I shrugged. “I just want to go home,” I said.
When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him. A night bird sang somewhere far off, and the firelight danced on Cai’s face. On the calluses of his palm, which he rubbed absentmindedly. I found myself staring at his hand, remembering the charcoal-on-vellum drawing of it he’d sent me. It was tucked away in my trunk back in my cell at the ludus.
“Home to the ludus, Cai,” I said.
He nodded and smiled at me—an uncertain expression that I wanted to stop with a kiss. A gulf of unspoken words seemed to have opened up between us, and I didn’t know how to cross it. Because standing on the bridge over that chasm was Aeddan. And right behind him, Kassandra. And behind her . . . shadows. Shapes of those I couldn’t make out but knew, somehow, that they’d come between Cai and me.
“We’re posting a sentry guard for the night,” Cai said, breaking the silence. “Me and Quint.”
I frowned. “Areto’s shown us hospitality in good faith,” I said. “I don’t want to do anything that might offend her.”
“It’s not Areto I’m worried about,” Cai said.
I couldn’t argue that point. Thalestris was out there somewhere. And Areto might trust that her pride or their code or the goddess Cybele herself would keep her from returning that night, but Cai was far too much an officer of the legions to place his trust in that alone. I didn’t blame him.
“We don’t need to dig a bank and ditch and set a perimeter guard,” he said. “I’ll settle for a single sentry up there.” He pointed to a place where the stone outcropping provided a natural vantage point. “See? Nice and discreet, and no offense offered to our gracious hostess. I’m taking first watch. Quint’ll take second.”
“I’ll take one,” I offered.
“You,” Cai said, raising an eyebrow at me, “will take your ease and get a good night’s sleep.”
“But—”
He put a finger to my lips. “You deserve it after that masterful bit of oration, Fallon,” he said. “Believe me. Caesar prides himself on his public speaking skills, and even he would have crowned you with laurels for that bit of brilliance . . .”
He seemed to notice then that he was still touching my lips. His gaze flicked from his finger to my eyes and back, and he ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth. I lifted a hand to his and turned his palm over so that I could rest my cheek against it. Cai made a sound, deep in his chest, and drew me into an embrace.
“Give yourself permission to rest, for once, Fallon,” he murmured into my hair. “And give others permission to be strong in your stead. I promise, they won’t disappoint you. I won’t.”
“I know,” I said.
I leaned against him, for as long as he would let me. Until he pushed me gently to arm’s length and bent his head to kiss me.
“First watch,” he said. “Remember?”
I looked up at him, telling myself that he wasn’t taking first watch to avoid finishing our conversation from the beach. “You can always come get me for a turn,” I said. “If you can’t pry Quint away from Elka.”
I nodded over to where, rather to my surprise, Elka had gone to sit by the little fire Quint had built.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cai said and, after kissing me one more time, stood and went to take his watch.
After he’d gone, I turned and saw the young fishergirl Amazon sitting alone, sharpening the blade of a dagger with a stone. She had not gone to join her sisters. I walked over to her and sank down and stretched out my hands toward the warmth of the fire. We sat in silence for a while until she finished sharpening her blade and tucked it back in the sheath at her hip.
“You fought well today,” I said, nodding at the weapon.
“Well, maybe.” She lifted a shoulder, staring into the flames. “But on the wrong side.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.” She shook her head. “I listened to Thalestris with deaf ears. Followed her with blind eyes.”
“In many ways, I understand the place where Thalestris is coming from,” I said. “I lived there myself for a long time. I used to think that honor was more important than anything. That righteous vengeance was the only way forward. I was foolish.”
“But what you said today was wise—and right.” She turned to me, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Those men who brought our mothers here against their wills are dead and gone, and yet we live on in isolation, scraping out a threadbare existence on fish and sand and our own pale whispers of a someday retribution. For what? From whom? When Thalestris brought your sister here—a mighty warrior who’d spilled the blood of our own—and bound her to the altar, I believed what she told us. I thought a sacrifice would make everything all right again. I see now that it wouldn’t have. I think the goddess would have turned from us forever.”
“I learned the hard way—I’m still learning—that every time I thought my goddess had abandoned me, it was in truth I who had turned away from her.” I put a hand on her arm. “You want a sacrifice? Make a sacrifice. Take a chance. Step outside the boundaries that have been placed around you, and make your lives your own.”
She fell silent then, and I could feel the weight of my words pressing heavily on her. I didn’t want to leave her with nothing but that burden. “What’s your name?” I asked.
She was silent for so long, I didn’t think she would tell me. But when I started to get up to leave, she said, “Kallista. My name’s Kallista.”
I sat back down and watched her for a moment as she went back to sharpening her blade. “Where did you learn to speak Latin, Kallista?” I asked, striving for a lighter tone. “I thought your tribe hated Rome—and all things Roman.”
“We do.” She shrugged, smiling a little now, but still staring into the heart of the fire. “I mean, they do . . . I’ve never been as sure. I was taught to hate them, but it’s hard to hate all Romans when some Romans are . . . kind.”
She reminded me so much of myself in that moment. I’d grown up hating Rome and Romans and one particular Roman most of all. And then that had all changed. Well—not all of it, maybe. I still didn’t understand the Roman mind and didn’t approve of a great deal of Roman culture, but I’d also met Romans like Cai and his father. Soldiers like Junius. I’d even found much to admire. Even—the Morrigan help me—in Julius Caesar himself.
The great bloody tyrant, who’d been kind to me.
“Who was kind to you?” I asked Kallista.
She turned her face to look at me and said, “My father.”
Of course. She must have been the progeny of one of the stolen boys from the other side of the island, and it wasn’t beyond believing that he might have been kind toward a daughter. Loving, even. I wondered . . .
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Secundus. His name is Secundus. Was.”
Secundus. The second son. The second out of five.