Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(79)

He clasped her hand, leading her back to the stairs. “Perhaps, but we must wait to see what he says before we marry.”

She pulled up short, twisting from him. “But you said you would wed me once Princess Thia was weaned!”

He sighed. “It’s not so simple. You know that.”

“Yes, it is. Lord Mastarna might never come. If so, I want to spend my last days as your wife. I want to live with you and Nerie as a family. I want the child inside me to feel the warmth of both his parents as they embrace in bed.”

He closed his eyes. She could sense the struggle within him. To keep her distant would maintain his belief in Lord Mastarna.

She traced the serpent’s forked tongue and fangs on his cheek. He opened his eyes again.

“Let’s ask the queen for her permission, then.” He kissed her. “Let’s tell her about the baby and that I want to take you as my wife.”





THIRTY-FIVE





The strains of the lyre were poignant. Semni hesitated to interrupt the queen while she was playing. She knew she welcomed her solitude after attending to her daily duties and bidding her children good night.

Lady Caecilia sat in a wicker chair on the terrace in the fading light of the spring evening. She paused in her melody, resting the instrument on the claw-foot table beside her. She picked up the mirror with an ivory handle instead, examining its ornate back rather than gazing at her reflection.

Semni was nervous as she hovered at the door. Talk of a confession had slipped easily from her tongue when speaking to Arruns, but now she faltered. She’d broken faith once again with her mistress. She wished to speak to her alone first to ask forgiveness.

The princip sensed the nursemaid’s presence. She turned from her scrutiny of the mirror. “Semni, is something wrong? Is Thia ill?”

Semni waved her hands, palms outward in reassurance. “No, my lady. Don’t worry. The princess is sleeping.”

The queen sighed. “I wish it were not hunger that feeds her exhaustion.”

Semni felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry I have no more milk to give her.”

It was the noblewoman’s turn to gesture away concern. “You mustn’t apologize. Your milk saved her from the scourge. It’s not your fault you can no longer nourish her or your own son.” She pointed to an empty chair nearby. “Come and sit down, and tell me why you’re here.”

Semni perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped. “I have come to beg forgiveness yet again, mistress.”

Lady Caecilia’s body tensed, her voice rising in alarm. “Is this about Tas?”

“No. It’s about Arruns.”

“But he has recovered from the pestilence, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, my lady. He’s well.”

“I don’t understand, then. Why are you speaking of compassion?”

Semni bowed her head. “We have broken our promise to Lord Mastarna.”

The queen frowned in puzzlement, laying the mirror in her lap.

“He forbade us to lie as man and wife,” prompted Semni.

The princip’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure there will be more important issues to concern the king when he returns.” She gave a small smile. “Besides, what my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I fear he’ll know soon enough, mistress.”

Lady Caecilia reached forward and covered the girl’s hands with her own. “Oh, Semni. You’re with child? Aren’t you delighted?”

She nodded, beaming. “Yes, yes. I’m very happy. But Arruns is upset we disobeyed Lord Mastarna.”

The queen cocked her head to one side. “Then tell him not to fret. I know my husband. He once told me the Rasenna knew better than others how death stalks us. That in time Aita will deny us wine to drink, food to eat, and lips to kiss in this world. We are already deprived of the first two. As for the third—the king would not begrudge a man and woman snatching pleasure before they may be robbed of life.”

“So you would have no objection to Arruns marrying me now that I can no longer act as a wet nurse? Do you think Lord Tarchon will give us permission in the lucumo’s stead?”

Lady Caecilia squeezed her fingers. “Of course. And a wedding will cheer everyone’s spirits.”

The knot of apprehension in Semni’s stomach dissolved. She slipped to her knees, kissing the queen’s fingers. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you!”

Smiling, the princip withdrew her hand, knocking the mirror from her lap. Semni picked it up and stood, glancing at the engraving on its back. She recognized Areatha and Fufluns at once. Absorbed in each other, husband and wife were embracing, their lips a fraction from a kiss. The lovers’ youthful features were beautiful as they stood surrounded by intertwined ivy and vines leaves. She handed the looking glass back to the queen. “May I go now, mistress?”

To her surprise, Lady Caecilia gestured the maidservant to resume her seat. “You worship Fufluns, don’t you?”

Nonplussed, Semni sank into the chair. “Why, yes, mistress. I believe in the wine god.”

“So you have been initiated in the Mysteries?”

“Yes, I’m a follower. I wish I could attend a Spring Festival, though. But none have been conducted since the war began. The people haven’t been able to escape the city to revel under the stars.”