The Warrior's Bride Prize

The Tribune’s face blazed with a sudden burst of hatred. ‘If you do this, then I’ll destroy you. My family won’t let me rot in a prison cell for long. I’ll be back and I’ll make what happened to your father seem like a stroll along the Tiber. I’m not bluffing, Varro. Either forget this game ever happened or I’ll ruin your career.’

Briefly Marius considered the threat. Money and possessions were one thing—his career another. He’d spent half of his lifetime following one distinct path and purpose with only one aim in mind. Was he really prepared to risk his ambition, his honour, the promotion that would finally redeem his family name, all for a woman?

Yes. He’d known that at the start of the game, though his reasons for doing so were somehow less clear. Still, his moment of misgiving was just that, a moment. He believed Scaevola’s threats, but if he’d needed any further proof that he was doing the right thing, this was it. He wasn’t just saving her from an unwanted marriage. He was saving her from a monster.

‘Then there’s nothing more to say.’

He picked up his sword and slid it back into its scabbard, relieved to feel its solid weight against his hip again. Somehow he’d kept his money, his prized sword, and won himself a wife into the bargain.

A wife?

The realisation sank slowly into his consciousness. All the wine he’d consumed had prevented him from realising the full implications before, but now the truth hit him like a hammer in the chest. He hadn’t just been playing for Livia’s freedom, although that had been his main concern. He’d been playing for a wife. She’d already told him that her brother would probably refuse to take her back if she didn’t marry Scaevola, which meant that he had no choice but to do the honourable thing and offer her an alternative.

Would she want him? He frowned. That was something he probably ought to have considered before risking his money and career on a game. After all, he was only an obscure centurion, not to mention one with a disgraced family name—the details of which he was now going to have to tell her. She’d said that she preferred him an hour ago, but what if that was only in comparison to Scaevola? What if his family history changed her mind? Would she still prefer him to Scaevola? Or had he just blighted his career for nothing?

There was only one way to find out. He had to go and tell her everything and then offer her the choice. When dawn came he’d go and speak to Nerva, ask him permission to make a formal offer for her hand. Perhaps by then it might have started to feel real for him, too.

Chapter Eleven

Livia opened her eyes reluctantly, roused by the light touch of a hand on her shoulder. After a restless night, she felt as though she’d only just got to sleep and the last thing she wanted was to be dragged awake again.

‘Wake up.’ Hermenia’s voice was insistent. ‘It’s important.’

‘What’s happened?’ She heaved herself up on her elbows, turning quickly towards Julia on the other side of the room, but the little girl was sleeping peacefully. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Not exactly.’ Hermenia was still in her night tunica. ‘Nerva told me to fetch you. He needs to speak with you.’

‘Oh...just a moment.’

Livia climbed out of bed and pulled a shawl over her tunica, seized with a dull sense of dread. Was it about her and Marius? She glanced at Hermenia nervously, wondering if she’d felt compelled to tell her husband what she’d seen, after all. She couldn’t imagine what else it could be, but whatever it was, it had to be important. Judging by the faint glow emanating from the sky above the courtyard, it was only just past dawn, and there was no sight or sound of activity anywhere else in the villa.

She followed Hermenia into Nerva’s office, unsurprised to find Marius already standing in front of the Legate’s desk. He wasn’t wearing his armour, for once, though he looked no less imposing, his arms folded behind his back as if he were on trial. Was he? Her heart plummeted to the soles of her thin leather slippers. It was hard to tell which of the two men looked the most sombre. It must be a trial. Hermenia must have

told and now they’d both been summoned for punishment. The only consolation was that there was no sign of Scaevola.

‘My apologies for waking you so early—’ Nerva’s expression was unreadable ‘—but Marius has something he needs to say.’

‘Oh.’ It wasn’t exactly the condemnation she’d been expecting.

‘Perhaps in the courtyard?’ The Legate gestured towards the door. ‘The two of you have a lot to talk about.’

She turned towards Marius in consternation as he took hold of her arm and led her outside. There was no softness in his touch, although it wasn’t exactly rough either. Instead it felt strangely official, as if he were a guard leading a prisoner, and yet she still couldn’t stop her body from reacting to the heat of his fingers against her skin.

‘Marius? What’s going on?’

She raised a hand to her arm, rubbing it lightly over the place where his fingers had been as he released her and folded his arms behind his back again. He still looked sombre and she glanced around as if the scene itself might reveal something, but it was too dark to make out much of the courtyard. A pair of torches illuminated the colonnade behind, but all she could see of the garden were decorative oscillae twirling in the trees around them, silver discs reflecting the last of the fading starlight. They looked eerily beautiful and mysterious sparkling in the darkness—almost as much as the situation she found herself in.

‘I played a game of tabula with Scaevola last night.’

‘You...played a game?’

She repeated the words slowly. There was no preamble, no apology for waking her, no mention of their kiss, just a bizarre statement of fact about a game. The words were as incongruous as they were surprising. She hadn’t thought that he was on good enough terms with Scaevola to play games with him, especially after the events of the previous evening, but what did tabula have to do with their situation? What did it have to do with anything? It didn’t even begin to explain why Nerva had sent them off alone together.

Alone. The thought made her pulse start to quiver. They ought not to be alone together. It was too dangerous. Hermenia had said as much, so why had she allowed it? She opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first.

‘I won.’

‘What?’