Palace of Darkness (42 page)

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Authors: Tracy L. Higley

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BOOK: Palace of Darkness
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Cassia pulled him to her, pressed his warm body against her own, and wept.

But the joy of the moment shattered in an instant as Hagiru gave a hideous shriek and rushed at the Roman contingent, the burning torch still held aloft.

The soldiers moved forward as one, and Cassia could not see which of them ran her though with his
gladius
. Hagiru bent over the blade, her eyes bulging and flecks of foam at her mouth.

Cassia covered Alexander’s eyes and turned his head.

The soldier yanked his blade from Hagiru’s belly. She still stood upon the altar steps, but now she staggered, the torch tracing a fiery circle in the air above her.

And then she fell, not to the steps, but backward, onto the altar. The torch fell with her, onto the oil-soaked wood. Flames leaped into
the night sky, raced in an orange-red line along the length of the altar, and engulfed Hagiru’s body.

The queen did not cry out, and Cassia prayed she had been dead before the first flame touched her body.

Cassia glanced at Obadas, but Bethea hid his face from the blaze.

The Romans turned as though the hideous, unplanned sacrifice meant nothing to them. Decimus approached her, and she pushed Alexander behind her.

“There is work to be done. Papers we will need you to sign, oaths to swear.”

The Romans had not kept their part of the bargain, for it was God who delivered Alexander into her hands, not them. But a peaceful annexation was best for the people of Petra. And she would give it to them.

She nodded, and a strange and settled peace seemed to fall upon the High Place.

If only Julian would appear. Cassia was tempted to call out for him, but it would not do for him to come now, when the Roman soldiers still ranged around her.

But then he was there anyway, down below the low stone wall, his eyes alight with relief and a magnificent smile on his lips. She smiled in return and lifted a hand.

Decimus followed her gaze, and she felt the crush of what she had brought upon Julian as the soldier drew up in surprise and held his sword out before himself. “Julian!”

His glance shot to Decimus. His mouth dropped open and he took a step backward.

Cassia looked between the two and in the frightful silence she said, “You are known to each other?”

Decimus turned his body toward Cassia, but his eyes did not leave Julian. “He is my brother.”

FIFTY

I
N THE BEATS OF SILENCE THAT FOLLOWED
D
ECIMUS

S
declaration, Cassia looked between the two and remembered how she had mistaken Decimus for Julian when she first saw him in the storage room of the palace. It was not simply the Roman profile, the wavy dark hair, she saw now. They did indeed resemble each other as brothers would.

So this was the brother who had not embraced the faith of his parents, who had gone his own direction.

“You are part of this?” Decimus’s eyes on Julian were at once curious and accusing.

“I am. And I have matters to which I must attend.”

Decimus scanned the plateau, taking in the thousands of people, the burning torches. “We saw things—” He broke off, as though unwilling to continue, but then inhaled and pressed on. “Fire and smoke coming from the mountain, and the rocks ran like rivers of blood.”

Julian nodded once, his gaze never leaving his brother’s.

Cassia held her breath, unsure of how this would end.

But then Decimus turned to her, as though Julian had not come. “Perhaps we should go to the palace to conduct our business.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed at the words. She took Alexander’s hand in her own. “I am ready.”

They walked past Julian, and Cassia allowed herself only a brief touch of his arm as they passed, though the touch sparked beneath her fingers and she longed still to speak her heart to him.

They climbed down from the High Place, she and Alexander, surrounded before and behind by Roman soldiers, as though to ensure she would not change her mind and defy them.

By the time they reached the palace, Cassia’s legs felt like quivering mud and she wished for a bed. But she led the way into the throne room, where word had already spread that both king and queen were dead, and palace slaves and servants thronged the room awaiting what would happen next.

The commander, Corvinus, arrived not long after, signaled by his soldiers that the city had been taken.

A table was brought, scrolls spread on them, and Cassia’s signature placed on one after the other. She read each document carefully, in spite of her burning eyes and the barely familiar Latin figures that swam across the parchment.

Alexander sat beside her on the platform for a while but soon succumbed and slept, his cheek pressed to the cold floor.

And then at last it was done, and Cassia lifted Alexander in her arms. Decimus offered to carry the boy, but she did not intend to give him up. They moved through the palace halls behind two slaves until they reached an empty bedchamber.

Cassia laid Alexander beneath a warm blanket and crawled under it beside him. He stirred awake and looked at her with sleepy eyes. “A thousand kisses, Mama?”

She pressed her lips to his soft cheek. “A thousand kisses, shekel.”

Now and always.

In the darkened street outside the palace walls, one Roman stalked before the steps, waiting for another Roman.

In the time it had taken to bring the church down from the High Place, to restore the believers to their homes, and to care for Malik’s body properly, Julian had ceased to wonder at the chance intersection with his brother. God was at work in this place tonight, and the appearance of his brother was part of that plan. Still, he paced as the commander, Corvinus, was summoned and rode in to sign treaties with Cassia. Julian longed to be at her side but knew better than to insert himself into a military matter.

When at last Decimus and the rest of his
contubernium
descended the palace steps, torchlight reflecting from their metal aprons and studded sandals, Julian stood his ground in the street and lifted his chin to his older brother.

“It is time we talked, Julian.” Decimus clapped him on the shoulder. “You live in this place?”

“Come.” Julian extended a hand. “I have somewhere we can go.”

In Malik’s
triclinium
, Julian stretched on one couch and his brother on another. Exhaustion swept Julian, and he pulled himself up to sit, for fear he would fall asleep. Thankfully, slaves brought salted bread and wine. The brothers did not speak as the slaves served them in silence.

“She asked about you,” Decimus said when they had gone. “The prince’s mother, Cassia.”

Julian half smiled and bit into his bread.

Decimus laughed. “If I had any question about your feelings, that answered it.”

Julian swallowed, then flexed the tight muscles of his shoulders. “She does not come from noble birth—”

Decimus waved a hand. “I have been too long away from Rome, in the lands of barbarians, to care about such things. She is an amazing woman. Don’t let her go.”

Julian grinned. “I do not intend to.”

“I have had letters from Rome.” Decimus grew serious and propped himself on one elbow. “Mother told me of Vita and the others.”

Julian lowered himself again to the cushion, unable to stay upright, his appetite gone. “I did nothing, Decimus. If you had been there, you would have stopped them.”

His brother lifted his cup. “You are wrong. I could have done nothing. Nor could you. It was not your fault, Julian.”

“They were innocent.”

Decimus set the cup on the table before him and scratched his unshaven jaw. “You know I have never ascribed to this faith you and our parents have embraced, this Jesus who provokes so many enemies. But I saw things on that cursed mountain tonight. Things I cannot explain.”

Julian nodded, eyes closed. “You saw the power of God, Decimus. The very hand of God.”

“Perhaps I have been foolish.”

“It is not too late.”

They talked long into the night then, and Julian’s exhaustion fled as he shared truth with Decimus, as he watched his brother open his heart at last. Joy filled him as the dissension of many years evaporated in the light of the Father’s love.

But when sleep came in the early-morning hours, Julian’s last thought was of Cassia.

FIFTY-ONE

C
ASSIA AWOKE TO BRIGHT SUNLIGHT AND AN EVEN BRIGHTER
smile from Alexander.

“Will we stay together now?” he asked when she rubbed her eyes and pulled herself up to sitting.

She kissed his cheek. “Always, shekel.”

Slaves brought them a tray of food, but Cassia ate little. Her mind had traveled through the city streets, into the housing district, to the home of a wealthy man and the one he was training to lead.

After they had eaten and dressed, Cassia took Alexander’s hand and they headed for the city. Soon she would need to speak to the people of Petra. To announce to them that last night the kingdom of Nabataea had become the Roman province of Arabia, peacefully and without bloodshed.

But for now, she wanted only peace with one person.

Alexander pulled his hand from hers as they walked, and she saw he had grown while apart from her, that he was finding his own
strength. The pang in her heart came from both a mother’s loss and a mother’s pride.

Malik’s home was filled to overflowing when they arrived. People she did not recognize crowded the front hall, and the courtyard was packed with more bodies than she could count. The previous night’s wonder had added greatly to their number. Across the courtyard, Cassia was only half surprised to see that Bethea had searched them out. Niv loomed over her like a protective older brother, his eyes locked on her face. Cassia smiled.

Julian spoke then, from the other side of the enclosure. The crowd quieted, and Cassia led Alexander forward until they could see Julian through a gap in the people.

Cassia’s heart clutched at the sight of a bier in front of him, laid out with the body of Malik.

He knew. He knew.

Julian was speaking, but she heard little of what he said. A shadow loomed at her shoulder, and she looked up into the face of Decimus. She narrowed her eyes, but he smiled.

“I’ve decided it is time to listen to my little brother.”

As Julian finished his tribute to Malik, his gaze fell upon Cassia.

She had thought to speak to him privately, but somehow in this moment it seemed she should speak her heart in front of the people she loved, in front of those he would lead.

The crowd parted to allow them to see each other.

Julian smiled. “Cassia, we thank God for your safety and for the deliverance of Alexander.”

She nodded. “As do I. For your God has become my God.”

He breathed deeply, as though a heavy weight fell from him. But she was not finished.

“It was you who showed Him to me, Julian. You who helped me
see that I could trust Him.” She stepped through the crowd, leaving Alexander in the care of Decimus. “You are a good man. A mighty man of God.”

Julian bowed his head, and she saw again how her words had hurt him once, and she sought to heal the wound.

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