“You could pose as a noble,” he said grudgingly. “One from a distant province. A fifth child or something similar — less likely to be well-known.”
“It’s possible,” Septimus acknowledged. “But we’d need more money than we could make in the fighting ring in a year. You’d need appropriate clothing, supplies, and servants. How in Inferi are we going to manage that?”
This was the moment I’d waited for. Three weeks of searching, of rehearsing what I would say, how I would explain. Of carrying Drusus’s gold and wondering if it would be enough to earn her forgiveness. Of imagining her face when she saw me again — would there be joy? Hatred? Nothing at all?
I stood, pushed back my hood, and approached their table. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, weakness that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion and everything to do with the fear that she would turn me away.
“With this,” I said, dropping the heavy bag of coins onto their table.
The sound of gold hitting wood silenced their conversation instantly. Three heads snapped up to look at me, three expressions of shock so similar they might have been comical in any other circumstance.
Livia’s reaction cut deepest. Her face went through a rapid series of emotions — disbelief, joy, confusion, and finally, a guarded wariness that hurt more than outright anger would have. She was on her feet in an instant, momentarily overcoming her caution to throw her arms around me.
“Marcus!” The sound of my name on her lips was sweeter than I deserved. Her body pressed against mine, familiar and yet changed, stronger somehow. I was allowed one brief moment to hold her before she pulled back, wariness returning to her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice hard now, controlled. “How did you find us?”
I was acutely aware of Septimus and Tarshi rising to flank her, their stances protective. Ready to defend her from me, if necessary. The thought was a knife in my gut.
“I’ve been searching for you since the attack,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “I knew you’d come here. Where else would you go for revenge?”
“You stayed behind,” she said, the accusation plain in her voice. “You chose Drusus over freedom.”
“I chose wrong.” The admission felt like ripping open a wound. “I’ve made many wrong choices, Livia. But finding you — that’s the first right thing I’ve done in a long time.”
Septimus cut in, his eyes on the bag of gold. “Where did you get this money?”
“From Drusus’s strongbox,” I replied, meeting Livia’s gaze steadily. “After I killed him.”
Shock registered on all their faces. Livia’s eyes widened. “You killed Drusus? When? How?”
“During the attack,” I said quietly. “He begged, in the end.”
The satisfaction in my voice was ugly, but I couldn’t hide it. Wouldn’t hide it. Drusus had deserved every moment of terror, every desperate plea ignored.
“Why didn’t you just take the money and run?” Livia asked, her voice softer now. “Build that quiet life on a little farm somewhere, like you always talked about.”
“That was my old dream,” I said. “You’re my new dream, Livia. You have been for a long time.”
I saw Septimus flinch at that, saw the complicated look that passed between Livia and Tarshi. There were currents here I didn’t understand, relationships that had formed or changed in my absence. I pressed on anyway, needing to say what I’d rehearsed a thousand times.
“I’ve spent every day since the attack looking for you. I always told you to trust me, and the first time things got hard, I betrayed that trust. I won’t ask for it again.” My voice broke slightly, and I forced myself to continue, to meet her eyes. “But I’m begging you for a chance to redeem myself. To earn it back.”
Livia studied me, her expression unreadable. “And if I say no? If I tell you to go, to leave me to my path?”
The question was a blade between my ribs, but I’d prepared for it. “Then I go. The gold is yours regardless. Use it to fund whatever revenge you seek. I won’t stand in your way again.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with all that remained unsaid. I was acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat. Of Septimus’s hostile glare, Tarshi’s calculating gaze, the press of other tavern patrons who had begun to notice our tense tableau.
“How did you find us tonight?” Tarshi asked, his voice neutral.
“I heard about the fights. Went on the chance you might be there.” I kept my eyes on Livia. “I recognized you immediately. Followed you here.”
“You’re not alone,” Septimus stated rather than asked. His hand had drifted to where a weapon would be, if we weren’t in a public tavern.
“Octavia is with me,” I answered, seeing recognition flash in Livia’s eyes. “She escaped during the attack too. She’s been helping me search.”
“Octavia’s alive?” For the first time, genuine emotion broke through Livia’s careful mask. Relief, joy. “Where is she?”
