29. This Face

This Face

Luella

Cassius tugs me back into the room. I haven’t given up, but I have stopped fighting. I need to be careful. Clever. My priorities just became avoiding a cell and keeping my stones. A new face won’t do me any good if it’s locked up, and I still have work to do.

He shoves me towards the bed and moves to lock the door with a small key. How did he get that?

I can’t read what’s on his face. Fear? Anger, perhaps? He’s impassive. And he’s pulling a trick from my book by refusing to speak first.

Circling me, he goes to the bed and folds back the sheet I’d thrown over Ledo. He casually slides a hand to Ledo’s neck, checking his pulse. Cassius raises his brow at me after a moment. His movements are unhurried, worryingly apathetic.

The usual rules are out, and I speak first. “You were not invited to our marriage bed, Dominus.”

“A blessing, don’t you think?” He doesn’t smirk, as I expected. There’s no gloating, just understanding in his steel blue eyes.

“Why are you here?” I ask. The possibilities filter through my mind of where this night will end for me. The dungeon. In Cassius' room, where he’s likely grown more brazen with his abuse. Here, murdered next to my last victim. Public execution. All end up with me, dead or close to it.

“I was wondering why you brought up other floras being abused, but were so willing to marry Ledo anyways,” Cassius says.

“I’m sure it’s not a secret, Dominus, the way you and your brother and the Praetors treat women.” I spit the words now. If I am to die, I want him to know exactly what I think of him.

“Is that all?” he says, stepping closer.

“What else does there need to be?”

“Are. You. Her?” He growls, still advancing. I take a step back, but now I’m against the wall.

“Her?”

“Tisiphone.” He’s caged me in, an arm on each side. I crane my neck to look at him, forcing confusion into my face.

“I’m Skylar,” I say.

“Why did you kill him?”

He doesn't know. Not really. He guesses, and I can work with a guess. “I didn’t mean to. I meant to give him some sleeping drought… to lessen his…” I let myself take a breath, as if steadying myself. “To lessen his appetites. For the first night.”

“You knew what he was, I saw it in the garden. You’re not what you pretend to be,” he accuses.

“So? Who is what they pretend to be? I had no prospects, no dinarii, no familia!” I raise my voice. “I thought I could handle it. I would have. I just got… ” I trail off. He would believe this. He has to. My life depends on it. “I got scared. When it was my turn.” I gesture to the cabinet on the side of the room. Atop it, Ledo's whip glints with flecks of Flavia's blood.

Cassius' face softens, then just as quickly darkens when he sees the whip. “You’ve never done this before?”

“Done what? Accidentally overdosed my husband on sleeping drought?! Of course not.”

“What will you do if I let you go?”

What will I do? I’ll come back and kill you.

“You’ll never see my face again.” It’s not a lie. Not this face.

I’ll never wear this face again.