The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(76)
“Listen to yourself!” I shook my head. “You’re actually giving credence to the third-hand boasting of a drink-addled brothel hound, Aeddan!”
So that was it, I thought, finally understanding Cai’s reluctance to even mention his conversation with Kass and realizing all along that I’d had nothing to worry about. It was ridiculous and embarrassing—nothing more than the delusional proclamations of a drunken degenerate—and I was sure he hadn’t wanted to tell me for fear that I might think less of a man I’d come to admire. His father. Senator Varro had been kind to me. Accepted me. Me. A gladiatrix, infamia, darling of the unwashed mob and wholly unsuited to even be seen talking with the likes of a senator’s son. Kassandra—and Aeddan—had it all wrong. And I couldn’t help but question Aeddan’s motives, at least.
“Did Kassandra tell you whether this fool, as you yourself call him, ever even mentioned Varro by name?” I asked.
Aeddan’s surety faltered. “No,” he admitted. “But if this Fabius is a protégé of Senator Varro—”
I put up a hand to forestall any more of his nonsense. “I’ve heard enough. You can rest assured I’ll be the first one to sound the war horns if I see even the shadow of one of those twisted bastards, believe me . . . But you’re striking at shadows that aren’t even there.”
“Am I?” He looked at me bleakly. “Tell me something, Fallon. Did you see any of the faces of the men that night in the catacombs of Domus Corvinus?” His eyes burned into me. “Do you think they were commoners? That party was attended by Rome’s powerful elite. How do you know Senator Varro wasn’t one of them?”
“How do you know he was?”
“I don’t. You’re right. And I don’t want to find myself in a situation where I can be certain. All I’m saying is . . . you’d better be careful. Keep hold of your wits—and your heart.”
“What could possibly have made you say such a thing?” I asked, growing angry again. How dare he even pretend to have a care for my heart. After everything he’d done . . . “Is this some sort of twisted jealousy, Aeddan? Because I know—I know—Cai would never betray me. Not for anything—”
“Not even for his father, Fallon?” Aeddan shook his head. “Lugh’s teeth! And you want to take us into the man’s very house. It’s folly. Dangerous folly.”
“Even if I believed you—which I don’t—what, exactly, is it that you think Senator Varro can do to us from the other side of the Ionian Sea, Aeddan?”
“He doesn’t need to be there to exert a powerful influence on his son, Fallon. Think about it—once we’re there, Cai will be surrounded by all the things that will remind him of the man who raised him, provided for him—”
“You’re wrong—”
“I know the way the Romans think!” he snapped. “Their parents are more like gods to them than family. They worship their ancestors! And if—if—it comes down to it . . . who do you think your handsome decurion will choose, Fallon?”
I was silent for a moment. Then I said, “Me.”
“Over blood?”
He stared at me, and I thought I saw a flicker of compassion in his eyes. It made me even angrier. How dare he pity me? “Stop it, Aeddan. I already know you tried to convice Cai to send me home—”
“For your own good—”
“And I know what he told you—”
“It’s blood, Fallon!”
“Like the blood you shared with Maelgwyn?” I scoffed. “That didn’t stop you from thrusting a knife through his heart!”
The minute the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Aeddan’s face looked like I had just slapped him with an armored fist. I wished desperately that he would just go. Take what freedom he had and, once the ship docked, leave. Leave me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what you expect from me, Aeddan—”
“Expect from you, Fallon?” His head snapped toward me, and his gaze burned where it fell on me. “I expect nothing. You’ve already taken everything from me that I could have ever hoped to offer. I have nothing. I am nothing. I have no tribe, no torc, no house . . . I have no brother—as you’ve so very graciously reminded me. No family. No honor. Thanks to you, Fallon ferch Virico, I’ve lost my very soul.”
“Then why do you stay? Why subject yourself to me like this?” I spat. “There’s a whole wide world out there. Leave, Aeddan.”
“That’s the irony of it.” He laughed bitterly. “I can’t. I’ve lost everything, and now, all I can do is make sure I don’t lose you. The one thing I could never have had in the first place. You can curse me, spit on me, ignore my warnings, and pretend I don’t even exist, but I will not leave you. I will do whatever I have to, to keep you safe. Because your safety, your life . . . your . . . you—the sum of all my nothings—is the only thing I have left.”
I stared at him, speechless and stunned.
“I expect nothing,” he murmured again, his gaze drifting from my face, unfocued. “But I’m not leaving.”
Silence descended between us, broken only by the snapping of the new sail overhead as it caught the wind and billowed full, and I realized in that moment that something I’d always accepted as truth was, in fact, a lie. Aeddan looked nothing like his brother. Nothing at all. I’d grown up thinking he and Mael were like two tapestries woven from the same threads. There were variations in the patterns, to be sure, but the similarities were far more striking than the differences. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. I couldn’t have been more wrong.