Aurelia || SERIES ROMANA I

Chapter 44 ~ Outwitted

Time eventually loses all meaning. Days and nights blur until you lose track. When Persia had lost track, she didn't know. Her mind was out of balance. In her mind, she frantically tried to make lists or remember how much time had passed since the door had closed behind the dead slave. Each time the latch slid shut, she hoped for them to finally get her out of here. But no one came to rescue her. No one came to get her for questioning. Every once in a while, a guard would come by and set out some food and drink for her. But what were they keeping her alive for? She had no choice but to squat alone with her thoughts in the dim light of her cell, awaiting her fate. Any other person would probably beg the gods for help in her situation. But she had lost her faith many years ago. Because either the gods wouldn't help her, or they couldn't. Either way, she was on her own.
When she closed her eyes, long-repressed memories stirred by the questions of the executed slave came to the surface, and when she roused from sleep with a tear-wet face, she felt nothing but emptiness. How she wished she were Mina again, the girl from a small Persian town whose world consisted only of her tiny speck of Persia. But as soon as she opened her eyes, she knew she could never be that girl again.
Rome had taken so much from her: her name, her family, her home, her faith, her freedom, and her virtue. She had never wanted to sacrifice her sanity to Rome, but it seemed to be slipping away from her more and more in this chaos. With every breath, she felt herself losing a piece of herself.
When the dungeon door was yanked open with a crash, she did not raise her eyes. If the guards who brought her food and water thought she was sleeping, they weren't taunting Persia. And why should she look up hopefully when they would just put a bowl in front of her anyway.
But instead of the familiar clatter of wood on stone, the caw of the heavy latch reached her ear, and confused, she looked up. Above her stood a very well-groomed man in his early thirties, eyeing her blankly. Behind him stood two hulking fellows.
"Hand her over to Agathe, but stay close," he instructed the two men, who immediately grabbed Persia's arms and pulled her to her shaky feet. Who was Agathe? Would they now take Persia to be tortured? Her heart began to race.
"Don't even think about escaping," he told her, "You'll never get out of here alive."
Her fear paralyzed her thoughts and so she neither asked the well-groomed man any questions nor resisted the rough hands that relentlessly dragged her from her cell and the dungeon. Blinking, she tried to adjust her eyes to the new light conditions and stumbled slightly.
The men took her to a small, windowless room with a tub and an old slave, Agathe. As soon as her guards had left the room and locked it, she was undressed by the old slave and put into the tub. There she scrubbed the stench and dirt of the dungeon from her skin and hair with little care. Before Persia knew it, she stood there clean and in fresh clothes and did not dare to ask the old woman her questions.
The old woman knocked three times on the door, the key moved in the lock and with a click the door was finally opened. The guards nodded curtly to Agathe, then grabbed Persia roughly again and led her into another, very elegant room.
Persia could just see that at one of the high windows a figure with his back to her was looking out on a magnificent garden. Then Persia was forced to her knees by her guards and instinctively she humbly lowered her gaze. Whoever that person was there at the window, they would decide Persia's fate. Persia's galloping heartbeat thundered in her ears. She was peripherally aware of her guards leaving the room with heavy footsteps.
Time seemed to stand still as she gazed at the ornate marble flow. Agonizingly slowly, the shadow of the person crept into her field of vision. After what seemed like an eternity, she gathered all her courage and her gaze darted upward. The figure still turned its back on her thoughtfully, as if it hadn't even noticed Persia's arrival. With a pounding heart, she dared to eye the figure. Blinded by the light of the incoming sun, Persia could only make out that it was a woman. Her long hair fell open to her slender hips, hiding her face.
Sudden anger rose in Persia. Why did she have to be made to kneel before another woman when she then completely ignored her. How she hated that these people thought they were better just because they were Roman. Why was she here?
"What do you want from me?" she brought out with difficulty, and the other woman slowly turned to face her. Much of her face remained hidden in shadow, only an amused smile Persia thought she could guess.
"I'm here to make you a deal," the woman replied calmly. Her voice sounded darkly familiar to Persia. A fine goose bump covered her body.
"Who are you?" she wanted to know, and the woman stepped out of the shadows into the glaring light of the sun. Persia gasped in amazement. Her anger dissipated and all that was left was chaos. Her body went cold and numb. Her stomach began to rebel. Her mind frantically tried to understand, but it just didn't make sense. She should be dead. She should be dead. Why was she still alive and returning her gaze so unbearably calmly? Of course, she had recognized the woman immediately. Because even though Persia had only caught a glimpse of her beautiful face in the torchlight, it had been burned into her memory. Such beauty could never be forgotten. The hair shone in the sunlight like spun gold. The intelligent, sea-blue eyes looked warm, calm, kind and wise, as if they knew all the secrets of this world long ago. Before Persia stood the slave girl from the dungeon. Her perfect lips twisted into a warm smile and the chill slowly drained from Persia's body. Perhaps she would somehow be able to make the Roman's good nature work for her, and hadn't she said just a moment ago that she wanted to make her a deal? Perhaps she was as beautiful as she was stupid.
"I am Aurelia Vespasia," the beauty introduced herself in a confidential tone, while that strange accent resonated in her voice. "For three days I have been the wife of the princeps whom you attempted to assassinate."
Mina's hopes shattered like a glass goblet on marble tiles. She was hopelessly lost. Never would she be able to trap this woman. For she had no doubt that this woman had been the cause of Persia's failure with the princeps. No woman could hold a man like him so tightly by beauty alone. Not even by looking like a mortal goddess. Deep down, Persia knew she had already fallen into Aurelia's trap. Whatever this mysterious stranger would propose to her, Persia would accept. Whatever it might cost her. Her mind collapsed, the room began to spin, from far away she heard Aurelia shout something, then she sank into deep, black silence.