12. Blooms

Blooms

Luella

Ledo is almost handsome in his black trousers. The barbarian fashion is one I greatly appreciate being adopted here in Divus, compared to the haughty robes that used to dominate. I smile at him as we enter the circular ballroom.

The Domus Aurea is all limestone, circular spires reaching to the dark clouds above them, and the ballroom is no exception. The white tablecloths match the walls, and the colorful roses adorning every table provide contrast.

I am thankful for my lack of smell, but still feel my nose trying to wrinkle at the, probably abhorrent, perfume.

The room is packed full of Senators, Praetors, and consuls. If Silas were still alive, I have no doubt he’d be here as well. I recognize some of the other men that Mia had looked into at some time or other. Lucky for them, her research hadn’t warranted a visit from me.

The Emperor appears to be absent, which suits me just fine. I don’t need him complicating tonight. It’s the end of the clipse of Venus, so there is dancing, riotous music, and more food than the entirety of Divus could eat, much less just this ballroom.

“Care to dance?” Ledo asks, noting my eyes sweeping across the room. The chandeliers above cast flickering light across his face and I can’t discern what’s in his look. Desire?

“Of course.” I smile, taking his arm as he leads me out just as a new song begins to play. The string instruments start out slow, mournful.

“Perfect,” Ledo murmurs, drawing me against him. I giggle and Ledo’s rough hand finds the open skin of my back while he holds my hand with the other. “This dress is too much.”

“Then why did you pick it out?” I say, already knowing the answer. I force myself to lean in instead of away, urge pliancy into my movements. The subtle lies I paint with my body are a dance I’ve done my whole life.

“I knew you’d be delicious in it,” he says.

I make a sound of disapproval low in my throat but wear a smile.

Difficult.

Worthy of chase.

His hand flexes against my skin at the sound, and he tightens his grip as we turn with the music, our chests flush. The musicians reach a crescendo and Ledo leans in close to my ear to be heard. His lips brush across the shell as he whispers, “I’d like to take you to the garden.”

I fight a smile. Ledo is as predictable as I’d expected. Now I would see if he’d be pursuing more with Skylar, as was ideal, or if he would try to take me back to his room tonight. I had plans for either, but I want a wedding. Not only would it be easier, but without access to the Domus Aurea, I’d be no closer to my true target.

Ledo’s ownership would dispel any suspicion. I might obtain information from him, but also from others in the Domus Aurea. Wives don’t try to hurt their husbands and they certainly don’t try to poison them, kill them, and flee. Nor would a wife be able to learn anything that might be useful in coming back to kill someone else in the Domus Aurea.

Well, most wives.

As the song finishes, Ledo tugs me through the crowded ballroom, towards the back garden. The suns are setting, the flowers casting deep disfigured shadows across the cobblestone walking path.

He leads me to, of course, the roses.

With the traitorous blooms bursting around us, one of his hands dips beneath the opening in my dress, caressing my backside beneath it, while the other snakes into my hair, tilting my mouth to his. I let out a breathy moan, leaning into him. His grip tightens and he bites my lip, sucking the bottom one into his mouth.

There is no proposal coming tonight. He’s too urgent, too needy.

Instead of gagging, I whimper, forcing my stomach to relax, urging the bile to stay down.

“Skylar,” Ledo groans, grinding into me.

“Ledo,” I breathe back. “Praetor, we have to stop.”

“Why?” he asks, trailing kisses down my jaw, finding the junction of my neck and shoulder and sucking the skin into his mouth, trying to tempt me.

Idiot.

“I cannot,” I complain, throwing my head back as if in ecstasy. “I cannot dishonor my familia name.”

This is the moment. I make sure my eyes are slitted so I can watch every micro-expression on his face. This is the most dangerous part, saying no. It has to go perfectly. His ego must be primed, while still making sure he believes my reasons. He has to believe them, too. He has to agree.

A man like Ledo disagreeing won’t end well, but the question is always ‘for who?’

“Is this?” Ledo doesn’t ask the question, and maybe a lady wouldn’t answer anyways, so I just nod.

“I’ve never…” I let my irritation sweep into my eyes and cheeks, warp it into embarrassment. His lips turn up slightly, his eyes darken.

He’s considering. I bite my lip and let my breath come out harsh. Ragged.

Break me.

Own me.

Use me.

I urge him, pleading with my eyes. Pleading with my heaving breasts and my thighs pressed together. Marriage means nothing to him. That means he won’t be opposed to the idea itself, but to the ceremony of it. The steps in the way of what he wants.

Yet he must enjoy some aspect of marriage, or he wouldn’t keep doing it.

I lick my lips, waiting.

“You’re right, Skylar. I’m sorry,” Ledo says, kissing me softly, removing his hands. “Let’s return to the ball.”

I don’t relax. The danger hasn’t passed yet. “Do you mind if I collect myself?” I say, looking down, smoothing the front of my dress.

“Of course, I’ll meet you at our table,” he says. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling like a wolf, thinking I’m a mess of desire.

As he departs, I force my heart to slow its furious pace, allowing each breath to wash through me. Being here, in the Domus Aurea, has me on edge, and I can’t afford any distractions.

I reach out to the nearest rosebush. The blooms are bright red, nearly crimson in the fading light. I cup the petals in my palm, careful to keep my fingers high on the stem to avoid any of the thorns.

It’s beautiful in some ways. Maybe that’s why I hate them. Or perhaps I’m just contrary in every sense of the word.

Maybe I’ve spent so long pretending to be otherwise that I can’t just enjoy a pretty thing anymore.

My palm closes of its own accord, smashing the petals beneath my fist before I give the bloom a sharp tug, ripping it from its stem. I drop the mangled red bud onto the cobblestone path, smiling, then reach for another.