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  “When was your last moonblood?”

  It wasn’t the question she had expected him to ask, and the brazen nature of the inquiry brought her full attention back to him. As much as she wanted to see Seraphime, she also couldn’t answer honestly without alerting him to her condition. If she lied, would he spot it as easily as Augustine seemed to be able to? But what could she tell him? He knew she and Augustine had been intimate daily until he’d left and she’d continued to practice stochasmos after he was gone, which would have been impossible without making a mess of herself even with cotton wads stuffed into her subligaria. She considered telling him that she expected to begin this week, but if he didn’t believe her and demanded proof, she would have no way of providing it, which would confirm what she did not want him to know. Fuck. As much as she wanted to see Seraphime, she needed to deflect him. There was nothing she could do to assuage his suspicion entirely, so the best she could do would be to not provide him with confirmation.

  “That is not of concern to you, Captain,” she replied, insolence slipping easily into her tone.

  He said nothing of her disrespect. “Nearly everything about you is of concern to me.”

  Persephone found herself smiling at the double meaning that could be taken from his words. He had learned to play her games well, and quickly. A rare thing.

  “Do you mean to tell me that I alarm you, Captain? Or that everything about me is your business?”

  “I thought you would catch that.” He did not tell her which interpretation was the intended. Probably that meant both. “You did not answer the question.”

  “No.” Persephone smiled wider and relaxed further into her seat.

  “Do you not miss your sister, Princess?”

  “I saw her in our room just this morning,” she said, imitating something she’d told Augustine when he’d still been trying to trick her into admitting her relationship with Seraphime.

  “Persephone.” His tone held a reprimand.

  “Captain,” she retorted with a smirk.

  “Seneca mentioned you’ve a newfound interest in adding raspberries to your diet,” he continued, changing his approach, but not his focus. “Tell me, Princess, when I ask Seraphime about your preferences, will she inform me that you seek the berries themselves or the tea brewed from their leaves?”

  If he was asking, he knew what the tea was used for. Persephone had asked only about raspberries, knowing that when Para inquired about her likings, Seraphime would understand it was in fact the tea that interested her. It would help to settle her stomach.

  “I do not follow your meaning, Captain,” she said, feigning boredom and confusion.

  “I think you do.”

  “Is there something in particular you might like to ask me?”

  He smiled humorlessly. “Would you answer honestly?”

  “I always say exactly what I mean, Captain.”

  “As do I, Princess. So allow me to speak clearly. If you tell me the truth about why you have such a sudden craving for raspberries, I will procure them for you. If you lie, or choose to remain silent, then you will likely be facing some very uncomfortable mornings.”

  It wasn’t just the mornings that were uncomfortable; the urge to vomit stayed with her all day. “Morning is my favorite time of day, Captain.”

  Even though she believed he would provide the tea if she told the truth, this was a secret Persephone was as of yet unwilling to reveal.

  “Just as I thought.”

  “Have we finished, then?” she asked.

  “It would seem we have.” She rose to leave, but his words halted her. “But, Persephone” – with her hand suspended halfway to the door, she turned to look at him – “it does not matter that you will not acknowledge what we both know to be true.” His eyes flicked to her stomach before he recaptured her gaze. “Some secrets have a way of revealing themselves.”

  * * * *

  “Your mistress has forsaken you.”

  Seraphime did her best to ignore Falco’s cruel voice. He’d not laid a hand on her, but ever since she’d bested him in the courtyard, he’d taken to seeking her out during the day. Since he wasn’t allowed to do what he really wanted to her, he took his ire out by taunting her mercilessly. This day, he had come into the pantry while she and Para had been helping to prepare the food for the night’s meal.

  All of Seraphime’s contact with Persephone had come through Para the past week. She didn’t know what had happened between the general and her sister that had spurred the change, only that they were being denied access to one another and Para had been assigned to assist Persephone when it was called for. Para had just returned to the kitchen after helping Persephone bathe and had started talking of obtaining raspberries for the palace. It sounded like Persephone had asked for them and had given Para some kind of instruction to ask Seraphime something, but Para had been speaking quickly and out of order and while Seraphime was still working to decipher what had happened, she had spotted Falco heading their direction. Wanting Para out of his reach, Seraphime had immediately ordered the younger girl out of the room with instructions to find a task and hide behind it. Para had slipped out of the back door, and while Falco had likely seen her, she hadn’t been his target so he’d not pursued her.

  Instead, Falco had ordered away Otho, the guard that had been assigned to Seraphime early in the siege. To his credit, Otho had objected, but it would seem Falco outranked him and had overruled the protest. His visits had been occurring daily for a week and this was the first time he’d removed her from Otho’s presence, which had immediately lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. The whole situation reeked of danger.

  “If she has forsaken you, it is only a matter of time before you are made fair game, slave. Will you fight just as hard when each of us takes a turn forcing our cocks inside you?”

  Her heart beat faster.

  “I hope you do.” Falco pressed closer.

  Seraphime moved to step around him, but he sidestepped, blocking her path. From this close, she could smell the wine on his breath. This was bad. If he was drunk, he might forget about the fact that she had been deemed untouchable, and by Galilae’s own laws, she’d be completely unable to defend herself without forfeiting her own life. The punishment for a slave who raised a hand against a free person was execution by stoning. Though, given what Falco would undoubtedly do to her, she’d prefer death, even one as drawn out and painful as stoning.

  “Do you know why?” The fact that she had not looked at him nor responded to anything he said did nothing to deter him.

  She took a step backward, which he immediately traced, re-closing the space between them.

  “Because you will be tighter, if you resist.”

  She took another step, which he also followed. If he so much as laid a finger on her, she was going to kill him.

  “Falco!” The captain’s voice cracked between them and Falco immediately stood at attention.

  Seraphime stepped quickly away from him, and for the first time he didn’t follow. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed at the intercession. Falco deserved to die, and she would gladly be the one to see him to his end.

  “What are you doing?” The captain’s question was directed at Falco. If he needed to ask, he clearly hadn’t heard the way Falco had just been talking to her. Either that or he didn’t care.

  “Just relieving Otho for a time,” Falco lied.

  Seraphime clenched her teeth, but held her tongue.

  “This is not one of your assignments.”

  “He said he would return shortly.”

  Seraphime took a deep breath and shifted agitatedly. That was not what had happened, but to claim otherwise would be to put a female slave’s word against a male soldier’s. Speaking out wouldn’t just be foolish, it would be completely asinine.

  The captain made a noncommittal sound. Did he doubt Falco? Seraphime didn’t know him well enough to tell.

  “I will see to Seraph
ime from here. You are dismissed.”

  Falco nodded. “Should you need me –”

  “I will not. We will share words later, though.”

  Falco scowled, but nodded once more before walking away. The captain continued to watch until he was gone from the room before turning back to Seraphime. As he turned, he raised his hand to lift her chin and, still on edge, she startled, flinching slightly at the gentle contact. With his thumb, he turned her face first one way, then the other. Then his eyes did a scan of her body, head to toe. She hated being examined so closely – it never meant anything good for a slave – but his assessment didn’t feel lewd or threatening. He was checking for injuries, she realized.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  His question confirmed her inference. At some point, her mouth had gone dry, so she shook her head before dropping her gaze. It seemed pointless after he’d observed her at the sparring match, but it was still customary and habitual for her when she was in this role.

  “No need to pretend, Seraphime. We both know your image as a good little slave is an illusion.”

  She lifted her eyes and he dropped his hand. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she waited silently.

  “What was he doing here?” the captain asked.

  “He told you what he was doing here.”

  “What he told me was a lie, and a poorly executed one. What was he really doing here?”

  Seraphime still wasn’t sure it was wise to speak ill of one of his soldiers. Even if the captain believed her – which it appeared he probably would – if he took action against Falco because of something she said, Falco would undoubtedly retaliate. It was not necessary to feed further fuel to that fire.

  “I am a slave, sir. He is not required to inform me of his intentions, nor ask my permission. He may do what pleases him.”

  “No, he may not. Not with you.”

  “Just with everyone else?” She could only hope that the captain had meant it when he said she need not pretend, because her accusation had been exceedingly reckless.

  “Speaking of others, where is Para? Should she not be here?” he asked, completely ignoring the impropriety of her last statement.

  “I sent her away when he came in,” Seraphime admitted and waited for the reprimand.

  “Where did you send her?”

  “Anywhere else.”

  Understanding simmered in his gaze. “So you do not know where she went?”

  Seraphime shook her head. It was the truth. “Should I find Para for you, sir?”

  “No. Did she ask for anything before you sent her away?”

  He was fishing for something, but what? Did he know Persephone had asked for raspberries? When Falco had come in, everything had happened very quickly, and Seraphime had not had an opportunity to think about what Para had been saying until the captain had asked about her.

  Seraphime put on her best confused expression. “Ask me for anything? I do not understand, sir. What might she have asked me for?”

  “You tell me.”

  “She said something about getting raspberries for the palace,” Seraphime said, still feigning confusion. If he spoke with Para, she would admit the same, so Seraphime’s story needed to match. “But she did not ask for anything.”

  “How does Persephone prefer her raspberries?”

  It was a strange question, as most people just ate the berries. One thing was certain, Persephone hated raspberries. If she was asking about them, what she was really asking for was the tea to settle her stomach. Persephone was pregnant. That was the message for Seraphime and this is what the captain was fishing for; it had to be. He knew, or at least suspected, and was looking for confirmation. Seraphime was sure Persephone would never openly admit the fact, so she would not out her sister either.

  “Every way she can get them.” Seraphime smiled innocently, adding a slight tilt to her head to enhance the effect.

  He allowed a small laugh. “You are so like your sister. I do not play her games, and I will not play yours either, Seraphime. No raspberries until one of you decides to be honest.”

  That would never happen. Seraphime wondered if he knew peppermint might also be effective, and whether or not she would be able to come up with some.

  Chapter 7:

  Time Discloses All

  It could be argued that prostitution and politics are opposite sides of the same coin.

  – Sulla “the Silver-Tongue” of House Androulakis, Council Member of Galilae

  As had been well practiced over the past weeks, the conspiring Council members discreetly snuck away as everyone exited the Grand Council Chamber so they could reconvene in the Small Council Chamber. Over the first two weeks, they’d met with Augustine and Cato individually and in secret. As the session drew to a close, and with Augustine out of Galilae, Cato had finally begun meeting with the three of them as a group, though still very much in secret. This was to be their last intrigue before the final Council meeting of the season, two days hence.

  “Your general has been absent for near a fortnight. Are you sure he will be returning in time for our final meeting?” Titus asked.

  “I can understand your concern,” Cato placated diplomatically. “I assure you, he will return in time.”

  The fact was, Augustine had already returned. He’d arrived not long before the Council meeting had let out. After discussing the matter, both he and Cato had agreed it would be best if all Council members looked surprised at his arrival. Whenever possible, they did not like to rely on the skills of others to play a contrived part. Providing opportunity for authenticity was critical to ensuring believability. It would already be risky enough, expecting what they did of the king and the prince, though to be fair, the two had done surprisingly well at not rousing suspicions in spite of the fact that it seemed the boy tried to subtly do so as opportunities presented themselves. Decimus had quickly begun to ensure that opportunities never arose.

  “And what of this gift you claim him to be bringing us?” Luca asked. He asked every time they met since it had first been mentioned, though Cato remained tight-lipped about it.

  “As I have explained, it is best if you all are just as surprised as everyone else by Augustine’s offering. What matters most is the present mood of the Council. How does it fare?”

  Sulla smiled slyly and sipped his wine. “As expected.”

  Known to the other Council members as “silver-tongued,” Sulla did not disappoint. Cato respected him, even if he didn’t entirely trust him. Ensuring his loyalty meant ensuring they remained the highest bidder. Not an easy task. Fortunately, Galilae’s treasury was well stocked. The looming threat of the Reaper didn’t hurt either.

  “With nothing else to occupy our concerns this season, and the threat of the Finctus and Fortunata looming large, fear runs rampant,” Sulla elaborated.

  “You think the timing right, then?” Cato asked.

  Sulla shrugged carelessly. “When is the timing ever right for such a dramatic change? There are those who will reject it, but I do believe there are enough who hold sufficient fear to support it over the alternative. The key is that the king supports it. If Acheron speaks out against it, we will be looking at war.”

  “You will be looking at a massacre,” Cato corrected.

  “Should it come to that, I do hope you will remember those who have supported you since the first,” Luca inserted firmly.

  “Not to worry,” Cato reassured them. “Your job was to pave the way in the Council. Our job was to sway the king. Augustine is nothing if not persuasive. We will see to it that Acheron plays his part.”

  They would be speaking with Acheron and the rest of his family about their parts after tomorrow’s Council meeting. When Cato had spoken with Augustine on his return and they’d updated one another as they finalized plans, Cato had specifically refrained from sharing his suspicion – certainty, he corrected grimly – that Persephone was with child. In spite of what he had just said, if the king resisted, Cato alre
ady harbored serious doubts that Augustine would be able to do what was necessary to persuade him. The lie of omission was Cato’s way of easing Augustine’s way. If the worst happened, Cato would ensure he never learned the truth.

  “There is another matter.” Titus met Cato’s gaze imploringly. “That of the princess, Persephone.”

  “What of her?” Cato did not think anyone in the kingdom truly knew of, or understood, her rebellious nature.

  “The Treasure of Galilae,” Luca supplied helpfully.

  “I am aware of how she is called throughout the kingdom. What is the concern?”

  “There is concern about the well-being of the queen as well as both princesses, what with Princess Kolimpri’s extended illness, and the close proximity of her caregivers,” Sulla explained. “That no one has even caught a glimpse of any of them is alarming, to say the least. If a marriage pact were to suddenly be proposed by the Finctus – whom our king has always adamantly spoken against – when there are other circumstances that already feel suspicious, I fear it would rouse misgivings that this whole thing has been contrived. Especially if our mighty king were to suddenly recant his earlier vitriol and lay down his crown. The whole thing reeks of foul play.”

  Cato sat back in his chair, considering everything he’d just heard. It was unsettling, but needed to be considered. Suddenly an idea started to take root. “And what if someone else were to suggest the marriage pact? Someone within the Council?”

  “That might help.” Luca stroked his chin thoughtfully as he spoke. “But we will need to provide enough incentive for them to agree to it. As you know, Persephone is well loved, and many would fight before seeing her married to someone as feared as the Reaper.”

  With a sigh, Cato sank into his chair. He was so ready for this to be over and done with. Scheming and waiting were exhausting. “What would you suggest?”

  “We must ensure that they fear an invasion more than they fear the man,” Sulla offered.