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Elizabeth woke up the next morning, opened her mouth to ask Kane how he was—and remembered.
She stared at the ceiling, the ache in her chest worse than it had been when he threw those words at her. Before Kane, she could shrug them off, move on with little damage.
But she let him in—all the way in, and each word pounded her like he used his fist instead of his voice to wound. This time she would carry the scars, and the heartache.
“Elizabeth?” Appia stepped in, what looked like fresh clothing over her arm. “How are you this morning?”
With a sigh, she rolled over and sat. She would have to face today, and tomorrow, and every day after that. Might as well get used to living through the pain.
“A little tired. What is that?”
Appia held up a soft blue stola. It had a wide, dark blue border at the hem, and was sleeveless, with decorative pins to hold it closed at the shoulders. “A new outfit for you. I thought you might want to look nice when you—” She cut herself off.
“When I what?” Elizabeth stood, one hand on the wall while she waited for her weak leg to uncramp. Appia smiled, moved to the chair next to Elizabeth’s sleeping couch, and laid the stola over it, every move deliberate. Oh, yes, she was avoiding. “What don’t I know?”
“Marius and Kane are going to start training again. There, I said it, and now that you know, Marius will have to allow you to... Elizabeth. Oh, my sweet girl.” She reached out, took Elizabeth’s hand. “Hearing his name hurts you.”
“No.” She lifted her chin, took a deep breath. “Not after this morning. Where are they training?”
“In the principia, as before. But this time Marius announced his intentions, to avoid another incident. There is no need for you to attend, if it will be difficult for you.”
“I want to.” I want to see him, hear his voice, watch him move, know he’s okay—
Stupid—stupid and hopeless. Even knowing he could have hurt her intentionally, she still cared about him, still wanted him. Idiot.
“Let me help you dress, and then we will eat. The training starts in an hour.”
Elizabeth nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth again every thought in her head would come spilling out. She always imagined if she was ever jilted by a man she loved, she’d feel panic, or anxiety at the very least. Never, in even her worst case scenarios, did she conjure up the stunning, breath-robbing ache that stabbed her with every breath. Or the need to see him, even knowing it would hurt her all over again.
~ ~ ~
Kane stood in the center of the yard, stripped to the waist, a sword in his left hand. He still felt uncomfortable with his back exposed, but he knew by now most of the soldiers in the fort had seen his scars, or at least knew about them. He shifted, getting used to the loose wool trousers that hung low on his hips, the leather sandals on his feet.
Half a dozen soldiers stood around the edge of the ring Marius created, weapons drawn and ready to use in case Kane decided escape was a good idea.
The moment he saw Elizabeth walk in with Appia, he wanted to do exactly that.
She looked beautiful, and fragile, and tired. Though she hid it well, smiling at the soldiers they passed, Kane saw it in the way she moved, her hesitation before every step with her right leg. She did not even glance in his direction.
He ached at the sight of her, all too aware that the words he had flung at her yesterday could never be taken back. Already he sensed a distance between them. His original intent was to create that distance, keep her away from any violence that he faced. He saw now how well he succeeded, and his success may have built a wall he could not breach.
When she finally looked at him, the jolt of it shook him. He loved her, more than he ever thought he could love another person, and what he said to her could never be forgiven. Should never be forgiven.
Marius limped into the ring, wearing a similar outfit, and minus his crutch. It surprised Kane to see him without it, and that he moved so well on his own. He had spent most of their first session with it, and finally threw it aside right before Elizabeth and Appia appeared. This might be more of a challenge than he expected.
His right side still gave him fits, and though his back was healing faster than he thought it would, it was still not fast enough. Elizabeth was right—he had been spoiled by the machines and the medical technology of his time.
Marius smiled at him and raised his sword. “Ready to be trounced by a crippled old man, my friend?”
That casual reference still pulled at him. He nodded, took a deep breath, and lifted the sword.
Marius went after him before he finished preparing himself. Out of pure instinct he snapped his blade sideways and caught the sword aimed for his face. A sharp gasp behind him pinpointed Elizabeth’s location. The grip on his heart eased, just a little. She cared enough to be worried for him.
He circled the yard, kept Marius in sight. The man already had his sword up again, his muscles tensed for an attack. Kane wanted to initiate, but he was afraid it might spook the soldiers on guard. The last thing he needed was to be run through from behind.
With a smile, Marius nodded at them, obviously reading his thoughts. “Don’t hesitate because of the swords at your back. They have been ordered to stand down except at my command.”
“I feel so much better now.”
Marius laughed—and lunged forward, obviously hoping to catch Kane off guard. But Kane anticipated him, and took him at his word by going on the offensive.
Before ending up here, he hadn’t handled a sword since he was in school—and most of his bouts were with Gordon, keeping the blade between him and the boy’s manic attacks. There had been little finesse, and no real training.
Marius had years of training, and actual fighting behind him. Even with a bad leg, he swung the sword like it was an extension of his hand. Kane ducked, cursing as his side complained, and tried to cramp up. His left arm shook already—from the weight of the sword, from days confined to a bed. He refused to let it stop him.
“Kane—come at me. Now.” Marius left himself wide open. Kane knew a trap when he saw it. He started to move in, and lunged to the side at the last moment, the flat of his blade smacking Marius’ forearm. “Well done.” Marius shook out his arm. “Painful, but well done. Point to the foreigner.” He regarded Kane with a bit more respect.
“Whenever you are ready again, old man.”
Marius shifted his sword from hand to hand, with such careless skill it left Kane impressed, and more wary. “Time to show the foreigner how a real Roman fights.”
Kane didn’t know what to expect—but it wasn’t the full out charge, sword aimed at his face.
He danced backward, aware he would forfeit if he stepped out of the ring. Before he could talk himself out of it he gripped his sword with both hands, raised the blade, and parried Marius’ attack.
With a hoarse shout he threw his weight behind his sword and forced the other sword down until it tapped the ground. A hand touched his wrist and he almost drove his sword up at the owner. The hand closed over his forearm and stopped him with the ease of man handling a child.
Quintus smiled, and took the sword from him. “Point and win to the foreigner.” Leaning in, he whispered, covering it by wiping down the sword. “Kneel and put your hands behind you. The match is over, and now you are a prisoner again.”
Kane obeyed, every inch tired and sweaty. The shackles closed over his wrists; he forced himself not to flinch at the weight pulling on his shoulders. Quintus helped him stand, which was a good thing. He didn’t think he could do it on his own. The short bout exhausted him. He glanced over at Marius, who sat on a stool on the shade of the basilica. He looked just as worn, but he lifted the cup in his hand and smiled at Kane.
“To the victor. I will demand a rematch—once I am recovered.”
“You know where to find me.”
Laughter surrounded him as Quintus led him out of the yard. Only one person didn’t react, except to follow him with her gaze, hands twisted together in her lap. Kane nodded to her, and closed his eyes when she turned away from him.
He deserved no less.
By the time Quintus led him to the slave room and removed the shackles from his wrists, Kane wanted nothing more than to lie on the uncomfortable pallet and sleep the rest of the day. The bone deep exhaustion worried him.
“How long—” He cleared his throat, his voice raw. “How long did we fight?”
“Ten minutes, maybe a bit more.” Quintus pulled a long chain from the pile near the wall, and to Kane’s surprise, attached only one shackle, around his right ankle. Over the loose trousers he wore to fight. “I honestly expected both of you to fall over long before that. My captain was impressive, and you were—a surprise.” Finished, Quintus leaned against the wall next to the door, crossed his arms. “You’ve used a sword before.”
“Only in self-defense, and not well.”
“You showed me differently in the yard. You have a natural talent. If you like, I will teach you what I know.”
Kane studied him, surprised by the offer. “Why?”
“It will be a challenge for me. And a way to make amends for letting my temper get the better of me, for causing the rift between you and your wife.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my doing. I acted in haste, and you pushed her away because of my actions.”
“I would be honored.”
“Good.” Quintus straightened, and waved to whoever stood outside the room. Hild scurried in, leaving a tray of food and a bucket of water before she disappeared. “I believe she’s afraid of you.”
“I may have growled at her, once or twice, after I was flogged.” He reached for the bucket, and let out a groan as every muscle complained. “Hell.”
“Allow me.” Quintus lifted the bucket, set it next to him, and picked up the cloth on the edge. “I can help you, if you like, or leave you to it. It won’t be the first time I’ve washed a wounded man. I have done my share of field medicine.”
“Help would be—appreciated.”
Kane clenched his jaw, to keep from cursing as the water hit his still raw back.
“It is healing well. You are fortunate—the other scars prevented Villius from inflicting as much damage as he would have liked.”
Kane swallowed, lowered his head, let the warm water ease the aches. When Quintus stood, he was half asleep.
“Take some rest, Kane. The food will be waiting for you when you wake.” He paused in the doorway. “And Marius wants a word, once you have recovered.”
“About what?”
“Elizabeth.”
That yanked him out of his stupor. “What about her?”
“He wants to keep her occupied, without allowing her to put herself in any danger. He’s afraid she and Appia may—investigate on their own. Appia has a reputation for going her own way. It seems Elizabeth has the same tendency.”
“She has more courage than anyone I know.” And he knew it could get her into trouble. With a killer out there, he wanted her safe. Damn it, he wanted to protect her himself. But he mucked that up in the worst way possible. “Don’t let her do anything on her own.”
“She will be protected. I promise you. Now rest, my friend. You need to rebuild your strength.”
Once Quintus left, Kane lowered himself to the pallet, resting on his stomach. He already hurt enough, and didn’t want to risk rolling over on his back.
He closed his eyes, let thoughts of Elizabeth fill his mind. As he drifted off, he imagined he could even smell her, the soft, warm scent of lavender following him into dreamless, exhausted sleep.
~ ~ ~
Elizabeth stood outside the door of Kane’s makeshift prison, and listened to him move around. She had hidden in the storage room down the hall after they returned, waiting in agonizing silence for Quintus to leave—and prayed he wouldn’t stop outside the room and stand guard. When he strode past, she let out her breath and snuck down the hall.
She almost smiled when Kane cursed under his breath. After he finally settled, and she heard the deep, even sound of his breathing, she slipped inside, and watched him sleep.
Even at rest, pain etched his face. She had a feeling it would be a while before that went away completely. The shackle and chain attached to his right ankle still hurt to see, but it was better than the complete set they had on him before. Maybe they learned something since last night—a clue that led Marius to be more lenient. He wouldn’t say a word to her, about any of it.
Quietly, she moved around the small room, straightening the few things he had here. When he shifted on the pallet she froze, waiting for him to wake up, discover her skulking around like a stalker.
Instead, he stilled, and she understood the reason for his restless sleep. He was cold.
She found a lightweight, striped cover, and eased it over him, pulling it up until it covered his shoulders. He relaxed immediately. And she couldn’t stop herself; she knelt on the floor beside his pallet, brushed her fingers over his scarred cheek, and fought back the tears that waited, just below the surface. His scent threatened to overwhelm her, heightened by the sweat still drying on his skin.
“Oh, Kane,” she whispered. She wanted to touch him, hold his hand, help him get through this.
She pushed to her feet instead, her right leg aching from the cold wind that swept over the hill today. By the time she reached the hall her tears blinded her—and she ran straight into a tall figure.
“Miss—Elizabeth?” Servius’ voice filtered through her grief. “What are you doing here? You are not to be near the prisoner—and where is the guard? I must report to my mast—the commander, immediately.”
“It’s fine, Servius.” She blinked her eyes clear and grabbed his wrist before he could run off. “He’s chained, and can’t go anywhere. Besides, I think Marius believes he didn’t do it.”
Servius looked surprised, then a smile lit his face. “That is good news. Come, let me escort you back to the courtyard. I believe my mistress is looking for you.”
“Thank you.”
He took her arm when he noticed her limping, and they moved through the praetorium, Servius chattering about the administrative work he had done earlier. Elizabeth listened, nodded at the appropriate times, and kept most of her mind working over the details she knew about the murders. She planned to get all of the details, one way or another, before the day was over.
Maybe... “Servius?”
“Yes?” He stopped before they reached the courtyard. “Is something wrong? I can escort you back to your room if you are feeling—”
“It’s not that. Can you—I know this may be asking too much, but can you help me? I want to help prove that Kane is innocent, but I need more information.”
“You want me to obtain it for you.”
“If you can.”
He sounded—angry. She opened her mouth to tell him never mind when he smiled.
“I will do what I can. A murder investigation—it will be exciting!”
His enthusiasm reminded her too late just how young he was. She just hoped he could keep a secret.