Household Colors

The duties for formal banquets, as it turned out, were numerous and complicated, and Dael supposed he should have paid better attention instead of smiling at Flavia, because the tunica Quintus was trying to force on him was hideous.

“They’re the household colors,” Quintus insisted. “All who serve at table will be wearing them.”

“A corpse wouldn’t be seen wearing them,” Dael said.

“You have to wear it, it’ll be the lash for you.” Quintus waggled the tunica warningly.

Dael sighed. “Fine. I’ll wear it.”

He pretended he didn’t see Flavia stifle laughter when he stepped into the dining room.

Her Happiness

Dael could only sputter wordlessly, but then Flavia turned and walked away, and Quintus came to tell him Tertius was looking for him.

Later, when Tertius was informing Dael he’d been restored to his former duties, Dael spotted Flavia with Tertius’s lieutenant, reviewing the guest list. Her expression was grim, and there was an air of exhaustion about her.

Tertius had just started in on Dael’s extensive list of duties for formal banquets when Flavia looked up.

Dael caught her gaze and smiled.

She smiled back, her happiness emerging from her exhaustion like the sun from behind a storm cloud.

Size Isn't Everything (Reprise)

He swallowed carefully, then straightened up. “It is sweet,” he said.

Flavia smiled, pleased. “Do you think it’s sweet enough to catch tadpoles?”

It was Dael’s turn to be confused. “Perhaps, but...it’s too big, don’t you think? It might crush the tadpole.”

“Maybe.”

Flavia leaned in, gazed into his eyes, and he swallowed hard.

“But remember,” she said, “size isn’t everything.” And she patted the top of his head.

Dael knew the condescending gesture, had endured it from his brother all his life. “Oy! I’m not short!”

Flavia’s eyes were bright with suppressed mirth. “I never said you were.”

Juice and Skin

Dael caught it easily. “Do you wish to play a game?” he asked, turning it over in his hands. It had a pocked surface, was spongy.

Flavia laughed softly and came toward him. “No - it’s fruit. From Hispania. You must peel it before you eat it. Watch.”

Dael handed the ball back to her and watched her sink her nails into the surface, peel back to a layer of pale whiteness. And then a translucent orange wedge fell onto her palm. She offered it to him.

“Try it - it’s sweet,” she said.

He leaned forward, tasted juice and her skin.

Something Sweet

Dael said, “You might try a net, or perhaps a treat. What do tadpoles like to eat?”

“I don’t know,” Flavia said.

“Maybe something sweet?” Dael suggested.

Flavia shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.”

Someone shouted from the kitchen, and both turned back to the house.

Dael hefted his water jars. “I’d better get moving.”

Flavia nodded. “We both have duties.”

“Farewell, Flavia. For now.” And Dael headed for the well.

Later that afternoon, he spotted Flavia as she returned from sword practice. She trotted up the veranda and paused, called his name.

She added, “Catch.”

She threw him an orange ball.

Size Isn't Everything

Flavia looked up. “Pardon?”

“The face on the surface of the water is beautiful,” Dael said quietly. “You keep destroying it.”

At first, Flavia was confused; then a cautious smile settled over her features.

“I’m trying to catch a tadpole,” she said.

Dael didn’t know the word, and Flavia explained with gestures and sound effects. Eventually, Dael realized she meant a baby frog.

“They’re tiny,” he said, peering into the fountain.

“Makes them hard to catch,” Flavia said, and met his gaze briefly before turning back to the water.

Dael said, “Size isn’t everything,” and lifted an eyebrow.

Flavia laughed.

Images Marred

The day after that, when Dael rose early in the morning and started for the well with water jugs under each arm, he saw Flavia again. This time she was sitting in the garden, on the edge of the fountain, staring at her reflection. Every once in a while, she’d reach out, hand darting fast as a snake, and thrust her hand into the water.

Each time, her hand came out empty.

Dael came to stand beside her, curious.

On the surface of the water, he saw her reflection.

She struck the water again.

“Why mar such a lovely image?”

After the Banquet

The next day, while Dael was hauling jars of water into the kitchen, he spotted Flavia on the veranda again. He knew from the glow of her skin and her tousled hair she’d been out practicing with her sword. She was leaning on the railing and gazing out at the garden, eyes distant.

He paused beside her a respectful distance away. “My lady.”

She slewed him a sideways glance.

He corrected himself. “Flavia.”

She half-smiled. “Dael.”

“I hope practice was well,” he said.

Her smile brightened. “It was very well. Perhaps,” she said, “after the banquet, you'll join me.”

Hope, Restore

“Cook says you’ve been great help preparing for the banquet.” Flavia looked at him hopefully.

Dael knew better than to upset a member of the household proper and met her gaze. “I have learned much about cooking.”

Flavia must have seen the hesitation in his eyes, for she nodded and took a respectful step back. She went from exhausted girl to lady of the house in a single instant; Dael envied her ability to pretend.

“I will have Tertius restore you to you former duties. I’ll need you nearby for the banquet.” She turned away, paused. “Don’t forget your sword.”

Missing

He bowed his head deferentially and said, “Mistress.”

She sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you – I’m sorry.”

Dael lifted his head, startled. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard those words.

“I didn’t mean for Tertius to banish you to the kitchen.”

“I cannot question your wisdom in running your household –”

“I’ve missed you,” she said suddenly.

Dael fell quiet. He wanted to tell her he’d missed her too, he’d been desperate to kiss her again.

“I miss sparring with you, and...”

Of course. She missed her pet. Dael bit his lip and looked away.

Same Skies

The veranda stretching around the entire perimeter of the house afforded him excellent views of the night sky, and he wondered why he’d never looked before. Somewhere far away, his mother was looking at the same night sky, he knew it.

Dael tilted his head back and inhaled deeply, curled his hands into fists. He could feel it, blue power dancing just beneath a skin. On a night like this, if he wished it enough, he could raise a man from the dead.

Footsteps startled him, and he spun, ready for a bow or a sharp word.

Flavia said, “Dael.”

Born-Day

Dael knew his born-day instinctively, always woke the with a sense of alive he didn’t feel any other day of the year. Back home he’d know by the colors of the plants his born-day was close. Here, in this prison-land, he woke to it suddenly. When he took his waking breath, his first thought was that he’d see Ma, Da, and Cerdic. They’d eat all his favorite foods and share gifts.

Then he remembered where he was, so he worked silently all day, and saved enough energy to slip out and look at the stars that night.

Unnumbered Days

Dael spent the next unnumbered days - too many to count - banished to the kitchens, scrubbing and chopping and hauling, boiling and scraping and kneading. Quintus looked sympathetic, but Tertius just looked smug, as if Dael had received some sort of comeuppance he hadn’t even known he deserved. Most days Dael didn’t even get to stick his nose out of the kitchen, and if he had any notions of wandering around during his free time, Cook kept him so busy he just collapsed onto his pallet.

The few times he glimpsed Flavia, he noticed she looked as drained as he felt.

Cursed the Gods

Flavia shook her head. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” She turned and fled.

Dael started after her and nearly tripped over her sword. He caught himself just in time to watch Flavia vanish around the corner. He sighed, picked up the sword. He was a fool. She was his owner; he was just a slave who was particularly good at meeting her every strange whim, like sword-fighting and calling her by her given name.

But he was still a slave, and she was the one who owned him.

Dael cursed the gods, picked his sword, and headed for home.

No, Please, Again

Dael sucked in a shuddering breath. He tried to say her name, but instead of words what came out was a moan when his lips brushed hers, and then they were kissing.

Kissing.

He’d once kissed Damia, a girl in his village, when he was five, and Cerdic had told tales of kissing girls, how it was like dying and coming alive all at once, the world roaring in black and white and stars behind his eyelids and –

Flavia jerked back, her eyes wide, her expression stricken. “Dael, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

He reached for her. “No, please, again.”

Not Alone

Dael’s breath caught - up close, her eyes really were golden, flame-bright.

“Mistress,” he began, and she shook her head. The tip of her nose brushed his.

“I told you - call me Flavia,” she whispered.

She was close enough Dael could feel her warmth, could feel his own heart racing against his ribs.

“We’re not so different, you and I,” Flavia said, and she was so close their lips almost touched. “Both of us kidnapped, taken to places unknown, and burdened with inexplicable power.”

Fire. She could make fire. That’s why Dael felt so warm.

“With you I’m not alone.”

Nose-to-Nose

“I’m sure Angelus thinks so,” Flavia said. “But this place is so...different. Women here, while many are intelligent and well-spoken are fierce...” She shook her head. “I’m as much as a slave as you are - you just can’t see my chains.” She sat up. “But you’re right - I suppose I should head back, see to the banquet he’s hosting next week. We’ll have lots to prepare.”

Dael hauled his tired body to his feet, offered a hand to her. When he pulled her up, she rose lightly as a dancer, and then they were almost nose-to-nose.

Other Things

When they were exhausted, Flavia toppled over into the grass, her delighted laughter ringing in the air.

“You’re getting much better,” she said. “We can practice every day now.”

Dael sprawled beside her, careful to keep his sword within reach. He noticed she had done the same. “If you wish it.”

“You know I do.”

“Not to sound...impertinent, but don’t you have other things to do besides teach an uppity, disobedient slave how to wield a sword?” He tilted his head to look at her. In the fading sunlight, she was beautiful, the setting sun turning her skin golden.

Confused Moments

Dael didn’t know when Flavia spoke to Angelus, but one morning when he and Quintus were huddled over their morning bowls of gruel, Tertius stepped into the room and demanded Dael to his feet. Dael scrambled to obey, bowed, and had to fight off the urge to recoil when two servants descended and began putting their arms around his waist. A few confused moment later, he had a sword belt strapped to his waist, complete with a version of the sword he used to practice with Flavia.

And ten minutes later, he and Flavia were sparring in an open field.

Something Else

Dael rolled his eyes. “Living with the gods, or roaming the stars? You believe that?”

“Maybe. And maybe it’s something else.” Flavia tugged on his shoulder. “Hurry along now - we have things to do if we want to make this work.”

“Shouldn’t we train with a sword some more?”

“Yes, you should,” she said. “I need to have a word with Angelus and ensure you will have permission to carry a sword.”

Dael’s eyes lit up. “My own sword?”

“For my protection, of course. You saw how those guards were.” Flavia turned her nose up and mock-sniffed. “You ready?”

After Death

“Yes, me,” Dael agreed quietly.

Flavia sighed. Then she stepped closer, put a hand on his shoulder. “We won’t be like this forever. We’re both destined for greater things.”

“Really?” Dael lifted his head, searched her face.

“Really. Things now are complicated, but if we do this right, things will get better, and eventually we’ll be free of everything.”

Dael remembered the murmurs and groans of the men packed onto that ship with them, as they tossed on the waves and fell further and further from home.

“We’ll be free of everything when we’re dead.”

“There is life after death.”

Look at You

“How...?”

“Same way you do, I expect,” Flavia said. She shrugged. “I just...know how.” Her smile widened. “It’s always wonderful to find someone else who’s like us.”

“Us? Then Master Angelus –” Dael remembered himself and scrambled to catch up to Flavia.

“Don’t ask,” she said. “But yes. We aren’t so different, you and I.”

“I suppose you’re never cold in winter,” Dael said.

“And you are never ill.”

Dael nodded. “It’s true. But...why do you need me to protect you, if you can do that?”

“Because we’re not omnipotent, no matter our gifts. After all, look at you.”

Forward, Back

Dael believed her. There was something in her ringing tones, in her fierce golden eyes - he knew she could protect him. Just as he would protect her.

Then he said, “You won’t tell Master Angelus about what I can do,” he said.

Flavia turned and started toward home. “If you don’t want me to. I suspect he already knows.”

Dael stood rooted to the spot, shocked. “What? How?”

“Because he knows what I can do.”

“What you can do?”

Flavia smiled over her shoulder, and fluttered her fingers at him. Flames danced on her fingertips.

Dael fell back a step.

Duties and Promises

“Anything, Flavia,” Dael said.

She eyed him shrewdly, and for the first time in a long time Dael knew it was right to lift his head, draw himself tall.

“You must be willing to keep my secrets, even from Master Angelus,” she said.

He nodded. Was she going to overthrow her own cousin?

“And you must learn to become a fighter, better than any petty Roman soldier,” she said.

He nodded again. She’d been teaching him. He could learn, right? Of course, those soldiers were professionals, had gone to wars, slaughtered his people --

“I will keep you safe,” she said.

With Anything

As they walked home, Flavia told Dael a wonderful tale about an orphan boy raised in a forest like a half-wild animal who became a king after he was chosen by a magical gladius planted in a stone plinth. Just as Flavia was getting to the good part, where the boy’s former tormentors were forced to bow and confess him king, she paused.

“Dael,” she said, and she was still one of the few who could say his name right, bothered to say his name at all. “Will you help me?”

“With anything, my lady.”

“Please, call me Flavia.”

Grateful Tales

“I’ll heal,” Flavia said, ducking away from his hand, but Dael caught her chin and dragged her close.

“Let me,” he said again. Blue power sparked at his fingertips.

Flavia jumped, but she didn’t pull away, and Dael let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Everyone heals,” Dael said. And he smiled tentatively. “Maybe some people ought to heal faster.” He pushed the power into her gently, and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Thank you,” she whispered when it was done. Then her eyes opened, and she said, “Have you ever heard the tale of the sleeping king?”

All Right, Fine

A bugle sounded across the city, and the soldiers cursed, turned. They flung insults over their shoulders at Flavia and then fell into formation, marched on the double. Dael watched them go and wished Flavia let him carry his training gladius with him.

Not that he’d have been a match for any of the soldiers.

Once they were gone, Dael turned and helped Flavia to her feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked in broken Latin.

“Fine,” Flavia muttered, but her words were slurred from her wound. She pressed a hand to her mouth gingerly.

“Let me see,” Dael said.

Only So Powerful

Angelus wasn’t so powerful that Dael didn’t find himself standing between Flavia and four young men dressed as soldiers. Flavia pushed herself up, pressed a hand to the corner of her mouth where it bled. Her eyes blazed.

Dael knew that fury. He’d felt it himself the first time he realized he was property in this land.

The soldiers laughed, flung the word “stranger” at Flavia. Dael wasn’t sure what they were saying, but he knew it was rude from the way Flavia’s mouth tightened.

Dael held his arms out to shield her, and one of the soldiers stepped closer.

Stranger, Powerful

He didn’t have a chance to ask her about it for nearly a week, and then it was after they’d sparred beyond the fields again (he was getting minimally better, he thought), and he was out of breath.

Flavia looked barely stirred by the exhaustion.

“You don’t like the other women, do you?”

“They would marry my cousin and displace me from my own house,” Flavia said. “It is not easy, being a stranger in this land, and it is dangerous, being a powerful stranger.”

“You’re not citizens?”

“No, but Angelus is too powerful for anyone to complain of it.”

Somehow He Knew

What was more exhausting than sparring and shopping was dinner parties where Angelus’s soldier friends and their wives or sisters came to lounge around the house all day eating, making conversation, and listening to musicians play.

Dael was assigned to wait on Flavia, who was apparently assigned to make everyone happy. Dael couldn’t understand the words being flung rapidly back and forth between the cushioned benches everyone reclined on, but he knew these people were wealthy from the way they were dressed and their own servants cowered, moving among Angelus’s own.

And somehow he knew Flavia was angry at everything.

All Again

After sparring with Flavia beyond the fields, following her through the markets as she ordered food for the household, and waiting on Flavia and Angelus at supper (under Tertius’s watchful eye), Dael was exhausted. He fell onto the pallet beside Quintus’s and was asleep before he took his next breath.

When he awoke, Quintus shoved a bowl of gruel at him and attempted to ask where he’d been the day before. Dael didn’t know how to explain, and he suspected he shouldn’t tell anyone about the gladius, so he shrugged - and groaned at the thought of doing it all again.