16. Deny Me

Deny Me

Luella

I sit in front of the small vanity, tucked into the bathing chamber of my rented rooms. My long blonde hair hangs to my waist as I set about untangling the strands, working them into something less wild.

Something less like me.

The comb rips out a small snarl as my eyes snag on the crumpled invitation lying on the edge of the desk. Its thick parchment reeks of privilege, but the words offend me more.

Ledo’s invited me to dinner. A very, very late dinner. An unrespectable time for dinner.

He’s moving too quickly, growing bolder, and while I’m hardly above sleeping with him to remain close and gather information, the girl’s eyes from last night keep looking back at me in the mirror.

I take a breath in, ripping another knot of golden strands loose. My goal is too important to let a body that isn’t even mine interfere. I wouldn’t be broken by a man like him, not by any man. Playing his mistress could work, even if it means no safe engagement period.

“I can handle it,” I say to my reflection, then exhale, meet my own gaze. “I can handle it.”

My hand shakes as I lay the comb down. This peculiar, vile feeling worming its way into my gut must be fear. I should never have let myself see what he did. Mia’s report would have sufficed, just like in the past.

It’s always easier if you don’t see.

But that girl deserved to be seen, and now she deserves to be avenged. To know that this will never happen to her again.

I gather my mass of hair to one side and begin to plait it. There’s too much hanging in the balance for me to let emotion cloud my judgment. This isn’t about me. It isn’t even about the Praetor, although he makes an excellent praeda. He’s just a means to an end.

This is about the Emperor.

Getting to him might require sacrifice, but I’ve sacrificed too much already to stop now. It’s just pain. Mia can heal me, as she’d healed that girl. Besides, I refuse to let fear over potential outcomes rule me. I will plan for it, and let it go.

I am in control.

I send my response to Ledo and then visit Mia.

Taln answers the door. “Good day, Skylar,” he says, eyes widening.

“Good morning,” I say as he moves to allow me entry. We don’t speak of last night as I head to the staff area. Mia sits at the table while a pot simmers on the small wood-stove in the corner.

“He’s invited me for dinner tomorrow.” I sink into the chair nearest the door. “A very late dinner. Do you have anything he doesn’t have to drink? A powder I can use or something to put on my lips?” She’s always experimenting with creative countermeasures for the women of Divus, but she tries to make them perfect and always keeps them secret until they’re ready.

Mia’s brow wrinkles in disapproval. “Lue…”

“I’m almost there, Mi.” I let her see it. The desperation beneath every face I’ve ever worn. Instead of time tempering me, it’s fueled me. Last night was another reminder that for every day I waste, the Emperor and men like him are hurting women, children, and sometimes even men.

They're hurting whomever they want.

Mia takes a breath. “You take your drops?”

“Every day. I’m up to twenty,” I say. I’d increased my dose when she gave me the stronger paralytics for Ledo. They counteract the potions Mia crafts for me, so I’m safe from her concoctions.

“I have a small capsule you can crush in your mouth. It’s a work in progress, and you have to be kissing him.” Mia grimaces. “Or spit in his mouth I guess.”

I snort. “I don’t need much incentive for the second option.”

Mia rolls her eyes but gets up to grab the capsules. She brings a small tin of white beads. I reach out and touch one, rolling the small sphere between my fingers.

“It’s soft,” I say.

“I thought it would blend in with teeth. Women could roll it between their back teeth, ready to bite down if they needed to use it. I call them pearls.” I like this one. Clever, easy. Once she’d created an acid that could be smashed against an attacker’s face, burning their skin. I liked that one, too. I was burned by it a few too many times though, and now Mia wouldn’t let anyone use it.

“I’m immune with the drops?” I confirm.

Mia nods and then says, “I’ve been mixing them with the Lace herbs, too. For my other patients.”

The herb many women take to prevent pregnancy, it makes sense they want the drops mixed in. A plan for both scenarios. I clear my throat. “I will need some Lace, too.”

Mia’s eyes snap up to mine but I look away.

“Just in case,” I say.

I’m not sure which of us I’m trying to convince.

It’s not a secret that the republic is a sham. The Praetors and Senators who make the laws dine with and attempt to influence the Emperor, but in the end only his opinion matters. The same is true of the Gods. No matter which temple you visit, which sacrifices you offer, how many stones you bring to be filled with power, only their judgment matters.

Which is why I make the trek to the temple of Janus every day I’m not pursuing praeda. Black basanite stones weigh down my satchel as I enter the small temple at the edge of the Peridota forest. Jupiter's temples are kilometers high, stone columns and arches reaching to the heavens. Juno’s and Venus' are similarly prominent with positions near the Domus Aurea.

Janus doesn’t need such fanfare. Or perhaps they wish for it, and that is why they reward my visits so generously.

The square pool at the center of the small temple is overrun with water lilies, the dense green of the pads interspersed with white and pink blooms. Now that is a respectable flower, fighting through the weight of the water to burst free at the surface. The archways allow the light from both suns to dance across the placid stillness and allow glimpses of the small fish darting beneath.

I place the basanite at the altar of the two-faced god, and step back. The stone statue above morphs between male and female facial features, the magic shifting continually beneath the surface as the stone attempts to hold the essence of a god. Strong noses, then thin, pouting lips, tight smiles, eyes wide set and then narrow. Janus is a kaleidoscope of features that’s both beautiful and dizzying.

Then I make my offering. I have offered much to Janus, but today I bring a meal of goat, grapes, and wine for us to enjoy. I tell Janus of my plans as I eat my portion of the offering. I don’t know if they care what I do with their gift from so long ago, but I like to think they do. I like to think they’re in on it all, that they blessed me for a reason.

“Then the Emperor,” I tell Janus as I pop the last grape into my mouth, bursting it open. “Then I can rest.”

I’m not sure if Janus likes this plan, but after the meal my basanite is restored with power. My stones now shimmer, awash in gold, orange, and red.

I don’t pray to Janus for strength. If I wanted that I would petition the pater, Jupiter, or the god of war, Mars. No; I pray to Janus for new faces. New opportunities to carry out my plans. New beginnings.

They haven’t denied me yet.