There were tears in her eyes when she turned away from him, but Lawson hardened his heart, even though the sight of the vicious scar on her chest had given him pause. She was a distraction; he was here to kill Romulus and save Tala; he couldn’t spare a moment to think of Bliss. If she was working with the enemy, then it was better that he had sent her away. If she was who she said she was, an ex-vampire, an archangel’s daughter, then she would still be safe. The hounds would not harm her; he saw that much.

The crowd was restless for the games to begin, but he knew they had some time; only Romulus could signal the opening of the games, and Romulus had not yet returned to the balcony. Lawson planned to find Tala first, then kill the general only after Romulus had given the signal. History must be allowed to flow as it had. At the steps of the Regia, he tried to sniff out Tala’s scent, but the smell of the hounds masked everything else, the stench of their evil filling the air.

The Regia was enormous, easily the largest of the surrounding buildings. Lawson evaded the guards watching the steps and slipped into the main chamber, unsure which of the numerous corridors to follow. Where would Romulus keep Tala? Lawson would have expected that he’d keep her by his side, but he hadn’t seen her on the podium with Romulus when he stood before the crowd. She must be here. But where?

Lawson began exploring the palace. He wandered through room after room on the first floor. The dining room, filled with recliners for royalty to lie on during their meals. No chairs for the elite, not in ancient Rome. Some of the recliners were clearly meant for one person; others were semicircular and could seat a number of people. An interior kitchen, with a fire pit for roasting meat and long tables and serving stands. Bedroom after bedroom, with sleeping couches holding high, fluffy feather beds, covered in blankets and pillows. If Romulus was keeping her by his side, then she’d be in a room closer to Romulus’s chambers, or even in his chambers themselves. The thought twisted his stomach, but he had to keep going.

Corridor after corridor, room after room. Finally, he saw a door that bore the sigil of the republic. Romulus’s quarters. She had to be in there. Tala, where are you?

The bedroom was larger and more elaborate than any he’d seen so far. The bed was enormous, the mattress higher off the ground than any of the others. Lawson sat down and sunk deeply into the plush feather bed. Apparently firm mattresses were a thing of the future, he thought. He tried to picture Tala here, to pick up her scent. Nothing.

He heaved himself off the tall bed and explored the rest of the room. Wooden shelves held togas, spare armor, leather sandals. The togas were lighter and softer than the one he wore, some made of cotton, some of silk. Too bad there weren’t any extra weapons lying around. No sign that a woman had been here; none of the tunics looked like dresses, like the ones Bliss and Ahramin were wearing.

Except…

He turned his head to the corner of the bedroom. There was a pile of what appeared to be laundry sitting in the corner. Funny how some things stayed the same, no matter what century you were in, he thought; people still left their clothes on the floor. But then he looked closer. The clothes appeared to be silk; they glistened as he moved toward them. He picked up the fabric and saw that it was a woman’s tunic, soft to the touch and beautifully cut, as best as he could tell.

And covered in bloodstains.

Lawson felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Tala…where are you? What happened here?

It couldn’t be hers, could it? But it had to be. Romulus had taken no mate, and he’d shown himself to be insistent on doing whatever he could to destroy Lawson, to destroy whatever power he thought Lawson possessed. He didn’t want to think about what Romulus had done to her, about the prospect of never seeing Tala again. It couldn’t be true.

“She’s not here, my boy.”

Lawson turned around to see Romulus standing at the doorway.