“I was warned about your penchant for sage wisdom.” The sarcasm in the Praetorian’s voice made the other man stiffen with what appeared to be anger.
It was impossible to be certain because the man’s manner was so restrained and dignified. He couldn’t even read the man’s thoughts. In fact, now that he thought about it, he’d not received any thoughts from the man at all. The only individual he knew of with that type of ability and control was a Sicari Lord. It was difficult to believe he was staring at a legend he’d only known through childhood stories. But with each passing second, he was growing more convinced this man actually was a Sicari Lord.
“Do not mistake wisdom as a sign that I’m a doddering old fool. I’m well prepared to do what I must.” The Sicari Lord’s voice was quiet, yet authoritative.
“Then prepare well, Eminence,” the Praetorian snapped viciously. “Because the next time we meet, you’ll die by my hand.”
“I am at your disposal, my son.” The Sicari Lord bowed slightly in what was almost a courtly gesture.
With a sharp sound of disgust, the Praetorian whirled around and vanished into the darkness. Frustration lashed through Lysander, and he glared at the Sicari Lord.
“W
hat the fuck!
You’re just going to let him go like that? The son of a bitch threatened my healer, and if I don’t stop him, he’s going to come after her.”
The Sicari Lord didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand, and two fighters emerged from the darkness. One of them a woman, she stepped forward and bent her head as the man whispered something to her. She nodded then stepped away and remained silent. The Sicari Lord turned to face him when he’d finished speaking to the woman. He pushed his hood back to show his face and arched an eyebrow at him.
There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but Lysander couldn’t place where he’d seen him before. The faintest whisper of the answer echoed in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t hear it clearly. At that precise instant, the Sicari Lord narrowed his gaze at him. For some reason, he could have sworn the man was disappointed in him, but he
couldn’t figure out why.
“You had a vision of Maximus and Cassiopeia.” It wasn’t a question. It was a simple, calmly spoken statement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lysander shook his head and met the man’s gaze steadily. A faint hint of a smile touched the man’s lips.
“It is said that Maximus loved Cassiopeia so much he killed her to save her.”
“I know the story,” he said with irritation. “But I fail to see what it has to do with me.”
“So you don’t remember the vision.”
The man’s question was simply another statement. The Sicari Lord was testing him. But for the life of him, he didn’t know why. He chose not to answer. The last thing he’d do was share his innermost desires, no matter what shape they took. He’d been dying. It was natural that the one person he loved above all others would fill his thoughts as that Praetorian
bastardo
choked the life out of him. The Sicari Lord tilted his head slightly in a contemplative manner.
“You were willing to give your life for Phaedra. Is that because she’s a Sicari or do you have some other reason to protect her?”
“She’s a valuable member of my team. What other reason would I need to protect her?” he said through clenched teeth. Hell. Was the man probing his thoughts without permission?
“There is always the possibility that you’re simply waiting for the opportunity to turn her over to your brethren.”
For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
Merda
, the man knew he had Praetorian blood. The bastard had definitely probed his thoughts without permission. Did he think his rank and position gave him the right to violate a Sicari’s thoughts and probe deep beneath the surface?
“I am
not
a traitor to the Sicari.” Ramrod straight, he eyed the man with furious contempt.
“Nor was Maximus to the Praetorian Guard, and yet Octavian painted him a traitor.” The Sicari Lord studied him for a moment then gave him an abrupt nod. “We shall see.”
“Instead of talking history to me, we should be going after that Praetorian son of a bitch.”
“He’s more concerned with destroying me now than he is with finding Phaedra,” the man replied.
“
Merda,
” he snapped with disgust. “How do you know that?”
“Because he knows who I am.” The Sicari Lord bent his head, his mood somber, almost bleak. A moment later, the man sent him an intent look. “The vision you had, have you had them before?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who’s probed my thoughts already,” he growled.
“Your thoughts were easy to hear without probing.” The Sicari Lord sent him a harsh look that was a silent reprimand. “I repeat. Have you had these visions before?”
His internal debate wasn’t going his way at all. This was a Sicari Lord, and as a Sicari, he owed obedience to the man. On top of that, something about the man said he wasn’t the type of man who let rules stand in the way of him gaining information. Deep inside of him, he identified with the Sicari Lord. If the means justified it, he broke the rules, too. And the idea of t
his
man probing his thoughts was far less appealing than sharing the fact that he’d been dreaming for some time. He released a noise of anger.
“Yes.”
“I’m certain you can expand on that.” Amusement in his voice, the man tucked his sword away under his cloak without looking away from Lysander.
“I’ve been dreaming about Maximus since I was a kid,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“That long.” The statement sounded more like the man was thinking out loud, and the way the Sicari Lord rubbed his chin only reinforced the notion that he was expecting something more from him. The man studied him intently. “I’m curious. Do I look familiar to you?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” He avoided a direct answer. This entire conversation was making him edgy.
“A straightforward one, I thought. So I shall ask again. Do I look familiar to you?”
“No.” Instinct made him throw up a mental block to ensure the Sicari Lord didn’t discover his lie. The man frowned, and again Lysander felt as though the man was disappointed in him.
“I see. And Phaedra? Has she mentioned any dreams?”
“Not to me, she hasn’t.” Growing more irritated by the minute, he glared at the man.
“But then you keep her at a distance, don’t you?” The Sicari Lord nodded as if suddenly having an epiphany. “In the days ahead, Condellaire, you must never question your
instincts. Don’t think. Act. It will save your life and that of the woman who is a part of your destiny.”
Deus
, the man wasn’t just a Sicari Lord, he was crazy. He needed a shovel to dig his way out of the crap this guy was handing him. The man facing him chuckled softly.
“I’m certain my sanity seems in question, but I assure you I’m quite sane. Things will reveal themselves in time,” the Sicari Lord said. “In the meantime, Cornelia will take you back to the safe house. When you arrive, tell the Prim
a Consul
that Marcus has found the boy. As for me, or my people, you are to say nothing. Secrecy is the greatest weapon I, and those who serve me, have against the Praetorians. Do I have your word?”
“What, you’re going to trust a half-breed’s word?” He sneered, still smarting at the way the Sicari Lord had questioned his loyalty to the Order.
“I have no choice.” The man sent him a look that said he expected a response.
“You have my word.”
“Be
ne
. However, if I discover you’ve broken your word, I’ll hunt you down and slit your throat.” The words were simple, matter-of-fact, but a deadly note ran beneath them. It wasn’t a threat, merely a fact.
“Understood, Eminence.”
Lysander bowed his head, and when he straightened, the Sicari Lord had already vanished into the night, taking one of his bodyguards with him. The woman called Cornelia moved to stand at his side, pulling a small Mag light from her pocket in the black leather jacket she wore. She quickly examined the wound on his arm and shrugged.
“You’ll live. Come.” With a sharp gesture, she indicated he was to follow her.
Wearily, he slid his sword back into the scabbard on his back and hurried after her. In silence, they moved quickly down the alley and wound their way through several dark streets toward the more populated sections. As he followed the Sicari woman, it was impossible not to reflect on the events of the past hour. If he weren’t the Le
gatus
, he’d most likely be whipped for doing something as stupid as going after the Praetorian without a partner. He grimaced. Actually, Atia was within her rights to order his punishment.
If it hadn’t been for the Sicari Lord’s arrival, the Prim
a Consul
wouldn’t have had the opportunity to even make such a decision. Ahead of him, the Sicari fighter moved quickly, yet with a stealth that amazed him. It was obvious the woman had received special training. Like the Sicari Lord, the woman revealed nothing to his senses. His skills were extensive, but hers clearly surpassed his by a large margin. P
articularly when
he failed to use his head.
He winced. A fine example he was setting for his team.
Something Atia would take great pleasure in pointing out.
They’d gone several blocks when she stopped in front of a sleek Italian sports car. Even though he was exhausted and in pain, he eyed the black vehicle with appreciation. It was a thing of beauty. He was learning Cornelia was a woman of few words as she nodded at him to get in. In less than a minute, they were in the compact vehicle with the engine revved up as the Sicari woman tooled the car through the dark streets. As they emerged from the quieter areas and encountered slightly heavier traffic, she darted the sports car in and out of the other vehicles with the skill of a stunt driver.
She didn’t ask for directions, and it was obvious she knew where she was going. Just as they’d done on foot through the dark alley-ways, they maintained their silence in the car. And even if he’d been in the mood for conversation, something told him Cornelia wouldn’t be interested in talking. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the car’s low headrest until the car’s rumbling became the soft purr of an idling engine.
“The safe house, Le
gatus
.”
With a nod, he got out of the car, and the minute he’d closed the door, the woman threw the car into gear and drove off without a backward glance. Weary to the bone, he blew out a harsh breath then entered the safe house. Less than a minute later, he was past the security door locks and was standing in the foyer. Usually, the house was dimly lit this time of the morning, but the glare of lights made him grimace. Marco had raised the alarm. A rush of footsteps made him brace himself as the sound of excited voices echoed out of the narrow hallway leading into the kitchen. Everyone was awake. Marcus didn’t seem to understand that the words c
ome looking for him
weren’t quite the same thing as rousing the entire household. He’d talk to his Primus
Pilus
about that later. Hoping to avoid questions until he could talk to Atia alone, he quickly strode toward the staircase. He’d only climbed two steps when the Prim
a Consul
appeared in the entryway followed by the rest of his team, including Phaedra. Too late. He averted his gaze from her and steeled himself for Atia’s inquisition.
“Where have you been? Marco says you wouldn’t tell him where you were going.” The
Prima Consul’s
tone wasn’t a question. It was an order that said she’d only tolerate a straightforward answer. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he turned to face her.
“I went looking for that Praetorian we discussed.”
When he’d sent Atia a text message after Phaedra’s assault, he’d made sure to let the
Prima Consul
know he was certain they were dealing with a Praetorian. Between his text message, and their short phone call afterward, the Prim
a Consul
knew Phaedra’s assailant wasn’t just a telepath, but possessed telekinetic skills as well. And while she’d not given him a direct order not to hunt the bastard down, Atia had made it clear he was to avoid the man.
“F
otte,
” Atia said with a sharp gasp of horror as she stared at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
He didn’t know what surprised him most, the language that was out of character for her, or the distinct fear echoing in the Prim
a Consul’s
voice. But it was the way her face had drained of color that worried him the most. He ignored the rest of the team spilling out into the foyer and hurried to her side. Atia brushed off his solicitous hand, her gaze focusing on his arm and then his throat.
“You’re injured. Phaedra.” The Prim
a Consul’s
voice rang out crisply.
It was a sharp command, and Phaedra, along with Cleo, pushed her way to the front of the small group gathered in the hall. Both women gasped when they saw him, but when Phaedra rushed toward him, it caught him off guard. He immediately retreated several feet, only to find his back pressed into the spindles of the staircase.
“
Mea Deus
, what happened to you?” Phaedra whispered as her hand lightly brushed across his throat.
Her touch was electric, but he didn’t want the pity he could hear in her voice. In a sharp move, he grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand away from his skin before releasing his grip on her. Even that touch had enough of a charge that it made him wish he hadn’t used up all his telekinetic ability just so he could push her away without touching her. Struggling to maintain his composure, he ignored Phaedra and looked at the Prima
Consul.
“I have a message for you, Madame
Consul
. I was instructed to tell you that Marcus has found the boy, and he’ll do what he must to resolve the matter.”
Gut instinct had told him Atia would find the message unsettling, but the last thing he’d expected from the Prim
a Consul
was for her to faint. Despite the way his body protested, he leaped forward and caught her before she hit the floor. The deep cut on his arm sent a shrieking message of protest through his shoulder as he lifted the older woman up into his arms.
