The Warrior's Bride Prize

‘She claimed she was taking the prisoner some food.’

‘Claimed?’ The coldness seemed to be spreading, trickling down his spine as if there were a block of ice slowly melting against his neck. ‘Don’t you believe her?’

‘I do. I just don’t think it was all she was doing.’ Ario muttered an oath. ‘Look, Marius, what do you know of her loyalties? Where is she from?’

‘Lindum and I trust her.’ Even as he said it, he felt a cross-current of doubt. Did he really trust her? ‘Get to the point, Ario. What are you trying to tell me?’

‘She was speaking to him.’

‘Who?’

‘The prisoner. She was speaking Caledonian.’

The cold reached his toes and fingertips at the same time, as if all his blood had just frozen. ‘Are you certain?’

The Decurion nodded gravely. ‘I only caught the last of it, but, yes, it was definitely Caledonian. She speaks it better than I do.’

Marius gripped hold of a chair back, clenching the wood in his fists as he tried to understand. How the hell could she speak Caledonian?

‘Do you think she might be a spy?’

‘No.’ He shook his head, certain of that much at least. How could she be? Her brother was a respected citizen of Lindum. He’d sent her north against her will. She’d never seen the wall before—her emotional response to it had proved that much—so how could she be spying for the tribes?

The wooden chair splintered apart in his hands as a new idea dawned on him. New and improbable and yet, he was suddenly convinced, the truth. It made all the small things that had puzzled him about her finally make sense—her eagerness to see the wall, her barely concealed antagonism towards Rome, her reaction to the prisoner, the momentary pause when he’d asked which tribe her mother had belonged to...

This has nothing to do with the Carvetti! That was what she’d told him yesterday and it was true because the Carvetti did have nothing to do with it. Because her mother hadn’t been Carvetti at all. She’d been Caledonian. Which meant that even if Livia wasn’t a spy, she was a liar.

‘She’s not a spy.’ He said the words with authority.

‘Are you certain?’

‘Yes.’ He nodded tersely. ‘I’ll deal with this. In the meantime, tell the guards not to let anyone but you or me near the prison and don’t tell anyone.’

‘What do you take me for?’ Ario gave him a sharp look. ‘Just make sure you find out where her loyalties lie. There’s too much at stake here to take risks.’

‘I know.’ Marius was halfway out of the door already. ‘I know.’

* * *

There was no sign of her in the courtyard. It was mid-morning, but the villa was silent, filled with dim and mysterious shadows. He felt an obscure sense of discomfort followed by a momentary panic. Had she run away? If she’d suspected that Ario had overheard her, then no doubt she would have guessed that he’d tell him. But if she’d run away, where would she have gone? In which direction?

‘Livia?’ He called her name, relieved to hear a faint answering call from the bedroom.

‘In here.’

He followed the sound of her voice to the doorway. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them and her hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, so much of it that she looked half-hidden beneath the red tresses. All this time he’d taken her loyalty to the Empire for granted, assuming that she was more Roman than Briton. Now he didn’t know if she were Roman or rebel, but he had the uncomfortable suspicion that he might not like the answer.

‘Have you spoken to Ario?’ She got straight to the point.

‘Yes.’ He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.

‘What did he tell you?’

‘What do you think he told me?’

A look of defiance mixed with guilt crossed her features. ‘I was only trying to help. I took the prisoner some food.’

‘Did you think I would starve a boy?’