Free Surrender to the Roman by M.K. Chester

face. The short time for reacquaintance had ended. Duty called.
    Steering Lilah onto a stool beside the warm oven, she instructed her sister to wait until summoned. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. When no one was looking, she wrapped a skewer into the loose fabric of her dress.
    Surely the gods would provide a convenient time to kill the man who had killed her brother and her father, and now tortured her sister.
    She hoped they would be expedient.

Chapter Six
    Marcus couldn’t tear his eyes from Ademeni. She darted from shadow to shadow. Beneath a Roman-style dress, her form took on new life, doubtless enhanced by his first taste of wine in several days.
    He resented having her visible to anyone else, sharing her with his company in this capacity. In any capacity.
    Nonsense. He tried to clear his head. But those pins made out of seashells…where had they come from? Years ago, hadn’t he’d seen something similar on his wife? He blinked. They looked like they belonged on Ademeni. He should be upset, but curiosity prodded his mind instead.
    Over the mundane conversation, he peered at Lucia, drowsing on the couch to his right, then at Flora, waiting near the kitchen. Which one of them had helped Ademeni dress tonight?
    A gentle breeze swirled in the courtyard, running flickering fingers through blazing wall sconces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with either woman, yet one or the other had taken a risk by giving her Julia’s pins.
    Lucia smiled, speaking to Drusilla about a textile vendor at the market. She didn’t look the least bit guilty, but Flora wouldn’t have dared to give Ademeni any of his wife’s belongings. She wouldn’t have thought her worthy. His deductions pointed a strong finger at Lucia.
    “You’re a thousand mille away, Marcus,” Tertullian prodded him. “Have we overstayed our welcome?”
    Drusilla turned and inspected her brother while cuddling a sleepy Callia. He smiled, enjoying her company. “I’m fine, I assure you. It feels strange to be home.”
    “You’ve been away far too long,” she said.
    “Your grounds could use some work.” Tertullian grinned, raising his cup in salute. “But I haven’t told you the latest, my friend. The bulk of the army is on its way home. They struck out from Dacia this morning.”
    Distrusting the glint in his brother-in-law’s eye, Marcus hedged his answer. “This is good news.”
    “Word came after you left that Trajan will reinstate the games.”
    “Really?” Gladiatorial games had never captured Marcus’s attention the way combat had, yet the pull of spectacle was hard to deny and very popular with the masses.
    “One hundred days, that’s the rumor.” Tertullian reached for more fruit. “And that’s not the best part.”
    Dread coiled in Marcus’s gut. The way emperors celebrated often made his duties more difficult. Returning armies could be unruly. “What’s that?”
    “He’s bringing one hundred thousand male slaves from Dacia.”
    The huge number caught in his throat. It seemed excessive, even after such an important victory. “For what purpose?”
    Even as Marcus asked the question, he understood the significance of a public display. Dacia had been an enemy across some time. To take so many men from the province meant that Trajan wanted immediate colonization and subservience.
    “For the games,” Tertullian said. “He’s granting land to soldiers already, and he’s looking for an architect to build a monument in the middle of Rome.”
    “Of course.” Marcus lay back against a pillow. This shouldn’t bother him. Trajan wouldn’t be the first Roman emperor to host games, capture slaves or immortalize himself with stone. He brushed his annoyance aside. “It’s a great accomplishment.”
    “He’s shown his opponents that he belongs on the imperial throne,” Drusilla interjected, her voice full of excitement. “And they said that installing a military man wouldn’t be in the best interests of Rome,