, wondering what to say or do, wondering what Tiberius intended, and longing for Juba to return. When she turned, she gasped instinctively. The young man had walked up behind her in his pacing, and they stood nearly face-to-face.
“There’s more,” Tiberius said.
Selene berated herself for having been startled, but her heart simply refused to stop pounding in her chest. The air was hot and swelteringly thick. Tiberius was standing, she realized, directly between her and the flap of the tent. If he did something, she wondered, should she cry out? And if she did, would anyone come? Or would the praetorians simply stand guard as she was overpowered?
“What happened that night?”
She blinked at the unexpected question. “What night?”
“You know which one,” he said. “In Rome. The night you broke into the Temple of the Vestal Virgins.”
Selene did her best to seem impassive, thinking of all her mother had taught her about the game of kings. “You were there,” she said.
“And I know what I saw. Or what I think I saw.”
“So what do you think you saw?”
“A wind,” Tiberius said. His gaze moved off of hers as he remembered. “A sharp wind on a windless night.”
Selene said nothing. Please, she thought, please let Juba come soon. Her guard had said it would be perhaps an hour, had he not? Surely her husband would come soon. Please.
His gaze returned to hers. Piercing and probing. Angry and lusting. “It wasn’t just a little statue of Horus that you stole, was it?”
“I don’t have time to talk about this, Tiberius.” Selene stepped to the side and began to walk around him, toward the flap of the tent. “I need to—”
His hand shot up and gripped her arm hard, stopping her with unexpected strength. “Was it?”
Selene shrugged her arm. “Let me go, Tiberius. Let me go or I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Selene?” His grip tightened painfully. “Scream? No one here will care. The praetorians will keep the peace well enough. I’ve tested that before.”
Selene swallowed hard. “My husband,” she said plaintively.
“Is away,” Tiberius sneered. “And it was wrong to marry you to him. A jewel like you, in the hands of that dark-skinned beast—”
Her free hand came up almost of its own accord. Without a moment of thought, she struck him hard across the face. She gasped at the suddenness of her own anger, even as she pulled her hand back.
His head had turned with the blow, but Tiberius did not react for a moment. Then he let her go and slowly raised his hand to his face, rubbing at his reddened skin. His jaw rocked back and forth, as if ensuring that it was still functional. “I don’t think that was wise, Selene. I will be Caesar myself one day.”
May that day never come, she thought. To Tiberius she said, “And it was Caesar who chose him for my husband. Do you disapprove of his choices so?”
The young man hadn’t expected that reply, and she could see him working over in his mind how best to respond. They both knew that he didn’t dare insult the decision of his stepfather. “Marriages can be a matter of convenience,” he finally said. “I know that more than most. Caesar chose rightly for now. But perhaps, if you still please me, I’ll find you a more suitable match one day. And I’ll not leave you out ruling some frontier land. I’ll have you in Rome, where the daughter of Cleopatra should be.”
Selene wanted to throw up, but her face, she hoped, was once more every bit as impassive as her mother taught her it could be. She made the slightest bow of her head, an acknowledgment of his authority but not an acquiescence to his threat. “May I go now, Lord Tiberius?”
His jaw clenched once, twice, and then he stepped out of the way.
Selene nodded once more. As she started to step past him, his hand once more caught her arm, tight enough to make her wince. He leaned in toward her, close enough that she could feel his breath upon her cheek. She refused to look at him. She simply stared at the tent flap, willing her husband to come through.
“You know I’ll find out, Selene.” The voice of Tiberius was calm, quiet, yet it was full of a kind of threat that she would not have thought such a young man capable of—at least before now. “What you took from the temple that night. How you caused that wind. It was you. And I’ll find out how. I promise you.”
He let go of her, and Selene walked away, head high and proud and impassive. She pushed open the tent flap, blinking as she stepped into the light. The praetorians had a kind of perimeter around the tent. Their backs were turned away from her, and they stared out into the churning masses of the encampment.