He nods again. “I was, yes.”
I slowly moisten my lips. “And Kaeso is your son.”
“Yes, Kaeso—” His voice falters just slightly. “Kaeso is my son. And I need your help getting him away from my father.” He pushes a shaking hand through his short hair. “Now that my mother is dead, Kaeso is in danger, and I can’t . . .” He makes a frustrated gesture at the arm he’s holding against his side. “I can’t fight like this. I don’t know if I can get him out without getting us both killed.”
“And he’s in danger?” I ask. “In your father’s house?”
“There is no place in the Empire where he’s more in danger than in my father’s house. Mother was the only thing keeping him safe. Now that she’s gone, Father has no reason not to cast him out and the gods only know what might happen to him.”
“But why? His own grandson—”
“Bastard grandson,” Drusus says through tightly clenched teeth. “And whatever Father chooses to do with him now, it’ll be quiet and it’ll take Kaeso as far from Pompeii as possible, that much I can be sure of. Openly discarding or selling a child, even a bastard child, so soon after my mother’s death wouldn’t look good for a politician.”
We’re both silent for a moment. I can’t imagine what Calvus would do to his own grandson, but he’s already had his wife killed. And somehow, his daughter, the mother of his grandchild, secretly became a lanista.
“Forgive me, I . . .” I let my gaze drift down his body, then back to his face. “How did you become . . .”
He takes a breath and squares his shoulders. “How did I become Drusus the lanista when I was born Statia of Laurea?”
I nod.
He chews the inside of his cheek, and then clears his throat. “We don’t have much time. Help me get dressed.” He nods toward the side of the room where his breastplate is propped against a pillow beside a folded gray tunic. “I can’t put it on myself. Not with . . .” He gestures at his arm. “Taking it off was one thing, but . . .”
“You don’t have to explain,” I say. “You’re injured. I understand.”
I pick up the tunic and breastplate.
With his good arm, he reaches for one of the ties on his shoulder, and he hesitates. He glances down at his women’s clothes, and then his eyes flick up to meet mine. “Saevius, this . . .”
“Drusus,” I whisper. “I’ll help you.”
“I know, but . . .” He swallows.
I set the breastplate and tunic on the furs beside me, and then walk around behind him. I gently push his hand away from his shoulder. “Let me.”
He hesitates again, but finally lowers his hand. I tug at the tie, and it disintegrates into twin ribbons. On the other shoulder, the same.
The thin, colorful silks fall away, sliding down before pooling at his feet.
There’s no mistaking now what Drusus has hidden all this time. Slender shoulders. The sweeping curve of waist and hip that my hands slid over moments ago. When he turns slightly, the distinctly feminine swell of breasts is no longer concealed by leather armor. Even the violent bruises darkening his torso and the bandaged wounds on his side and shoulder can’t mask the soft, delicate shape any more than they did on the women who fought in the arena at the Ludi Appollinares.
Drusus tries to fold his arms, but flinches, grimacing as he lowers his arm over his bruised and bandaged side.
I pick up his clothing and help him dress. As his tunic settles onto his narrow shoulders, Drusus releases a long breath.
I put my hands on his shoulders and lean in to kiss the side of his neck. He shivers, especially when I murmur, “Turn around.”
Slowly, he does, and I never imagined it was possible for the eyes of Drusus to hold as much fear as they do now.
I trail my fingertips down the side of his face. “I thought you were dead, Drusus.”
“So did I.” He sweeps his tongue across his lips. “If you hadn’t come . . .”
“I wouldn’t leave you.” I brush my thumb over his cheekbone. “And I won’t let anything happen to your son.”
Drusus closes his eyes, and I feel more than hear him whisper, “Thank you.”
“Does Kaeso know?” I ask. “That he’s your son?”
Drusus shakes his head slowly. “No. He doesn’t.” He sighs. “It was too dangerous for him to know. Mother and I were going to wait until he was older, when he could understand the consequences if he told anyone.”
“Wise.” I finish helping him dress, until there’s nothing left but his belt and breastplate. He can’t manage the thick belt without jarring his injured shoulder, so I fasten it for him.
Drusus clears his throat. “So, you wanted to know how this . . .”
“I’m curious.” I pick up his breastplate. “But only if you wish to explain it.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “The gods must have had a laugh the day I was born. They know as well as I do I was born to be a man, but I was given this body instead.” He makes a face as he gestures sharply at himself. “From the time I was very small, I’d secretly leave the villa dressed as a boy. No one knew or suspected a thing. As I got older, there were . . . signs. And I thought I hid them, but apparently I didn’t hide them well enough.” He faces me. “Not from the five boys who cornered me behind the Temple of Apollo.”
All the air rushes out of my lungs and I nearly drop the leather armor in my hands.
Drusus releases a long breath. “They swore if I ever spoke a word of the things they did, then they would tell my father I insisted I was a boy whenever I left the villa.” Drusus lowers his gaze and folds his arms as tightly across his chest as his injuries will allow. “The gods only know how long it would have gone on if not for Kaeso.”
“They left you alone once they knew you were with child?”
“Of course. None of them wanted to be accused of being Kaeso’s father and then required to marry me.” He sighs. “Father had no use for me after that. I refused to be a woman. I wasn’t a virgin and I’d soon have the bastard child to prove it. There wasn’t a man in the city who’d marry me, no matter what kind of dowry Father offered. I think he’d have killed me himself if Mother hadn’t paid half a dozen guards to make sure I was protected from him and every other man who wanted me dead.”
My mouth is dry, words deserting my tongue.
Drusus continues, “Mother and I agreed the safest thing for my child and for me was if I disappeared. We made it look like I died when Kaeso was born. Father had gone to the Senate when I gave birth, so I was able to leave.” An unspoken thought darkens Drusus’s expression, his eyes losing focus for a long moment. Then he shakes himself back to life and releases a sharp, bitter breath. “We both knew he wouldn’t care if I was properly buried, and just as Mother expected, he ordered me dumped in a ditch and left for the dogs.” With a shudder, he adds, “He wanted my son thrown in there with me, but Mother refused.”
“And she raised him.” I absently knead the leather in my hands with my fingertips. “After you left.”
Drusus nods. He moves past me and leans over a basin of water at the edge of the room.
“But why are you still in Pompeii?” I ask as he cups his hands in the water. “As a lanista, no less?”
He splashes water on his face a few times. “Where else could I go?” he asks over his shoulder. “Pompeii is all I’ve ever known, and the money Mother gave me would only go so far. So I stayed within the city, but as far from my parents’ house as I could.” He splashes more water on his face. “Mostly, I couldn’t leave my son behind. I just . . . couldn’t.” His gaze drifts around the room, and I’m certain he shudders as he whispers, “So I stayed here and did what I could to survive.”
“And the ludus?” I ask. “How did you get there from . . . from here?”
“Apparently the gods were feeling charitable,” he spits, snatching up a cloth from beside the basin. “Crispinus saw me fighting off two men twice my size. I shudder to think what would have happened if he’d not been there, but fortunately, he was.” Drusus rubs the cloth on his face. “He took me in, and I became his apprentice. He was killed, I took over, and here I am.”