The Centurion's Woman

Chapter 22

ALEX QUICKLY SCANNED the carnage around the room. Hades had already settled on one of the bodies, happily devouring an eye. All of the men that had come to collect her were still standing with no sign of further injury than when they'd all first been dragged into this building. The only movement except Hades was her gigno's friend as he tipped his sword down for Helena's body to slide off the blade.

        Alex spun around to look at the boy. Her emotions were churning hard, and she didn't know how to react. She was jealous of him – of course – but he was essentially her... what? Brother? Cousin? The hand-shaped bruising at his throat enraged her, and the look in his eyes when he lifted his gaze to meet hers was... scared. The scene around him, that he'd participated in creating, didn't create as much fear as looking at her and seeing possible rejection.

        Alex threw down her sword and took the two steps towards him that brought her close enough to jerk him into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her ribs slowly, but he squeezed hard in return, crushing out any feelings she might have had to make her not want him as family. Alex kissed his head, just above his ear as her gigno had always done to her, and smiled. When she stood back from the boy, holding his shoulders, he seemed to stand taller and grinned across at her.

        "The next time a man is to hold you at the throat, take out his eye," she said, miming a jab at herself with her thumb. It was something her gigno would say, but she didn't really know anything else.

        "I will," he promised, as she would have at his age.

        Alex swiped at the tears that had appeared on her face and retrieved her jian. The looks of jealous rage on both Ixillius and her gigno's friend at her attentions first going to the boy were almost identical. Not wanting to lose the thin connection she had with the older man, and knowing if she went to Ixillius first that she'd totally fall apart right now, Alex strode across the room to the boy's father.

        "Do not," he warned her, bringing his sword to bear on her. Alex stopped when the blade touched her chest. "Your father took my son," he accused, more than a decade of rage barely held in check.

        "Your son took my father," Alex stated simply in reply.

        Suddenly the fact that her gigno was really here, had raised a boy that stood nearby, had spoken to the man in front of her, crashed in on her. The letter she'd written had gone somewhere, to someone. She wasn't just putting notes in a bottle anymore, and the mixed look of hate and understanding that she now got from the man she'd sold a useless horse to confirmed that realization more than anything she'd seen or heard in the past months. Alex let the edges of her emotions spill over her cheeks, her features raw. The sword at her ribs slowly dropped away.

        Her head fell forward, her throat aching with the need to cry and her mind knowing this wasn't the time or place for a meltdown. A heavy hand rested on the back of her neck and the boy's father pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. His breath hitched roughly as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. He smelled like leather, horses, wool and blood. Like family.

        "I hate you," he said gently, his manner and tone all to the opposite, and Alex sobbed out a laugh.

        "You do," she agreed, sniffling and nodding as she stood straight again, pulling herself together. "We are enemies."

        "The worst of enemies," he agreed and wiped her cheeks dry with his thumb, and then chucked her chin as he had beside the road. "We will both hate each other until we are dead," he stated.

        "I will," Alex said, grateful for his gently gruff bearing that forced her to bury her feelings for the time being.

        "Good girl." He nodded curtly and turned to his son. "Lothar, come. We have to—"

        The boy cut off whatever he was going to say with an explosive hug that knocked the older man back half a step. Alex barked out a single laugh at the shocked expression on the father's face, and then turned away when his look softened so he and his son could have what looked like a much needed moment together.

                                                                 ***

        Ixillius had felt part of his heart die when Alex had turned to the boy, his jealousy flaring that she hadn't even glanced to him. Then, tears that had freely been shared with Chlodochar were safely stowed when her gaze finally landed on him, excluding him further from whatever was going on inside her thoughts. Her hand was cool and steady when she touched her fingers to his cheek. He leaned forward to kiss her and she turned her face away.

        "Please do not," she whispered, killing more of his heart. "I am in too many pieces, and we are not done."

        Brasus rescued him from trying to figure out the meaning of what she had murmured, bringing the hammer from Chlodochar's bag over to remove the shackles. Alex stepped away, squeezing Brasus's shoulder quickly with her hand and then walking over toward the back wall to collect her scabbard and cloak. Chlodochar and Lothar ended their quiet reunion – which had been sorely missed in the three months since Lothar had returned – and inched over to the door to scout the battle that could still be heard outside.

        Ixillius buried his inner turmoil, focusing instead on the next tasks at hand. They were all going to need to get out of the building, away from the village, and clear of the territory. Dario was waiting where Chlodochar had told him to stay along the route they were planning to take to escape, prepared to ambush any followers – if there were any.

        The shackles he'd been wearing for the day fell to the ground, and Ixillius took the hammer from Brasus to release the Optio. Before he made his first swing, one of the bodies moved and he glanced in that direction. Alex was taking a belt from one of the fallen men.

        "Don't be angry with her," Brasus cautioned quietly, catching the look on his friend's face. "We don't know yet what this week has been."

        Ixillius scoffed and turned back to the shackles his friend wore. He slammed out the pins and kicked the chains roughly to get them away from their feet. Chlodochar and Brasus both frowned at him sharply for the unnecessary noise and he scowled back at them. Brasus sighed tersely, turned away and scanned the room for a decent sword. Ixillius followed suit and found a well-balanced blade not far from where he stood. When he straightened, Alex was standing in front of him, holding out a belt that already had a dagger. The ornate scabbard of the sword she had used was already secured at her hip, and she held out another belt and dagger to Brasus when he walked back.

        Alex just looked... efficient. The creature Ixillius had released from the pit still held her, and her features were emotionless toward the men that had come to rescue her – including her husband, Ixillius nearly shouted at her. He and Brasus took the belts from her hand and strapped them on. Her movements when she walked to Chlodochar and Lothar were smooth. Her week of incarceration appeared to have affected her little, in sharp contrast to the bruising on her face and arms and the dried blood in her hair. She stepped behind Lothar and looked out the door over his shoulder, ensuring that she stayed mostly hidden, and pulled the boy back slightly so he was better concealed.

        "We need to find horses," Chlodochar muttered as Ixillius and Brasus stepped beside him.

        "I know where they are," Lothar replied, just as quiet.

        "We passed them on the way here," Brasus stated, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Max wasn't among them."

        "He was kept near me," Alex said, her voice hard and her eyes never leaving the fighting that was happening outside.

        "Opposite directions," Lothar stated quietly.