Thelonius waved his arms up and down, splashing in the cold bath water as the afternoon sun glinted off of his soft blond hair. Clara ran squealing around the tub, her wild red hair flying behind her, as Thelonius continued to spray her with water. Peals of laughter filled the cramped courtyard as the two children played in the summer heat.
The corners of my mouth twitched as I watched the peaceful scene unfold before me. A soft gurgle escaped the lips of the resting babe in my arms and I rocked him against my chest to keep him from waking. His breathing soon became rhythmic again as he returned to his quiet slumber.
Two weeks had gone by since my first night at the brothel and they seemed to have gone by in a whirlwind of work. Immediately after arriving I had been given the job of caretaker to the children born out of wedlock by the women who worked there. At first I worried that my leg would inhibit me from performing my duties properly and give my identity away, but, like Merlin said, the wound healed within a day.
Normally the job was given to one of the younger girls, but Dorcas had begged Benita, the owner, to let me take over that role. She didn't take to the idea very quickly, claiming the brothel could make a lot of money off of me given my "savage" background. However, Dorcas convinced her that I wasn't quite right in the head and should only be given menial tasks to complete, including cleaning the rooms and doing the laundry. And so, for two weeks I had scrubbed floors, beat stains out of sheets and clothing with a wooden stick, and hushed crying children so that guests would not be disturbed.
During all of this time Merlin had not sent word to me once about meeting Marcus. To be honest, I was actually relieved that she hadn't sent word. The last person in the world I wanted to see right now was Marcus. The hole he had left in my heart was quickly filling in with a deep hatred for him.
Before I even considered meeting him I had to meet with Merlin. I needed to hear her explanation for why I should meet with the man who brought the downfall to my tribe and tonight would be the night. I had waited long enough.
"Laelia," a voice called out from overhead, breaking me out of my reverie.
My body flinched at the piercing noise and I looked up at the second-story window where Dorcas's head was poking out. I pressed a finger to my lips to quiet her and pointed to the sleeping Xanthus in my arms. Dorcas smiled back at me and mouthed the words "clean room", making a V with her fingers. I nodded my head in understanding and went in search of Odetta, leaving the comforting view behind.
After leaving Xanthus in the young girl's arms I retrieved the supplies I would need for the room: a bucket filled with water and horse piss, an old rag, a straw broom, and a new bed things. Once I had these items in hand I trudged my way up the old wooden steps and down the hall to the last door on the right.
I nudged the door open with my hip and dragged the supplies through its entrance. Sun filtered into the room through the window to my left as the sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze. Lifting my eyes from the bucket, I finally took notice of the half-naked man sitting on the bed in the center of the room.
The broom and brush fell from my hands in my shock, interrupting the silence with a loud clatter. My face flushed a deep shade of red as I bent down to pick up my tools while I profusely apologized to the man.
"Please forgive me, sir. I must have been mistaken about what room to clean. I believed that this one to be empty," I blubbered out an explanation in my embarrassment.
"It's quite alright. I should have left by now anyways," came a familiar deep rumble from the bed.
That voice! I know that voice!
The scene from three weeks ago replayed in my mind as I remembered who that voice belonged to. We will meet again Ariana of the Silurians, he had said to me then.
"You're. . ." my head shot up at the realization of who exactly sat before me and my gaze met those same pale blue eyes that had left me for dead on that field.
A snarl escaped my lips as I reached for the dagger strapped to my thigh and lunged at his throat on impulse. Just as recognition showed in his eyes, I had him pinned to the bed with the edge of my blade pressed against the soft flesh of his neck. A tingling sensation spread through my fingertips, sending heat up the length of my forearms. Ignoring the strange feeling that enveloped my fingers, I focused my attention on the man underneath me.
"Well, this isn't exactly how I imagined we would meet up, but it certainly does the trick," Marcus teased before I could go any further.
"Are you mocking me? You're responsible for killing everyone I loved and you left me for dead in that field," I spat at him, pressing the blade in deeper to his neck.
"No, I let you live in that field," he corrected, wiggling his neck away from the blade. "But, I cannot make excuses for what else happened that day."
A sorrowful shadow passed over his face before quickly disappearing and being replaced with a nonchalant façade.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now," I hissed.
He turned his head to face me, a thin red line forming underneath my blade, and he held my gaze. The humor that had once filled their depths was replaced with a profound anguish. It was an anguish that I knew well and it took my breath away.
"Because I can help you," he murmured.
"Lies," I accused.
"I want to help you," he insisted.
"You're lying." I screamed, the blade shaking in my hand.
As I stared down at him small droplets of water plopped onto his face. Using my free hand, I felt the wetness on my cheeks and growled as I clenched my fist. This was not supposed to happen. Marcus was not supposed to see this side of me. Now he had to die.
You can't kill him yet. You need each other. He can help you, came the wispy voice in my head.
I shook my head in frustration as I angrily squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears rushing down my cheeks. Marcus took that opportunity as his chance to overpower me.
He grabbed my wrist and effortlessly flipped me over, slamming me into the straw mattress. The dagger clattered to the floor as his muscled body towered over my own. He heaved a sigh as he ran his fingers through his wavy blond hair while his other clasped both my wrists above me head. I angled my face to the side, refusing to look him in the face after he'd seen me in such a vulnerable state.
"I don't expect you to forgive me or understand my actions on that day right now, but I am here to help you," he pleaded, sincerity ringing in his voice.
Narrowing my eyes, I scanned his face only to find a look of pure honesty devoid of any deceptive shadows and crevices. Unsatisfied with what I found, I pursed my lips and averted my gaze from his. The odds of him genuinely wanting to help me were slim. I had everything to gain from his help, and yet I had nothing to offer in return. Why would he turn on his own people to help me? Was he trying to atone for what he had done? Or was he setting me up?
Silence engulfed the small room as I tried to formulate a cohesive train of thought from the jumbled mess in my head. When I refused to acknowledge what he said, he sighed and released his hold on me, edging his way off the bed. I scrambled to the edge and hurriedly retrieved the dagger from where it had fallen on the floor. Marcus's back was to me as he pulled a cotton tunic over his head. It was the perfect opening and the temptation itched in my fingertips. But, I remained where I was.
"If you're going to kill me, make it quick," Marcus called over his shoulder.
Ignoring him, I eased the blade back into its leather holder on my thigh. Now was not the time to kill him. He was right. I needed him. I would use him for as long as possible while treading lightly in my dealings with him. Not knowing what he could possibly want from me made anxious, but it was a problem for another day.
Taking my continued silence as assurance that I wouldn't be killing him today, Marcus nonchalantly added, "Well, in that case, I'll see you next time with Merlin."
Before he exited the room, I rushed out the question, "How do you know Merlin?"
He briefly turned around to me again and said, "That's a story for another time."
***
The next morning I woke up at dawn during the quietest hours at the brothel. Not a soul would be up for a few more hours as everyone recouped from the night before. I tiptoed my way out of the room Dorcas and I shared, making sure that I didn't disturb her peaceful slumber, and crept out onto the dirt street.
The world outside the confines of the brothel was just waking up as the sun peaked over the city walls, enveloping the buildings in an orange glow. Tradesmen and merchants were just beginning to bustle about their work for the day as they heaved carts filled with fish, vegetables, and fresh loaves of bread. In the distance came the sound of the Roman officers as they practiced their morning drills.
Breathing in the crisp morning air, I made my way to the East Gate leading to the temple outside the city walls. I was just starting to get to know some of the people in town and said some quick greetings in passing to those who I knew. In mere minutes I had made my way to my destination and entered the octagonal building with its white walls and portico roofs.
As I entered the dim room I pushed the hood of my cloak back and saw a few other early risers had already beaten me there. I bit my lip and cursed my luck. I would have to wait for the room to empty before I could meet with Merlin.
In the front of the room was a stone table filled with lit candles and various offerings. I quietly walked down the narrow aisle separating the rows of benches and grabbed an incense stick from the pile. Lighting it from the flame of a burning candle, I faintly blew on it, spreading its sweet scent around me, and placed it in an adjacent jar. By the time I was finished with this ritual, the temple was finally free of people.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I quickly located the trap door hidden behind a large ionic column and made my way down to Merlin's room – or, rather, lair.