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  When the heat and lack of air finally passed the point of unbearable, she surfaced, and with her palms braced on the edge, she waited for her dizziness to pass. As her world began to slowly spin back into her control, booted feet approached the edge of the water. Their owner bent and gingerly placed a set of clothes on the nearest bench along with a towel. Immediately, she recognized the fabric of her chiton. Eyes flicking to his face, she saw something that rivaled concern. Seneca didn’t say anything. She didn’t either. His sympathy wasn’t welcome.

  Snatching the coarsest sponge within her reach, Persephone turned and began roughly scrubbing. She continued the process until every last inch of her was raw. Then she started over. It didn’t matter that her skin was angry and red, or that it cracked and bled. If she scoured off enough layers, maybe this time when they grew back, the holes would finally be filled and she could be born anew.

  * * * *

  In the retelling of Persephone’s story, and two full cups of wine, Augustine had finally calmed himself enough to join Cato at the table. Still, he continued to silently seethe. Truly, if the king were not critical to their plans in Galilae, he would kill the man immediately and without regret.

  “Are you not concerned about the lack of sanction for this undertaking?” Cato asked cautiously.

  Augustine was determined to follow this course of action until the end. As well as the two men knew each other, surely Cato knew it was unlikely he would talk him out of it, yet as much as it irked him, Augustine also knew that Cato had asked out of genuine concern rather than political scheming. When everything was plots and manipulations, it was easy to forget there were those on his side. The life of a soldier was much simpler, a thing he presently wished to return to. Needed to return to if he was to maintain his sanity.

  “Undoubtedly, the Sator will be pleased,” Augustine said, hoping it was true. It would only be so if Augustine was successful on both fronts. He would have to ensure that he was. “Two of the Great Kingdoms in one fell swoop.”

  “And what of Agrippa?”

  Though the Finctus had in fact sent messengers into Fortunata, Agrippa’s army lay in wait, prepared to take the kingdom by force should Barbarus refuse to bend knee. None expected him to enter into the Finctus willingly. The ruse of messengers and negotiations was more for the benefit of increasing the external pressures on Galilae than because they expected a pact with Fortunata. The plan had always been to take Fortunata by force after Galilae made the wedding pact known. Augustine’s newest machination did not change the grand scheme, only the timing of certain events, and the means by which the King of Fortunata’s end was delivered.

  “The glory will go to Agrippa. As it would have if we had held to our original scheme.” Augustine would not be swayed. He didn’t care if anyone other than Agrippa even knew he’d been there. He just wanted the king.

  “Alright, friend. What of Cade and the rest of the Division?”

  “I think it best they remain close to Galilae should they be needed hastily. I do not expect that to happen, but it is good to be cautious. Besides, I believe Agrippa capable of felling Fortunata without them. Especially as Barbarus thinks himself on amicable terms with the Finctus.”

  “Does the dishonesty of this trouble you?”

  “Far less than the dishonesty involved in taking Galilae.” Augustine preferred a more direct approach, though clearly he was not completely averse to an underhanded scheme when it was called for. “You have been a part of all tête-à-têtes with Luca, Sulla, and Titus. They should not be opposed to continuing to meet in my absence.”

  Cato nodded. “What would you have me tell them? They will wonder.”

  “Tell them I went to fetch them a gift. Proof of the Finctus’s commitment to peace with Galilae.”

  “And the Galanis family?”

  “Tell them I am indisposed. I think it best that Acheron is just as surprised as the rest of the Council.” Augustine felt a sort of malevolent glee at the thought. If he could not torture Acheron’s person, at least he could torment the man’s psyche.

  “Any message for Persephone?”

  Augustine sat back in his chair, feeling weary. “Tell her what you like, so long as you do not tell her where I’ve gone or what it is I do.”

  “Do you not think she deserves to know?”

  Augustine did think she deserved to know, but he did not believe she would appreciate the gesture. Knowing she would hear of the outcome eventually, he preferred to keep his role in things from her. “She knows about the marriage pact.” Augustine changed the subject, not wanting to address the question Cato had asked. Undoubtedly the change in topic did not escape Cato’s notice. “Find out who she has told and do what you can to convince her that going along with this is to the benefit of Galilae. I suspect it shall be a spectacular matching of wits between the two of you.”

  “I am not entirely convinced my wits are a match for hers,” Cato admitted grimly.

  Nor did Augustine, though he had no doubt it would be spectacular nonetheless.

  * * * *

  At her request, Augustine had allowed her to bathe unassisted. Persephone had wanted to avoid the pained look in her sister’s eyes, even if only for a little while. Though she knew it to be unavoidable in her room, she’d also hoped to prolong the time before she had to face her mother. Persephone felt weary all the way to the marrow of her bones. It was with a great sigh that she stepped into their room, knowing it was yet too early to hope that she could sneak in while everyone slept. At least her father and brother were still at the day’s Council meeting, so she wouldn’t have to face them as well.

  Before the door had even closed behind her, Persephone saw her mother’s eyes well with tears at the sight of her. Of course, the queen knew exactly what she looked upon. She had, after all, seen this behavior from her daughter before.

  “Do you wish to speak of it?” It was clear that her mother wanted to embrace her, but Persephone didn’t want to be touched and her mother knew it, so her hands remained fisted in her skirts.

  A barely imperceptible shake of her head and Persephone made her way to the nest she’d created for Kolimpri and herself. Curling into a ball with her back to the room, Persephone felt more than heard her mother join her on the floor.

  “Sister?” Abandoning whatever game she’d been playing, Kolimpri had made her way over as well and looked horror-struck at Persephone’s raw arms, not knowing that the skin hidden under her clothes thoroughly matched.

  “Persephone needs us to just be quiet for a bit, Koli.” Choked out, it hardly sounded like her mother’s voice. “Can you do that, sweetling?”

  Koli didn’t answer, just continued to stare with her lip trembling and big tears in her eyes. “Was there another misunderstanding?” Words spoken so hushed they were scarcely heard.

  Persephone had almost forgotten that she had called the bad things the Perdomans had done misunderstandings. She couldn’t decipher why this was one of the things that had stuck with Koli after only having been told the one time when other things needed to be repeated, but that was just how Koli was. It was also the easiest explanation, and Persephone latched onto it, nodding once in answer to the question.

  “Will you make it better?” Koli continued to whisper, following the instruction that they were to be quiet.

  If only Persephone knew how. She nodded a second time anyway. The lie was far preferable to the truth.

  Crawling forward, Kolimpri fashioned herself the little spoon. Persephone let her, folding protectively around her smaller frame. Gentle fingers combed through Persephone’s hair while her mother cried the tears she would no longer cry for herself.

  Chapter 4:

  Two Kinds of Secrets

  Lying to oneself is dangerous. Do it often enough and you begin to believe it.

  – Cato Numitor, Captain of the Nex Division

  Kolimpri stayed with Persephone as their mother spoke quietly to the soldier who always took her away. This was th
e first time he had not taken Persephone with him when he’d gone, though Koli had thought he might. He’d left without her, though, so Koli assumed Mama had told him to leave. Everyone listened to Mama.

  A short while later, the soldier came back. He brought a friend with him this time. Koli stood, leaving Persephone’s side, and stomped over to the two men.

  “Go ’way! Sister stays here.”

  Her mother grabbed her arm, pulling Koli back and shushing her. “Do not worry, sweetling. They have brought things that will help us to make Persephone well.”

  At her mother’s words, Koli noticed the jars and towels they carried. Instantly forgetting her anger, Koli looked curiously at the supplies. “What did you bring me?”

  “These are not for you, sweetling, they are for Persephone,” Mama explained patiently. “And that was very rude of you. What do we say when we are rude?”

  Blushing at the reprimand, Koli dropped into a slight curtsy. “Apologies.”

  The soldier she recognized smiled at her as he set things down on the table. “All is forgiven, Princess. Your sister is fortunate to have you here to protect her.” He looked over Koli’s shoulder when he was finished speaking and nodded.

  When Koli turned, she saw that Persephone was awake. Koli twirled her skirts, pleased with the compliment and the smile on Persephone’s face. She liked making her sister happy. Koli wanted to grow up to be just like her.

  Persephone didn’t get up from her spot on the floor, but she beckoned Koli with her hand. “Come here, Little Bird. This is the perfect opportunity for a lesson.”

  Koli heard the door close and the key turn as she made her way back to Persephone’s side. Mama followed, bringing with her one of the smaller vessels.

  “Sit by me, sweetling. Watch and listen.”

  Settling herself near Persephone’s hip, she watched eagerly as Mama scooped a green paste onto her fingertips.

  “Alright, Koli,” Mama started, “this paste was made with arnica, a kind of flower. I will teach you how to make the paste another time, but what you want to remember about it is that it will help to decrease bruising and swelling when applied topically.” Mama gently dabbed the paste onto a dark and swollen bruise on Persephone’s cheek as she spoke. “Do you know what topically means?” Mama asked her.

  Kolimpri did not know and shook her head, still watching curiously as Mama continued to gently apply the cream to Persephone’s face.

  “Topically means on the skin,” Mama explained. “Now, can you say topically?”

  “Topcly,” Koli repeated as best she could.

  Both Persephone and Mama smiled. “Very good, Little Bird,” Persephone praised her. “And, once more, what does topically mean?”

  “On the skin,” Koli answered quickly. She wanted to touch the paste and help. Reaching out, she touched Persephone’s cheek with a single finger and imitated the same actions she had watched Mama doing.

  Persephone smiled. “Thank you, Little Bird. You are a very good helper.”

  Koli smiled brightly. “Now I kiss it?”

  Persephone always kissed her injuries and Koli wanted to do the same.

  “The arnica might taste bad. How about a kiss right here?” Persephone tilted her head so that her unbruised cheek faced Koli, who leaned down and placed a wet kiss there. “Thank you, Little Bird. I am beginning to feel better already.”

  “Now, what is this?” Mama asked, indicating the larger of the two jars.

  “Honey!” Kolimpri blurted out excitedly. She recognized the jar immediately. Para used to give her spoonfuls when they passed through the kitchen. It had been a long time since she’d had any, and Koli was hoping she would get some today.

  “Of course it is.” Mama smiled widely. “You like honey very much, do you not?” Koli nodded as she eyed the treat hopefully. “We like honey because it tastes yummy, but it is also good for healing. Do you see how Persephone’s arms are red and scratched?”

  Koli looked back to Persephone’s hurt skin and felt the smile fall from her face. She nodded so Mama would know she was still listening, but she spoke to her sister. “You may have all my honey.”

  Persephone grabbed Koli’s hand and kissed her palm. “That is very thoughtful of you, Little Bird.”

  “Honey can help to speed up the healing of wounds, so we will put it where the scratches and the redness are worst. Would you like to help?” Mama asked and Koli nodded again. “We have to be careful, because Persephone’s skin probably hurts and honey is very sticky, so we use lots so that it does not pull. Then we cover it with these bandages so that nothing that is not supposed to sticks to her. Do you understand, sweetling?”

  “I will be careful.”

  “I know you will be, Little Bird. Thank you for helping.”

  It was a slow process, but together the three of them slathered honey over the places that looked worst. Mama assured her it did not matter if they made a mess of the bedding as they had been promised replacements after they were finished. It was a good thing too because they made quite a large mess. So much so that Mama insisted Koli would sleep with her rather than Persephone that night.

  When they finished, Persephone’s eyelids were drooping. She looked sleepy. “What part of the day is it?”

  “Nearly dinnertime. I expect your father and brother shall return shortly.”

  Persephone nodded at the news. “Who did you ask for the supplies?”

  “The soldier who always escorts you.”

  “Seneca,” Persephone supplied the name.

  Koli would try to remember. Seneca seemed nice. At least he wasn’t as scary as some of the others were.

  “Yes, Seneca. He stopped by while you slept to see if you might be in need of anything.”

  Suddenly, Persephone’s eyes opened wide. She no longer looked as though she might fall asleep at any moment. “And I did not wake?!”

  “You had a trying day from the looks of it and you have not been sleeping near enough. Your body needed to rest.”

  “Yes,” Persephone agreed, looking sad. “We should speak later.”

  Mama nodded with tears that Koli didn’t understand rolling down her cheeks. “We will speak. Later. For now, rest.”

  * * * *

  Seraphime’s entire morning routine was thrown off. Rather than going directly to the courtyard for stochasmos, she had been escorted to the bathhouse with nary a word. She knew nothing about what was happening or why plans had been changed. For a moment, she wondered if maybe their waiting had finally come to an end – if the next step of the plan would be revealed and they would finally be allowed the opportunity to counter. As soon as she saw Persephone, any such thoughts evaporated. She knew exactly why their routine had been adjusted. Tears welled in her eyes at the side of the pink skin showing through the copious bandages wrapping Persephone’s limbs.

  “When did you do this?” she asked, gingerly helping her sister into the water. The bandages would disengage from her skin with greater ease once wet. To try and peel them as they were would have removed as much skin as linen.

  Persephone sighed, but did not answer. Obviously she had done it yesterday. This had been the regular state of Persephone’s skin for a full year after Barbarus had assaulted her.

  “Did the general?” She didn’t want to finish the statement. What could she say? Did he force himself on her? Rape her? Persephone had agreed to a sexual arrangement with him, so could such be claimed? Seraphime thought so, but did not know that Persephone would agree. Undoubtedly his men would not, assuming they cared about Persephone’s consent at all.

  Persephone shook her head in denial. “This is the result of the dredging of memories, not new action.”

  Wishing there was more she could do, Seraphime nodded in understanding. She wanted to say something of comfort, but experience told her Persephone would not welcome any attempts. She was far too bent on refusing to acknowledge anything had happened most of the time and holding herself responsible the rest.

>   Gingerly, Seraphime removed the soiled bandages and, using the softest sponge, rubbed the remaining residue from Persephone’s skin.

  “Old memories did not mar your cheek,” Seraphime said discreetly.

  “No. I did something I should not have. Best not to talk about it.” With a quick glance, Persephone subtly indicated the guards monitoring them.

  Angry on Persephone’s behalf and angrier at herself for her helplessness in the matter, Seraphime continued to press for information. “Any other injuries?”

  “Not this time.”

  The resigned way Persephone said it clearly advertised that she believed there would be a next time. The worst part was not that she was probably correct, but that she didn’t care.

  * * * *

  As promised, Augustine left before the rising of the sun, leaving Cato in command of running operations within the palace. Persephone’s morning routine had been restructured to accommodate bathing before the morning’s stochasmos as she had been left a sticky mess after her honey balm. He hadn’t seen her yet, but Seneca had been quite colorful in his description of her ravaged skin. Damage she had done to herself. A wave of sympathy passed in remembrance of Augustine’s retelling. He did not fault the man for pursuing justice.

  Persephone entered the room dressed in a slave’s pieto, her usual attire for her proclaimed meditation. Her skin was pink starting from the tips of her toes and ending at her neck just underneath her jaw. The angry red Seneca had described was reserved for the meandering scratches that striated her body. It seemed the honey had helped.

  “You left your face untouched,” he observed.

  She had, even if Augustine had not. There was an ugly bruise on her right cheek. Augustine had mentioned striking her, but would not speak of her offense. If he was unwilling to tell even Cato what it had been, likely that meant it was a grave one, but he was unwilling to exact a harsher punishment. A part of Cato understood, even as another part of him worried over how Persephone would react. If she believed Augustine soft or incapable of doing what he claimed, she would undoubtedly make herself more troublesome than she already was.