VALENTINA

They ran through the city of Tilium as the barbarians swarmed down the hills from all sides.

No, Valentina thought. Not barbarians. This is their land. To them, we are barbarous.

Tilium, capital of the island-province of Elania, was the northernmost city in the Empire. Tens of thousands lived here. Most were Aelarian settlers, some who had run into dispute with the Octavius dynasty, others who simply craved the adventure of living in the Empire's most isolated province. Other residents were native Elanians. They had pale skin, red hair, and green eyes, though they dressed in togas and stolas like Aelarians, and they spoke the Aelarian tongue, willing converts to the Empire, earning citizenship with their loyalty.

Valentina ran between the people, and Koren ran with her. Legionaries raced down the streets, organized into cohorts and centuries but lacking central leadership; their governor now filled the bellies of ravens. They passed by houses topped with red roofs, the city theater, several temples to the gods, and under the archways of an aqueduct. Red and golden leaves, fallen from the city's elm and oak trees, scattered across the cobbled roads and squares. All the while, as they ran, the sounds of war rose from the hills outside the city walls—horns, drums, roars of fury.

"Damn!" Koren shouted as they ran, scattering the dry leaves. "Every damn place I go, somebody's trying to spoil the fun. First Seneca, then Porcia, now a horde of Elanians!"

But perhaps the Elanians need not be our enemies, Valentina thought. She kept running until she reached the city's defensive walls. Here she raced up a ramp and emerged onto the battlements. Koren rose to stand at her side. Hundreds of legionaries spread across the walls, facing the wilderness.

And there she saw them: thousands of Elanians across the river. A bridge stretched from the far bank toward a gatehouse in the city walls. The Elanians had taken the far bank, overwhelming the castrum built there—a complex of two towers, an armory, and barracks. Hundreds of Elanians were now marching across the bridge, bearing swords and shields, wearing checkered fabrics. Their faces were painted blue and green, and their cloaks billowed in the wind. Their banners unfurled, displaying white horses rampant upon green fields. At their lead rolled a wheeled battering ram, its bronze head forged like a snarling dragon. From other walls in the city, those facing the countryside, Valentina heard cries of war too. The Elanians surrounded Tilium, a vast army that could easily overwhelm this city.

The legionaries on the walls nocked arrows and loaded catapults that were built into the defenses. The first arrows flew, and the ram reached the gatehouse and slammed into the doors. The legionaries hurled down boulders, bubbling oil, and flaming arrows, slaying Elanians below. Across the city walls, the battle flared.

"Wait!" Valentina shouted. "Legionaries, hold your fire!" She coned her mouth and cried down to the Elanians on the bridge. "Elanians, halt your attack! Aelar surrenders to you!"

The legionaries still fired arrows. The Elanians stared up from below. The ram paused its assault.

"Legions of Aelar, hear me!" Valentina cried from the wall. "I am Valentina Cassius, known to you as Valentina Octavius, stepdaughter of Emperor Marcus Octavius. I command you—do not fight this battle!" She gazed down at the Elanians on the bridge. "Pull back across the river! We will grant you this city. Pull back and we will talk!"

The Elanians on the bridge parted, making way for a towering warrior with a red beard. He wore patches of armor and a checkered cloak, and a silver horn hung from his neck on a chain. Valentina remembered seeing him in the misty valley, leading this army. A crown topped his head, and a white horse, twin to the one he rode, reared on his shield.

"I am Enathor!" the man cried. "Son of Elethor, King of Elania. You stand on stolen ground, Aelarians! Open these gates and surrender this city, or we will tear down these walls and put you all to the sword."

"This city will be yours!" Valentina said. "Pull back from the walls! I will emerge onto the bridge, and we will negotiate our surrender. I—"

A hand grabbed her. A military officer glared at her. His nose was aquiline, and a unibrow shaded his beady eyes. He wore the insignia of a general.

"You do not command us, Valentina Cassius." He grabbed her arm.

Koren stepped forward and yanked the man back. "Don't touch her."

The general drew his sword and pointed the blade at Koren. "Stand back, desert rat!" He glared at his men. "Nock your arrows and fire! Slay those fucking heathens—and slay Valentina and her rat too."

"You will not!" Valentina shouted. She stepped into a turret and climbed onto the battlements. She wavered for a moment, the wind nearly blowing her off. From up here, she could see all the city below—a courtyard full of soldiers, walls spreading in both directions, and the distant forum where she had languished in a cage. She had always feared crowds, and now she faced a crowd of thousands. But she had not survived war and terror to be cowed here.

"Hear me!" Valentina said. "Hear me, legions of Aelar! Atticus Magnus, your governor for many years, was friend to my father. My father was Septimus Cassius, a great senator of the Republic. But I was raised by Marcus Octavius, a cruel emperor who shattered all that we had built for five hundred years. I've come here to rebuild the Republic! To restore Aelar to honor. To make us a force of civilization, not conquest. Let us forge peace with the Elanians! They are not our enemy, and this is their land. I will lead you home to Aelar, legions! Return with me, and we will undo the Empire and make this a Republic again, a civilization ruled by all people—Aelarians, Elanians, Zoharites, and all others in this world. Not a world run by one emperor but a world that belongs to all. These men outside our walls are not your enemy! Your enemy is the Empire which has stolen the Republic from us."

As she spoke, the general fumed and tried to reach her, but Koren held the man back. Finally the general broke free, marched across the wall, and addressed his legions.

"Take her back into her cage!" he shouted. "We'll leave her there to die. We'll—"

"The girl speaks truth!" shouted a centurion on the wall. "She is Valentina Octavius, daughter of Marcus, sister to Porcia and Seneca. See her white hair! I've seen her in Aelar in the company of the emperor."

"She is heiress to Aelar!" cried another man.

Valentina shook her head. "I am heiress to nothing but a promise—a promise to restore the Republic. Porcia is dead. Aelar waits without an emperor. Now is the time to rebuild our democracy! Return home with me, and you will serve in Aelar herself, defending her new Senate."

The general climbed the turret and drew his sword. Koren raced after him, but he was too slow. The blade drove toward Valentina, and she sidestepped, narrowly dodging the blow.

"This is my city now," the general hissed. "This is my army." He lashed his blade again. "This—"

Valentina ducked, and the blade scraped across her temple. She screamed and drove herself forward, knocking into the man's legs. He wobbled on the turret. Koren reached them, grabbed the general, and shoved him between two merlons. The sword tumbled into the river below.

Grunting, Koren shoved the general farther along the crenel. The man tilted over the edge.

"You tried to kill her." Koren gnashed his teeth. "You cut her head. It is I, Koren Sela—a Zoharite—who ends your life now." He shoved the man again . . . but Valentina reached out, grabbed the general, and held him up.

"Koren, no." Valentina shook her head. Blood dripped from her temple. "Let him live."

Koren's face was red with rage. He still held the man between the merlons, ready to send him down to the rocky river. "He tried to murder you."

"He lost his sword," Valentina said softly. "You can end his life, yes. But his life is cheap. Your honor is not." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You killed legionaries before, and I saw how much pain that brought you, how much their deaths weigh upon your shoulders. Don't add more to that weight. Enough have died already."

Koren still held the man over the edge, jaw tight, as if contemplating the words. Finally he grunted and yanked the general back onto the wall. With a kick, he sent the Aelarian fleeing back down into the courtyard. The general glared and skulked away, his pride slain but his life saved.

Still bleeding from the ravens and the cut on her temple, Valentina left the wall and stepped onto the middle of the bridge, and with her came Koren and several centurions. As rain fell, she talked to Enathor, son of Elethor, King of Elania. She told him that she would withdraw the legions from his island. She welcomed his people into this city. She offered him partnership with Aelar—that they should build civilization here together, equal members in a republic of nations. The temples to Aelar's gods, she vowed, would not expand, and they would rise aside temples to the Elanian spirits.

"I will send no more Aelarians here," she vowed. "Not settlers or soldiers. Those Aelarian civilians who've already built lives here will remain, but they will live here peacefully. They will respect your culture while you respect theirs. The time for war in the world has ended. It is time to forge peace, to build civilization."

That night, Valentina lay down to bed in the Tilium forum, in Atticus's old chamber. At dawn, they would begin preparation for the journey back home. It would take days to prepare the supplies they needed, and Aelar was a long journey away. It had taken her and Koren nearly two months to travel here from Aelar, and an army would move more slowly. It would be spring before she arrived at the walls of Aelar again, bringing with her three legions.

And once I'm there, will war be unavoidable? she thought. Or can my words there too sway men's hearts to peace?

Koren stood by the window, looking out upon the city. The moon shone outside, and embers glowed in a brazier in the chamber. Both silver and red lights illuminated him. He wore only cotton breeches. He had cropped his hair and beard short; they were black as the night. As Valentina lay in bed, gazing at him across the chamber, she suddenly realized how beautiful he was. She had never understood when the other women of Aelar would gossip about men's beauty, speaking of men's bodies, their smiles, their stiff cocks. Valentina had never cared for any of those. Since awakening to womanhood, the love of her lumer had been enough for her. Yet now, lying here so far from home, she saw beauty in Koren—not only the beauty of his youth and form, but the beauty of his soul. There was so much light to that soul, so much joy, though so many worries weighed upon it.

"Will it work?" Koren said softly, still not facing her, gazing out the window. "Once we withdraw the legions, will the Elanians live in peace with the Aelarian settlers? Or will it be butchery?" He turned his back to the window, facing her. "Can men be trusted to live in peace, or as soon as we remove the might of an empire, will this place descend into chaos?"

"It was already descending into chaos," said Valentina. "I stopped that chaos."

Koren lowered his head. "How do you do it, Valentina? How do you believe in the goodness of men?"

She sighed and rose from the bed. She walked toward him and held his hands in the moonlight. She spoke softly. "When my mother was pregnant with me, Marcus butchered her. He took a knife, and he cut her corpse open, and he pulled me—just a fetus—out from her belly. He stole me from my mother's womb just to punish my father."

Even in the moonlight, Koren visibly paled. "God."

Valentina nodded. "And he treated my father even worse. He starved him, beat him, turned him into a chained animal, then forced him to dance and entertain the nobles—a fool, a wretch. When Septimus finally rebelled, Porcia Octavius murdered him—along with hundreds of other senators. I saw those murders. I saw my lover, Iris, strangled and murdered, lying dead at Marcus's feet. How do I believe in the goodness of men? I do not. I believe in their cruelty. In the malice and evil of mankind. And that is why I must believe in goodness, why I must fight for peace. Because only light can banish darkness. Only love can banish hatred. Only peace can banish war."

Koren lowered his head, silent for a long time, then looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Valentina. That those things happened to you."

She pulled him into her arms. "We've both walked dark paths. We've both seen too many loved ones lost, too much desolation, too much darkness to believe there can ever be light. But we'll keep shining our light. You and I, together, against the shadows."

They kissed in these shadows, like they had kissed under the blankets on their way to Tilium, but now they shed no tears. Now she did not kiss him for comfort in the cold and misery. Now she kissed him because she loved him—fully, deeply, completely.

She hesitated, then looked up at him and pulled off her stola. The soft linen fell to the floor, revealing her nakedness. Valentina had never been naked in front of anyone before. Even with Iris, she had always hidden under the blankets. Even in the bathhouses, she would hide her pale body underwater. She wished she could be bold and confident like Ofeer, and it took all her courage to meet his eyes.

"I've never made love to a man," she said. "Many suitors courted me in Aelar, generals and senators and great lords and kings of distant lands. I turned them all away. But I want to make love to you, Koren. I think I will enjoy it. Will you show me how?"

He nodded, eyes soft. "I'll show you how." He suddenly grinned—that old, mischievous grin she remembered, the one she hadn't seen nearly enough these past two months. "Some light in the shadows, right?"

She lay on the bed, naked, and closed her eyes. She was nervous, but as he kissed her, held her, she felt calmer, felt loved, felt better than she had since before her father had come into the garden, frightening her with stories of robins and cuckoos. It was awkward sex, their teeth banging twice, and it took several attempts before things seemed to work, and it was not wild love like in the stories the women in the bathhouse would share. But when it was over, and when she lay in his arms, and he stroked her hair and told silly jokes that made her groan, Valentina was happy—truly happy for the first time in many months.

On a winter morning, the legions departed from Tilium, traveling in galleys downriver through the island of Elania, heading toward the distant sea. Many leagues lay between them and Aelar. Valentina did not know what she would find when she got there—the tyranny of a new emperor or a city in ruin, ravaged by war. Many leagues and much darkness and much fear. Yet as they sailed, ship after ship, passing through this land they had conquered, Valentina vowed to keep carrying her light.