The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath) (17 page)

The only reason why her task was
not
impossible was because there were few architects to the wealthy. They often used the same codes for the homes they designed, and since Aurora had studied the codes of all the famed Roman architects during her training under The Order her task was somewhat easier.

The door was comprised of thirty-five bricks—five across and seven down, and not all of the bricks could be pressed inward. Aurora found thirteen bricks seemingly positioned randomly within the entryway that gave way easily. Anticipation danced through her. Thirteen bricks meant this was the work of the renowned Rabirius, and she knew all of his sequences. Over the course of her lessons, she’d always been particularly fascinated by his coded permutations and had studied him in earnest.

There were no letters or numerals, so she reasoned the code would have to be relatively simple. Aurora began with the easiest sequence of all—pushing each of the thirteen stones three times. When that did not work, Aurora went on to more complicated sequences she’d committed to her memory. Her eyes darted between the entrance to the pool, and the door before her. She did not hear footsteps, but she did not wish to explain why she stood facing a wall, shoving against stones, if she was discovered.

Aurora did not know how long she stood there, trying codes she knew, and even those she didn’t in the possible event Rabirius had created others. With each failed sequence, she discarded it, so as not to try it again.

Petricles would now be making his way back to this side of the villa, so Aurora attempted one last code, before she would have to stop. With her breath locked inside her chest, she pushed the stone in the center once, twice, and then the stone in the left-hand corner just once.

There was a faint click, followed by the sound of stone scraping against tile. A relieved smile crossed her face as the door slid open just a few palms length. She curled her fingers around the edge, pulling it the rest of the way.

She forced her body through the small space until she popped out on the other side, crouching within the dark passageway. She closed the door from inside and quickly made her way through the tunnel.

The air was damp, and she knew if she touched the stones around her, she would find them wet with moss. She was careful not to touch a thing, and grateful that she did not hear the scurrying of mice and rats, as was common in such chambers.

Unlike the Greeks, who designed their homes with interlocking tunnels that would form a labyrinth, the Romans did not connect their passageways. Aurora knew Claudius’ home had to possess several of these passageways, each one going from one destination to another, but still only
one
destination—so if this tunnel did not lead to Claudius’ private chambers, as she hoped, there was likely another one that did, hidden somewhere within his villa.

When Aurora reached the end of the passageway, she pressed her ear close to the mossy wet stones. She heard nothing and gathered the chambers on the other end were empty. That is what she hoped. For if they were not, she would find herself in a difficult predicament, one that could not be explained away.

With passageways such as these, Aurora knew the code used to get inside, was the same code that would let the person out. So she repeated the sequence, her movements, careful, cautious as she opened the door at the other end.

As she cracked open the door, she was met with more darkness. Stepping from the tunnel, she found herself within a small alcove. Creeping deeper into the room, she soon realized where she was.

She had been there once before, but had not immediately recognized her surroundings because she’d stood on the opposite end of the room.

Claudius’ formal
triclinieum—
the place where he held large feasts. Aurora stood just beyond the alcove, in between two couches, one for Claudius, the other, Cornelia. For large celebrations, this was where they would dine—

A muffled sound startled her, one she could not discern, but the interruption reminded her she’d lingered long enough. She returned to the passageway, closing the door firmly shut. She rushed through the darkened corridor, racing as fast as she could, though she was hunched over in the cramped space.

Soon, she arrived at the door to the baths and after entering the same sequence again, the door creaked open to let her out. She peeked into the bathing chambers, a sigh of relief escaping her when she found the room empty.

The guards had not returned, but the sound of footsteps drawing near told her to act quickly.

She squeezed through the doorway again and turned to push it closed until she heard a resounding click.

It was locked.

She spun around and prepared to leave, but drew up short when she nearly bowled over a slight figure.

“Artemisia,” she exclaimed, her hand covering her racing heart. “I did not see you there. What are you doing out of your quarters and at such a late hour?”

The girl was young, she was naïve, but she was not stupid.

“I was needed in the kitchen until late to help prepare for the feast that will accompany the games.” She scowled at Aurora, her gaze darting to the wall then back at her. “What were you just doing?” she demanded.

“Bathing, of course.” Aurora moved to step around the girl, but Artemisia blocked her path.

“You know what I mean. What were you doing coming out of that wall?”

Aurora’s heart thundered. With just the slip of her tongue, whether casual or intentional, Artemisia could ruin everything.

She raked the girl with her gaze, her voice cold and sharp as ice. “I do not know what you speak of, and I imagine if you told anyone I was coming out of a wall, they would think you mad.”

“I am not a fool.” Artemisia’s eyes narrowed. “Nor am I blind. You discovered a secret passageway.”

Aurora remained silent, her face revealing neither surprise, nor guilt. Her expression revealed nothing at all.

“I shall not tell anyone. You can trust me.”

Aurora was not in the habit of trusting others. Vacant eyes from her past flashed before her, wrenching at Aurora’s heart until she was forced to swallow the knot in her throat. She’d
almost
made that mistake once, on her last mission, with Imogene, and look what had happened. She’d not revealed a thing to Imogene, and still the girl had suffered.

Artemisia may believe she would not tell a soul, but she’d never been tortured, she’d never experienced merciless pain. A person would reveal the darkest of secrets when faced with such unimaginable horrors.

Aurora moved to sidestep her again, and this time the girl let her go, but called to her before she could exit.

“You do not believe you can trust me.”

Aurora regarded Artemisia with narrowed eyes. “It is not personal. I do not trust anyone.”

“That is a sad existence. To have no one to confide in.”

Artemisia’s statement was so unexpected, Aurora’s eyes rounded, before she gathered herself.

“Maybe it is, but I have never known any different.”

Artemisia tilted her head just slightly, regarding Aurora from beneath hooded lashes. Her eyes filled with compassion as she spoke softly. “But I am sure one day you shall.”

Artemisia sounded so convinced. That brought a wry smile to Aurora’s lips, and she did not have the heart to tell the young woman that she was wrong, so she said instead, “Maybe.”

* * * *

Aurora was still awake when Artemisia returned from the baths.

What was Petricles about just letting every slave wander around these days? That was the question she’d mulled over since returning to her quarters. If Artemisia had been escorted directly to her chambers until Aurora returned from the baths, the girl would never have happened upon her.

Artemisia finding her was all but ideal. First Cyrus, and now Artemisia. In all her years as a Keeper, she’d never encountered so much suspicion.

When Artemisia returned from bathing, Aurora was stretched out upon her pallet, her hands behind her head as she stared up at the gray ceiling made of mud and brick.

The door closed behind the girl, and Petricles locked it as he always did at night.

Aurora did not close her eyes, she did not pretend to sleep, but neither did she watch Artemisia closely.

Artemisia had seen her coming from the secret chambers, there was nothing she could do to change that. If the girl did not remain quiet, Aurora would simply have to devise a plan to deal with her, or she would simply have to hasten her mission, which meant reckless actions that could get her killed.

Neither option sat well with her.

She scowled at Artemisia, whose back was to her. This was not the girl’s fault, it was
hers
. She should have been more careful.

With that realization, the frown upon her face eased and she started to look away, but a flash of bronze snared her attention. She stilled at the sight of the small amulet within Artemisia’s hand.

When the girl curled her fist around it, Aurora sat up straight.

“What is that?” she asked, before she thought to stop herself. She’d seen it upon Artemisia once before, and thought she may have imagined it, but this time she’d gotten a clear glimpse and recognized the symbol.

Artemisia looked at her in surprise, then down at her hand, but Aurora noticed she didn’t open her hand again. Quite the opposite, she shoved the object beneath her pallet.

“It is a necklace,” Artemisia answered.

“I know it is a necklace.” Aurora had to force herself not to snap at the girl. “What is the amulet? What is its meaning?”

Aurora had no doubt as to the amulet’s meaning, but she wanted to know what was Artemisia’s story for possessing such an object, because Aurora would never believe it had been
given
to the girl.

Now she fully understood why Artemisia had questioned the meaning of her tattoo, but if the girl possessed the amulet then she
knew
very well the meaning of the mark upon Aurora’s body. She scrutinized Artemisia very closely. It just could
not
be, but there was always a chance that—

“I do not know. It was my sister’s. That’s why I was curious of your tattoo because I too wondered of the symbol’s meaning.”

Aurora shrugged. “Well, it is as I said. I do not know the meaning of the symbol. The tattoo was given to me by my old
dominus
.” She lied effortlessly, and every muscle in her body began to ease until she remembered all of what Artemisia had said.

“Your sister?”
Artemisia’s sister was an acolyte?
“I did not know you had a sister.”

Aurora almost envied the wistful smile upon Artemisia’s lips.
She
had a sister—four of them. Though she’d been sacrificed to save them, she could not imagine their eyes glowing with such love when they thought of her. It had been so long since she’d seen her sisters, she did not even remember how it felt to love
them
in return.

The lump forming inside her throat was so unexpected it almost choked her. She swallowed deeply, as if it was a bitter pumice, and then she buried the memories.

“Maia, that is my sister’s name. She is two years older than I, and we were brought here together.” Artemisia’s face darkened with shadows. “I should not tell you this—” The girl’s voice wavered. “But I spoke of you trusting me—and how can you trust me, if I do not trust you in return, right?”

Artemisia stared at her as if expecting something in response, so she nodded. “That is right.”

A smile crossed Artemisia’s face, but Aurora noticed it did not quite reach her eyes.

“Claudius tried to take Maia to his bed, but she refused him. She fought back savagely, until our
domina
came upon them. Cornelia was furious with him, while
he
was furious with Maia. He had her whipped and then he sent her away.” Her eyes darted around as if she feared saying more would result in her own punishment as well. “I thought he sold her to another
dominus,
but I learned later that Claudius did not. I learned later that he deals in trades with slavers who purchase tavern whores, and that is who he sold my sister to. But it is worse than that. He has done this to many others. If he no longer favors you, you shall not be sold to another
dominus,
he will sell you to one of those taverns where one is treated cruelly.”

Aurora wanted to tell Artemisia that it was
worse
than that even. That Claudius did this with the children of parents he also did not favor—children of freeborn citizens of Rome, which by law were not to be forcibly sold into slavery.

“I am sorry,” was what she
did
say. “Where is Maia now?”

“I do not know, but I mean to find out.”

“How?”

Artemisia shrugged. “I suppose I shall ask Claudius some day. Before I gain my freedom and leave from here, I will ask him of Maia’s whereabouts.”

“Do you think he will tell you honestly?”

“He has no reason not to. He already made a profit off of her, and that was truly all he wanted. He has nothing to lose by telling me the truth.”

But neither did he stand to gain anything in return. By all appearances, Claudius was not given to undue cruelty, but if Maia had spurned him…he may very well have a twisted wish that she suffer.