40. The Loser

The Loser

Luella

I slip into my new room before I can do something I might regret. My skin is too tight, my bones not right. Everything about this body feels poorly designed, ill-fitting. Reaching into my pocket I grab a red stone and begin to shift, trying to find something that doesn’t fit so wrong. Higher cheekbones, no rounder. A prominent nose, a sharp one, a hooked one, a dainty one. Narrow eyes. Wide. Full lips. Thin. Flared hips and straight, curves and bones, and rags and jagged edges.

Until I hold the last stone, more golden than yellow. Tears soak my cheeks and I kneel on the floor, folding over my chance to be honest with myself.

I know the shape my body is yearning for now, but I can’t be her.

I won’t.

I sob over my last stone, and when it drains and reverts to black basanite I stay there, in a liar’s face, until morning comes.

Morning dawns to illuminate my quarters, which are awash in light greens and sunshine yellows: the sunslit version of Cassius'. Potted ferns nestle in the corners and skylights illuminate tapestries similar to his naturescapes, a well overflowing with vines, a temple flooded to the deities’ eyes. A second door surely connects to his neighboring room.

And I’m lying in the middle of it all, surrounded by black basanite. All of my stones drained, leaving me powerless and one step from my enemy’s door.

I ache from sleeping on the floor, from shifting my body relentlessly. From sobbing and feeling and dying.

From living.

There is an adjoined bath and the cold water jolts me awake. I avoid the gaze in my mirror, this version of Luella that I had created for Cassius. With wheat blonde hair and greenish blue eyes, it’s almost there. Almost her.

I’m almost me.

I planned to visit Mia today, and I will, but now I will have to visit Janus as well.

I don the only thing in the wardrobe, a pale pink dress that flows to the floor. It reminds me of something, although I can’t say what it is exactly. Perhaps one of my praeda had given me a similar gown in what Mia calls the hits and gifts cycle. Healers have a morbid sense of humor.

I don’t intend to truly sneak out, but I also don’t want to draw attention to myself. I press my ear against the door that leads to the hall. It’s quiet.

I try the handle and pause, then try again.

It’s locked.

Some moments feel as though they balance on a precipice. The decision you make could either slide you into victory or topple you into an abyss. I walk to the door that leads to Cassius' room and slowly try the handle. It turns.

I take a deep breath, then another. I knock softly but there’s no response. Perhaps I will be lucky and find Cassius is already out.

I am, of course, not lucky. He is sitting at a small table to the side of the bed, a soft beam from the skylight casting him in profile. His strong jaw and nose are regal, proud. A game board sits in front of him full of dark green and white Latrones pieces.

“Do you have company, Dominus?” I ask quietly, nodding towards the two person game obviously in progress.

“Luella.” Cassius smiles, the pensive expression on his face shattering with the flash of his teeth. “No, but I’d be happy to start a new game with you.” I must look confused, as he offers an explanation. “Flavia and some of the other maidservants for this wing, will move a piece when they are here. Of course I play with friends a faster game, but this one I like to leave going at all times. Long strategy,” he explains. Flavia must be his favored flora. A man often keeps one after marriage; it’s not unusual. It’s also not unusual for men to introduce me to them, to the new normal, in casual terms like this. It’s less brutal than Ledo’s method, and for that I am grateful. Besides, I’m not jealous.

Cassius will be dead soon. Well, not imminently considering his wish for a long engagement. But too soon for me to consider whether or not I care about Flavia being his favored. Because I don’t.

“I haven’t played Latrones,” I lie.

“Sit, I’m sure you have a mind for strategy,” Cassius says. Ah, so the game is back on.

“Yes, Dominus,” I say as I sit. He resets the board game. “Will Flavia be upset that I’ve ended her game?” I should not ask.

Cassius smiles. “Why would she?”

I shrug. “Perhaps she will feel replaced.”

“Ah,” he says, lining up the pawns in two rows on each side of the board. “You believe there is more than a game between us?” His pieces are white carved birds, except for the dux, which is a white tree. Mine are dark green lily pads and the dux is a large lotus bloom. It’s the most beautiful set I’ve seen. Many plebeians play with circle stones, and the dux a colored one or a small wood carving.

“I wouldn’t question you, Dominus.” If he wants to play strategy then let us play strategy.

“I think you would. In fact, I’d like you to. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“If you want to gain my trust, perhaps you could start by not locking me in my room.” I look up from the board, moving my first piece forward.

“If I hadn’t you wouldn’t be in mine right now,” Cassius says, smirking. I don’t hide my glare and he laughs. “I was worried about my brother. There’s a key in your nightstand, Luella.”

His eyes are steady, no flicker to the left or right, no crease in his brows. Open. My shoulders tighten and I stand, turn, and march into the other room. I move to the nightstand and as I rip it open, something clangs inside.

There, in the middle of the almost empty drawer, is a small iron key. I glare towards Cassius' room, even though he can’t see me. Tearing the key from its place I stomp towards my door.

It works.

I return to the table with the key in my pocket but I don’t meet Cassius' eyes. He’s moved one of his pawns so I move mine. He touches a pawn but doesn’t make his next play, and I finally look up. Once he’s sure he has my attention he says, “And I didn’t lock the door between our rooms, even though…” He must think better of that sentiment because he clears his throat. “Even though you haven’t given me any reason to trust you.”

“I haven’t given you any reason not to trust me,” I retort.

“That is still up for debate,” Cassius says, finally moving the pawn he’s been holding. It captures one of mine and I frown at the move. It’s allowed, but it’s not common.

“Fine. If you trust me, I’d like to go into the city today.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Alone.”

“I have concerns about that,” Cassius says, “but of course, I won’t stop you.”

“What concerns?”

“That my brother will…” he doesn’t finish this thought, either. I clear my throat when he doesn’t add anything after a moment.

“I know his type.” I leave the and yours unspoken. “I’ll be careful.”

“Am I allowed to ask where you are going?” Cassius says.

“I need to visit temple.” I move a new pawn forward, making the same move he did previously, and it allows me to take one of his.

“A pious woman, then?” He contemplates the board. He's a worthy opponent, which doesn't surprise me. “Do you have much to atone for?” His tone is teasing, joking. He’s trying to catch me with honey, and for a moment it almost works. My lips quirk, but I refuse to smile.

“Simply asking the gods to bless our union,” I say.

Cassius finally makes a move, opening a path for me to take his dux without realizing it. “Perhaps you should visit Fides,” he says. The goddess of trust and good faith.

I roll my eyes and take his dux. “That’s not necessarily who I had in mind,” I smile at the victory and he huffs. I’ve shown I’m not a novice at Latrones after all, but Agrippa hadn’t taught me for nothing.

“Just stay away from Mars, please?” He shakes his head as he clears the board. “I don’t want to go to war with you.”

“Because you’ll lose?” I tease.

But Cassius just nods. “Because I’ll lose.”