Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3)

At first, I didn't dare go any closer to him and looked at him only from a distance. Not because of any danger to my life, but because of the danger to my emotions. I couldn't bear to see him this way.

Yet he had asked me to tell his story, and so I knew I had to go to him. He lay on his back between the three shattered pieces of the altar, with two arms and a leg over each of the three shards and the other leg lying on the floor.

The lightning had completely destroyed the sandal on his right leg, which was bare now, but the left sandal was still there. I noticed and thought this was important because it was how I'd known Nic ever since our first meeting: With one foot in the life of a free man and the other still in bondage. I wished I had another pair of sandals for him. Wasn't he free now, finally? Maybe not the way he wanted, but he was free.

With that thought, I collapsed beside him, nearly blinded by hot tears that stung my eyes and ripped at my heart. I had never known pain like this, never known it was possible to feel this way and still survive it.

It took a bolt of lightning to end Nic's life. I felt as if I had been struck with the same force of destruction, except I would have to go on.

But not yet.

I took Nic's hand in mine. The tips of his fingers were still smoking and felt warm to the touch, but only for the intense heat that had just traveled through him. Nothing more.

As the dark clouds overhead finally parted, the moonlight shone again through the oculus. I couldn't look at his face, couldn't make myself do it. If I did, I'd see it empty of the passion and humor and energy that had drawn me to him so strongly.

I really had loved him. At least he had finally understood that, just as he had wanted me to understand his feelings.

That brought on more tears. I was grateful to be alone. Anyone who thought of me as strong and warrior-like would never have believed it to see me this way now. I didn't care. The sorrow I felt was as much a part of me as my bow and arrows. But I still preferred to be alone. Nobody else would ever mourn for Nic the way I did, so nobody else should be here.

I brushed my hand upon Nic's arm, and as I moved it into the moonlight, I saw something new. A dark red scar covered his arm, like the stems of a fern, or tiny branches of a stag's antlers. Through the pattern, it was obvious at every point where the lightning had moved through him.

I checked his other arm and saw the same thing, as well as on his legs, though the patterns were lighter there. They would be on his back and chest too; I was sure of that. But I would not check. It didn't feel right to roll his body away from where he fell. Even if moving him didn't matter anymore, I wasn't capable of doing it. I could barely make myself move.

So I knelt again beside him, this time maneuvering my body so that I was close enough to lay my head against his shoulder. The heat from the lightning was fading, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to feel him go cold. That was worse.

A squawk sounded behind me, sad and quiet. I had forgotten Caela was here. When I turned, she was looking at me as if confused, curious about why Nic didn't rise up to greet her.

Then she must've realized the reason for his silence. She bowed her head, sat near the altar, and looked at me.

"What do you want me to say?" My tone was unkind, which wasn't fair to Caela, but I'd forgotten how to speak any other way. "I couldn't save him, and you didn't. Why did you leave when the storm began? Why didn't you fly in and take him away from here? You could've saved him!"

I grabbed a chunk of rock from the altar and threw it toward Caela, who only ducked and then glanced behind her where it landed with a small splash. The rainwater was already draining from the room. By morning, it would be gone.

Caela probably hadn't even understood me. She belonged to the gods, so she must be more int

elligent than other animals, but she gave no sign of understanding. She only tilted her eagle head, brushed her lion tail across the floor once or twice, and then lay down near the altar.

I put my head back down on Nic's shoulder and let the tears continue to fall, each one disappearing into his wet tunic. A hole had been burned through the fabric near his chest. He'd destroyed these clothes too, as he had every other tunic Crispus had given him.

I wouldn't marry Crispus. Livia loved him, and when they both were ready, it was right that they should marry. As for me, I doubted I would ever love again, but I could accept that. Once I made it to Britannia, I would improve my skills with the bow and learn other weapons too. Defend Nic's family if it ever became necessary. He would want that.

I better understood now the guilt Nic had felt for not being able to save my father, or Valerius either. None of that was his fault. Nor was it my fault that I couldn't save Nic. But still the guilt pricked at me. How I wished I were stronger.

Nic had probably understood for some time he would have to break the curse on the Mistress and that he would have to destroy the amulets. Despite his protests and his promises, he must've known he would end up making the Jupiter Stone. Nothing I would've done could have changed that.

Hours seemed to pass before my tears finally dried. I was still as sad as before, but my tears had run out. I wondered how long it would be until morning came, and what would happen once it did.

Temple worshippers would come. Or worse, people who had seen the storm and the light beaming up through the oculus. They would come out of curiosity and a desire for gossip. They would disturb Nic's body, carry him before the emperor as proof of his crimes against Rome.

I would have to find a way to stop them, somehow. That seemed like a very big job, so for now I decided to sleep. Suddenly, nothing in me cared about what might happen tomorrow. I wasn't even entirely sure tomorrow would still come. Why should it?

My swollen, tired eyes could not be held open a minute longer. I closed them and finally let myself sleep.

Sunlight entered the Pantheon slowly, as if the new day were ashamed to begin after what night had taken away. But it wasn't anything so poetic, and I knew it. I was no dreamer of such things. The dim morning light was only because of the oculus at the very top of the building, and the torches that had gone out during the storm. Until the sun was high in the sky, this room would sit in shadow. For now, everything was faint and almost blurry, and I preferred that.

It didn't help that my eyes were still swollen. Until I realized that, I had allowed myself to think this was a dream. That last night had not happened, and that Nic and I had only fallen asleep near each other, as we had in Caesar's temple shortly after we first met. In that imagined dream, I would lie here on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his arm around me, keeping me safe and warm and --

Nic's arm was around me!