This rock was meant to become the Jupiter Stone. I had just taken it from Jupiter himself.
Another theft.
Another victory.
This wasn't really a Jupiter Stone, not yet, since it had no more magic than a dried apple core. But I had it clutched in my fist, the same way I often held the bulla.
I staggered to my feet and followed the vestalis along a path. Diana's temple was above us, and I hoped the path would take us even farther away from anything associated with her.
I knew from my time in the mines that strange rituals took place at this temple, violent ones with screams I sometimes would hear at night. And though I had some protection because of the magic within me, it was still uncomfortable to be here. Surely, Diana knew that I intended to use her magic to stop the Praetor War, not expand it.
The path soon led to a thick grove of trees. Mighty oak trees that were probably as old as the earth itself. The vestalis sat on a marble bench facing one large oak tree that stood apart from the rest.
The moonlight was behind it now and shone brightly through its thick branches. Although we had walked far from Diana's temple, I felt a reverence here. Maybe that was because we were so far away. Diana was a warrior. The vestalis was not, and certainly I wasn't either.
"Sit beside me, Nicolas."
She didn't ask for the stone, and I didn't offer it. But I did sit, facing the oak tree.
The vestalis was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if she had fallen asleep. And I debated what to do because the truth was, I wouldn't have minded falling asleep too -- this horrible day seemed to have no end.
The moonlight was fading now, or more accurately, the sun was rising at our backs. It was early still, and yet those first moments of sunlight touched on the outer branches of the tree as if each had been lit with a flame. It was beautiful in the kind of way I knew I'd never be able to describe to anyone else.
"I can feel your heart," she finally said. "So heavy with fear and sorrow, but it beats for the love that is there too."
"For my mother and my sister," I said.
The vestalis looked over at me. "A mother and sister, yes. But is that all?"
"No." I couldn't lie to her, not even if I was used to lying to myself.
She turned back to the tree. "You want freedom, Nicolas Calva. I feel that in your heart as well. Every decision you make is weighed against the hope of whether it will make you free."
My breath was becoming shallow. "Can you give me freedom? I will trade this stone for it, and the bulla. And the key to the Malice, if I knew how to give that away." Because I knew now, more than ever, that without the amulets I could not gain my freedom. With them, I could not live in freedom.
She smiled softly. "Freedom never comes to those who avoid their problems. To get what you want, you must walk through the fire. And I suspect you will need your magic to survive it."
Then she knew about the bargain I had made with the Praetors. She must, because I figured a chariot race against their strongest competitor was as much fire as anyone could ever walk, or ride, through.
Since first seeing the vestalis again, a question had been stuck like a lump in my throat, and it was time I forced it out. "There's a woman known as Atroxia --"
She cut me off with a heavy sigh. "The vestalis involved in Caesar's death
. As punishment, she was buried alive."
"Yes. Can you tell me about her?"
The sacred woman stood and faced into the sun, away from me. "She will test you in a most unexpected way, Nicolas. What you still do not understand about love will become clear through her."
I understood far more than the vestalis seemed to think. I'd sacrificed so much for my loved ones already. I didn't see how life could teach me anything more about the price of caring for another person.
Besides that, I had no intention of being tested by the Mistress, because she was asleep, and I intended to keep her that way. I said, "I'm not supposed to wake her up. I've been told that she's evil."
The vestalis turned back to me, with heavy eyes and shoulders. "Then perhaps you have things to teach her as well."
No, the vestalis was wrong about this. I was certain of it. Or, I hoped for it anyway.
The sun was rising higher now, and whole branches of the tree were visible.