Inferno's Kiss (51 page)

“
Stop
.”

Dante’s voice wasn’t loud, but it rang out clearly in the large room. The fighter appeared ready to protest, before he reluctantly lowered his sword. A frantic look on her face, Marta twisted free of her captor and rushed to the wounded Praetorian’s side. She whispered something to him, but the man shook his head viciously.

“I wish to speak to the Sicari Lord,” he rasped. “Where is he?”

“You’re hurt.” Dante turned his head toward the healer standing on the edge of the circle of people surrounding the fallen Praetorian. “Noemi. See to his wound. Angelo, you and Samuel take him—”

“
No
.” The Praetorian almost shouted the word. “I’ve come to speak with the Sicari Lord.”

Desperation lingered in the man’s voice as he rejected Dante’s offer of help. Still bound to Dante by the blood bond cloth ties, Cleo quickly unwrapped the linen from her wrist. When he murmured a protest of surprise, she carried his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingertips.

“You have a job to do.” Her quiet explanation made him cup her cheek.

“I love you, Cleopatra.”

“I know.”

Turning back to the Praetorian crumpled on the floor, Dante knelt down so he was eye level with the man. “Either you’re a very brave man, Praetorian, or a fool. Which is it?”

“A little . . . of both, I think.” The wounded man grimaced as he shifted himself up into a sitting position. “Now take me to see . . . the Sicari Lord. I have a proposition for him.”

“
I
am the Sicari Lord, Praetorian.”

“Vorenus?” There was a distinct note of regret in the injured man’s voice, as if he expected Dante to tell him Marcus was dead and the news would sadden him.

“He has turned over his duties to me.”

“Then he still lives.”

“I do.” Marcus stepped forward into the Praetorian’s line of sight. “What is your name, Praetorian?”

“Verdi. Draco Verdi.”

“Tell me, Draco Verdi,” Marcus said quietly. “What is so important that you were willing to risk your life by entering the
Absconditus
to find me?”

“The
Tyet of Isis
.” The Praetorian’s words made Dante inhale a quick breath, and he shot a look up at his mentor, who had gone rigid.

“What about it?” Marcus asked quietly.

“I wish to return the contents.” Verdi’s face contorted with pain as he shifted his body slightly.

Dante met Marcus’s skeptical gaze, while a murmur of disbelief swept through the circle of warriors surrounding them. Placido emerged from the crowd like a boxer charging into the center of a boxing ring.

“Don’t trust him, boy,” the old Sicari Lord snapped with the vigor of a man half his age. “Praetorians can’t be trusted.”

“Draco Verdi is as much a man of honor as any Sicari here.” Marta stepped forward to glare at the ancient warrior. “I vouch for him.”

Placido eyed her with a mix of irritation and assessment at her defiant manner. When it was clear she wasn’t about to retreat beneath the old Sicari Lord’s harsh stare, Placido bowed slightly in Marta’s direction with a begrudging respect. A quick glance over his shoulder told Dante that his bride was as bewildered as he was by Marta’s championship of the Praetorian. Beside him, Marcus bent down to whisper in Dante’s ear.

“Trust isn’t the issue right now. The man will die if Noemi doesn’t heal him soon. Whether he’s lying or telling the truth, we need him alive to find out what he really wants.”

“Agreed,” Dante said with a sharp nod. He turned his head back to the wounded Praetorian. “Our healer will tend to your wound, and then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t—”

“The only reason you’re still alive, Verdi, is because of your assistance to Vorenus at the Tarpeian Rock.” Dante eyed the man harshly.

“My life . . . is of little consequence . . . unless I end the fighting between us.” Verdi reached for the breast pocket of his leather jacket, and two swords immediately pressed against his throat. The Praetorian closed his eyes then looked at Dante. “I brought it with me.”

Dante stiffened at the soft statement and stretched out his hand toward the man’s pocket. Strong fingers gripped his wrist. Startled, he met Marcus’s gaze.

“One can never tell where a serpent might hide. The
Absconditus
cannot afford to lose its leader.”

For a moment, Dante thought of protesting. He’d sensed nothing malevolent from the Praetorian, but he also recognized the wisdom of Marcus’s words. If Verdi excelled at hiding his thoughts, the man could have come here with assassination in mind. The Praetorian could have easily dusted the lining of his pocket with a poison that would penetrate the skin to reach the bloodstream.

“My word . . . I mean no harm,” Verdi rasped with another contorted expression.

“We shall see, Praetorian.” Slowly, Marcus reached into the man’s jacket and pulled out a box.

The circle surrounding them tightened as Dante and Marcus both stood upright. Dante frowned as the two of them studied the box. His mentor looked up at him as if to ask permission, and Dante nodded sharply. His mouth taut with tension, Marcus carefully opened the case. Inside was a crumbling piece of parchment and two flash drives.

“Jupiter’s Stone,” Marcus breathed with amazement.

“To earn . . . your . . . trust.” The Praetorian’s breathing had grown increasingly labored, and in the next moment he slumped to the floor of the ceremonial hall.

“
Draco
.” Although Marta’s exclamation was soft, the panic in her voice made several of the fighters in the circle eye her with suspicion and disapproval.

“Samuel. Angelo. Take him to the infirmary. Noemi, do what you can.” Before Dante had even finished speaking, two fighters stepped out of the crowd. As they carried the unconscious Praetorian out of the ceremonial hall, the healer and Marta followed close on their heels.

“Marta.” The woman halted the moment Dante said her name, but she didn’t turn to face him. “Do you know how the Praetorian gained access to the compound?”

She didn’t move for a long moment. Then, as if it pained her to do so, Marta turned around to face Dante with her shoulders back and head high. “
I
let him into the complex.”

Her answer didn’t surprise Dante. He’d assumed as much. “And your reason for such a treasonous act?”

“Draco saved my life when I was in the . . . he protected me after . . .” The moment her voice faltered, Dante clenched his jaw with regret. He should have questioned her in private and not subjected her to an open inquisition.

“We can discuss this—”

“I have nothing to hide.” Marta’s chin tilted upward with defiance. “Draco Verdi protected me while I was in that Praetorian hellhole. He’s a good man, and I’d trust him with my life. Draco came here to offer the Sicari a truce. He wouldn’t let me be his messenger. He insisted on doing it in person.”

“So you let him past our defenses.” Placido’s accusation was harsh as he chastised her from the edge of the circle of fighters. At Dante’s hard look, the ancient warrior batted the air with his hands in a gesture of exasperation.

“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Marta snapped as she sent the old Sicari Lord a rebellious look. “He knew there would be skeptics, and he believed putting his life on the line was the only way to convince Sicari such as you that he was sincere.”

Placido flushed at Marta’s fierce response and looked away from her defiant gaze. Satisfied that she’d silenced the old Sicari Lord, Marta turned back to Dante.

“Draco is the leader of a large contingent within the Collegium that was on the verge of overthrowing Nicostratus before he was killed. With the Patriarch gone, not even Monsignor Gregori has the power to prevent Draco from extending his hand in peace and friendship to us.” She fixed her gaze on Marcus. “You above all other Sicari should believe his sincerity,
il mio signore
. He helped save your life at the Tarpeian Rock not too long ago.”

Marcus met her gaze steadily as he nodded in agreement. “It’s true that without Verdi’s help I would have found it difficult to defeat the Praetorian Dominus.”

Hands clasped behind his back, Dante’s palm stung where the Dagger of Cassiopeia had sliced through his skin. It was a vivid reminder of Cleopatra and their bond. He reached out with his thoughts to brush against hers. The warmth of his wife’s reflections blended with his although she offered him no advice, only her gentle support.

“Under the circumstances, I’ll postpone any decision as to your punishment until
after
I’ve spoken with Verdi about his proposal.” The flash of relief in Marta’s eyes made him realize that despite her show of fearless defiance, she was more frightened than anyone suspected. “Since it’s obvious you’re concerned for the man’s welfare, go see how he’s doing.”

Marta nodded her thanks before spinning around and racing out of the room. As she disappeared through the doorway, a low rumble rolled through the large hall. It was a sound of skepticism battling with hope. Beside him, Marcus cleared his throat.

“Did someone forget to order wine for the occasion, or am I mistaken?”

The retired Sicari Lord’s gaze scanned the faces in the crowd that surrounded them. Almost immediately, everyone’s mood lightened and the guests broke apart to head toward the buffet that had been set up at the farthest end of the great hall. Marcus turned to Dante, his expression grave.

“The document and flash drives must be destroyed.”

“
You can’t do that,”
Atia exclaimed quietly as she moved to stand at Marcus’s side. Placido, Lysander, and Cleopatra completed the circle. “As
Prima Consul
, I can’t allow it.”

“Would you jeopardize the possibility of peace between the Praetorians and the Sicari?” Marcus blew out a harsh breath as he met Atia’s gaze.

“You can’t possibly expect me to just stand by while you destroy a document the Sicari have been searching for since the time of Maximus.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” Lysander said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And exactly who do you think gets to make the decision?” Atia arched her eyebrow in an imperious manner and glared at her
Celeris
.

“It’s the Sicari Lord’s responsibility,” Marcus responded in a gentle, yet firm, tone.

Snapping the box closed, Marcus handed it to Dante. His mentor’s words emphasized to Dante what he already knew. The decision to destroy or preserve the document was his decision and his alone. As the reigning Sicari Lord, his word was law not only in the
Absconditus
, but within the Order itself. Even before Marcus indicated his opinion about what to do with the parchment, Dante had known what was at stake. The document and the digital files had to be destroyed if there was to be peace between the Sicari and Praetorians.

“Then Dante must choose to keep the document.” Placido’s voice was inflexible steel. “We can’t trust a Praetorian to tell us the truth, let alone suggest there be a truce between us.”

“Can we afford
not
to believe him?” Dante said as his gaze met the old warrior’s.

The ancient Sicari Lord sneered with disgust but didn’t reply. Dante turned his head to meet the inscrutable gaze of his half brother. Resignation stretched the scarred tissue on Lysander’s face taut, emphasizing his grotesque disfigurement. If anyone had reason to despise the Praetorians it was him.

“I don’t think you really have a choice.” His half brother’s response made Atia and Placido both gasp with outrage, but Lysander didn’t bother to acknowledge their objections. “As long as that document exists, there will always be someone trying to steal it and solve its puzzle. And that
someone
could just as easily be a Sicari as a Praetorian.”

“Verdi brought us a peace offering.” Marcus’s forefinger tapped against the lid of the box the Praetorian had risked his life to deliver. “If the man is telling the truth about wanting an armistice between us, then we can’t possibly keep the document or the digital files.”

Throughout the debate, Cleopatra had remained a warm, comforting presence at Dante’s side. His gaze didn’t leave the box he held as he reached for his wife’s hand. Their fingers laced together until the wounds on their palms connected again. A pulse of energy zipped its way up his arm, and he waited for her to say something. When she didn’t speak, he gently squeezed her hand.

“You have nothing to say,
mea amor
?”
He turned his head toward her. A warm, loving smile curved her mouth.

“You’ve already made your decision, and that’s good enough for me. It’s in the best interest of
all
Sicari.”
There was a slight pause in her thoughts, before her eyes darkened with emotion.
“Including me.”

Her silent response was all the more reassuring because it illustrated she’d accepted that her Sicari heritage wasn’t defined by her abilities, but by her heart. Dante raised her hand to press his lips against the warm skin below her knuckles. He turned his attention back to the small group surrounding him.

“The matter can wait until tomorrow. Today is my blood bonding day, and I intend to enjoy it with my wife.”

Atia and Placido sputtered with outrage, but Dante didn’t give them a chance to form a protest. Instead, he slid the slim box into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled Cleopatra away from the group. As they walked away, Marcus followed them. When they were out of earshot of the others, the Sicari Lord coughed slightly.

“Might I have a word with Cleopatra? In private?” At Marcus’s request, Dante smiled and with a nod left the two of them alone. As Marcus watched his successor walk away, he clasped his hands behind his back.

“He’s a good man. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thank you.”

Cleopatra’s voice held a note of emotion that Marcus hoped would evolve into something deeper between the two of them. The short time they’d spent together had created a tenuous bond between them, and he wanted to strengthen that connection. It was the main reason he’d asked to talk with her alone. He cleared his throat, uncertain where to begin. It was a strange sensation, but ever since renewing his relationship with Atia, he’d been feeling unsettled in so many ways.