Titus nodded, and Galerius left. Varro followed, stating he needed to see to dinner.
Marcus lingered. “I’m sorry if I was out of line.”
“You were the one who told me I was no good without her.” He poured a glass of wine for his friend. “I should have expected this kind of resistance. Azurha warned me it would happen if I tried to make her my wife.”
Marcus’s jaw fell slack. “Did you really mention marriage to her?”
“Yes, and she flat out refused me.” He kicked a cushion across the room, her rejection still stinging his soul. “Told me I was sacrificing my crown by marrying her. But do you want to know the strange thing about it? I would rather have her than be emperor.”
Marcus let out a low whistle. “I knew you’d fallen for her, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” He took a drink. “So what’s next?”
He drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, letting it drain the frustration from him. “Maybe I need to follow my mother’s advice and be patient.”
“Sounds like a good plan. It will give us time to figure out who’s behind the assassination attempts.”
Titus set his glass aside and rubbed his face. So much had happened in less than a month, he wondered if his life would ever resume the sense of normalcy he once knew. “Any news on that?”
“A bit.”
Titus became so engrossed in Marcus’s leads that he almost didn’t notice Azurha slip into the room when Varro brought dinner. He caught a hint of a smile from her, but she didn’t interrupt them as she went directly into his bed chambers to wait for him. He almost got up to follow her, but Marcus snapped his fingers and drew him back into the conversation. Azurha would be there for him when they finished. Right now, it was more important to try and figure out who wanted them dead.
They talked in circles for hours, and by the end of it, Titus knew little more than he had before he left. Someone wanted him dead, and only a handful of nobles could afford the bounty that had been placed on him. All of them had ties to the Imperial family. But so far, there was no definite clue that singled out one of them as the mastermind behind the attacks. If anything, he felt more paranoid than he did a few days ago. Which one of his numerous cousins wanted his throne?
He crept quietly into the bedroom, but as soon as he came within a foot of the bed, Azurha opened her eyes. He ran his finger along her cheek, searching for the right thing to say as a storm of emotions swirled inside him. So much had happened today. Too many things had shaken his confidence and made him question the people around him. He’d faced disappointment, fear, and found an inner rage he hadn’t known existed. But once thing remained constant. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
The corners of her mouth twitched, gently at first before blooming into a full grin. She reached up and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer to her until her lips touched his.
23
Azurha lay in Titus’s bed, counting the tiles in the ceiling while listening to the first bird songs of the morning. Today was her deadline, the day she was supposed have delivered a dead emperor. No matter how tightly she bundled the covers around her, she couldn’t shake the shiver of dread that clawed up her back and nestled into her heart. For the first time in her career, she’d failed to complete a job, but that didn’t worry her as much as wondering who would step into her place.
She crept out of bed and scanned the rooftops surrounding the emperor’s private courtyard. Just like the night before, members of the Legion stood guard there, nearly three times the number as normal. Yesterday’s attack on Titus’s airship seemed to have set them on edge. Their hyper-vigilance made sneaking out of the palace to slaughter Pontus before he hired another assassin nearly impossible. She was as trapped here as she would be if they had taken her into the prison.
The rustle of the sheets made her jump, and she silently cursed. The members of the Legion weren’t the only ones on edge. She kept waiting for another assassin to burst through the doors. Or worse, for someone to reveal what she really was to Titus. Either way, she couldn’t continue like this.
“Azurha?” Titus called. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his golden hair sticking out in every direction.
A sob formed in her throat. How much longer would this fantasy last? The ugly truth would have to come out eventually, and then what? She gathered her courage and prayed to the gods her voice wouldn’t reveal her fear when she spoke. “Yes?”
“Why are you up so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” The simple, honest truth for once. Even after they’d made love until he collapsed in exhaustion, her thoughts made rest nearly impossible. What if someone slipped in and slit their throats the moment she closed her eyes? Or dripped poison into their open mouths? It was nights like this that made her wish she wasn’t so knowledgeable about her profession.
He held out his hand to her, beckoning her back into the warmth of his arms. “What do I need to do to help you sleep better?”
Her mind clouded over in a lustful haze for a brief moment. It would be so easy to lie in his arms and forget about the rest of the outside world. When he’d told her he loved her again last night, she almost wanted to believe there was a chance for a future between the two of them. When he covered her body with kisses and took her to the brink of pleasure over and over again, she forgot about all the reasons why she couldn’t marry him. She wanted to be his wife and stay by his side more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life.
But in the cold grey light of morning, doubt replaced her hope. Both their lives hung in jeopardy because she’d lost her heart to him. Her professional reputation had been destroyed the moment she turned on her kind and sided with her victim. To reveal who hired her would bring the wrath of every assassin in the empire upon her. They thrived on silence, and if she violated it, she became a threat to all of them. She refused to bring that turmoil to Titus.
Azurha meandered toward the bed as she weighed all the possible consequences of her actions. She couldn’t sneak out of the palace now to take out Pontus, but maybe there would be an opportunity when Titus left for the games held in honor of this coronation.
Patience
, she scolded herself.
Better to wait for the perfect second to strike then attack too soon and fail.
She took his hand and crawled into bed next to him. She wanted to enjoy what few last moments of pleasure she could grasp. The steady beat of his heart filled her ears when she pressed her head against his chest. So strong, so calm, so vibrant. So very hard to tear herself away from.
He stroked her hair. “What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing,” she automatically replied.
“I don’t believe you.” He pushed her off his chest and lifted her chin. “You look like you expect me to punish you in some brutal way.”
Not too far from the truth.
“Have I sunk to the level of your old master?”
“Never.” She pounced on him and pressed him into the pillows. “I worry that this will all end soon, that’s all.”
“There’s one way to ensure that this won’t end.”
As soon as she saw the playful smile on his lips, she knew what he was thinking. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“And I’m not accepting that answer. One day, I’ll change your mind. Then you won’t have to worry about when you’ll have to leave.”
“No, I’ll just have to worry about which one of your nobles has hired an assassin to kill the both of us.”
He sat up, a frown replacing his grin from seconds before, and she realized too late that she’d revealed more than she intended. “How much have you overheard about the assassins?”
“Nothing more than what I had already figured out on my own.” She held her breath, hoping he’d accept her answer. When the tension eased from his face, she continued, “From what I know about Rulf, he wouldn’t have risked his neck unless he was expecting a large reward, and very few men in the empire could provide that type of bounty.”
Titus’s eyes narrowed, and her throat tightened. “And how did you come to know about Rulf?”
“I’ve gotten around the empire since I gained my freedom.” She reached for her robe. If this interrogation continued for much longer, she might just tell him everything and make a mad dash for the palace walls before the members of the Legion mowed her down.
He caught her wrist before she left the bed. “Doing what?”
“Surviving.” She yanked her hand free and tugged her robe on.
The slap of his bare feet signaled that he was following her into the main chambers. “What are you hiding, Azurha?”
She froze. This was her chance, her moment to tell him about her past, about Pontus’s plot to kill him and take the throne. But she was too much of coward to take that chance. She opened her mouth to give him some lie, but her voice refused to work. Nothing other than the truth would do. She drew in a deep breath. He deserved to hear it from her, after all. “Titus, I—”
Varro’s entrance spared her from the gut-wrenching confession that sat poised on her tongue. His dark eyes surveyed the scene, and his posture stiffened. “Am I interrupting something, Emperor Sergius?”
“No,” they both replied, and some of the tension eased from her knotted muscles. Thankfully, Titus didn’t want to air their spat in front of the steward, either.
“Very good, Emperor Sergius.” He set a carved wooden box on the table closest to the door and held up a familiar cup. “Your morning tea, Lady Azurha.”
A knot formed in the center of her gut, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. She balled her fist and pressed it against her stomach to keep the bile from rising into her throat. How many days had passed since she last drank the pomrutin tea? What if she became pregnant with Titus’s child?
“There’s no need for that, Varro.” Titus grabbed the cup and dumped the contents into a potted lemon tree in the courtyard. “Do not bring her this anymore.”
Azurha was certain her face reflected the same slack-jawed expression of shock that Varro wore. Was Titus purposely trying to sire a child through her? Before she could argue against his orders, he disappeared into his bath.
…
Titus’s skin had started burning long before he jumped into the steaming waters of the caldarium. He had no idea what came over him, why he ordered Varro to stop serving Azurha the tea that would prevent her from conceiving his child, but the mere thought of her taking those types of precautions rankled his very core. He wanted her to be more than his wife now. He wanted her to be the mother of his children, and the weight of that revelation nearly made his knees give out from under him. He dove into the bath before he landed in a heap on the floor.
The splash of the water shook some of the doubt from him. He’d done the right thing. Once her belly grew round, she’d agree to marry him, if only to protect her child. He was certain of it. He swam to the other end of the pool, climbed out, and jumped into the cooler waters of the tepidarium. With each stroke, he grew more comfortable with his plan.
Varro waited at the other end, his expression blank. Titus swam over to him. “Say it.”
“Say what, Emperor Sergius?” the steward replied with mock innocence lacing his voice.
“You don’t approve of my decision.”
“It’s not my place to say if I approve or disapprove of your decisions. You are the emperor, and the empire bends to your Will.” He handed Titus a towel.
“But it doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”
Varro paused, appearing to weigh his words as carefully as any politician. “I think patience is valued more than rash decision and coercion, Your Imperial Majesty. Your official coronation is tomorrow, and if you wish to make changes to the empire, a gradual approach is much easier to accept than a revolution.”
Titus let his words swirl around in his head, noting how they echoed the advice he’d received from his mother, from Marcus, and even Azurha. “What would you advise me to do?”
Varro’s brow winkled. “Emperor Sergius, I am your head steward, not one of your advisors. I’m sure you could find a more clever man to give you advice.”
“Perhaps I want to hear the thoughts of a man of experience instead.”
“Then I have already shared them with you.” He held out a fresh tunic. “You mother sent a box for Lady Azurha this morning. Is there any reason I shouldn’t give it to her?”
Images of the severed rabbit’s head flashed in front of his eyes. “Are you certain it came from my mother?”
Varro nodded. “I recognized the messenger as one of her servants.”
“Then I see no reason why you should withhold it from her.” He pulled the tunic over his head, trying to appear calm when his curiosity demanded that he inspect the contents of his mother’s gift.
Titus hurried back to the main chambers and found Azurha sitting in a chair, her curled fingers covering her mouth while her chin rested in the palm of her hand. The same worried expression he’d seen far too many times over the last two days gripped her face. He silently cursed the growing seed of doubt that was taking root inside him. He wanted to trust her, but until she was honest with him, he couldn’t silence the questions that shook his confidence.
She saw him and lifted her head. A false smile smoothed over her features, never reaching her eyes. She stood and turned to Varro. “I would like to bathe in the harem this morning.”
His chest tightened. Yet another instance of her increasing the distance between them. He wanted to demand she tell him why she was acting this way in the light of morning when she responded to his touch under the cover of night like a woman in love. Nothing made sense anymore.
Varro’s eyes flicked to Titus before they returned to her. “I apologize, but I’m afraid we did not warm the waters of the harem baths since it is currently unoccupied. I will send a couple of slaves to tend to your bath, Lady Azurha. In the meantime, Empress Horatia sent this.” He retrieved the carved wooden box he’d entered with this morning.
Azurha regarded the box with the same suspicion Titus would, especially considering the contents of the last gift she received. She opened the lid and drew in a sharp breath. “I cannot accept this gift.”
“Are you refusing my mother’s generosity?” But when he peered over her shoulder, he understood her hesitation. Nestled inside the silk lining was his mother’s coronation crown.
Her cheeks became pale, and she stepped back from the box. “This is meant for someone far more deserving than me. A Deizian woman. An Empress.”
The bitterness that laced her words tugged at his heart. Did she not see that she was more deserving of this crown than any Deizian woman? His mother’s gift bore testimony to her approval of his choice of Empress. Now he needed to convince Azurha that she was worthy of such a title. He pulled the crown out and placed it on her head.
“No, please don’t do this, Titus.”
“You will not dishonor my mother and refuse her gift. You will wear this today when you accompany me to the games.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Azurha. I order you to wear this crown, and you will do so.”
The iron-willed defiance that curled her lips into a snarl might have a made a weaker-willed man retract his decision, but he refused to be intimidated by her. He was emperor, after all, and it was time he started acting like it. “When I return, you will be dressed appropriately and ready to leave.”
He turned to leave and managed to take a few steps before she replied, “I am not a slave for you to order around.”
He stopped and weighed her words, wondering if he had crossed the line. The last thing he wanted to do was morph into her master. “No, but you are my consort, and it’s time the empire knew it. Please do not disappoint me.”
Silence answered him as he left.