motionless, breathless, as she and Athaulf gazed at one another. Gigi didn’t move, either, not even to brush away her tears.
Magnus wasn’t with them.
• • •
Darkness was falling. Placidia paced the study, clasping and unclasping her hands as Persis and Elpidia hovered nearby, lighting candles.
Frowning, Placidia knew what she was about to do could seal her fate forever, cutting her off from everything she’d ever known. But she didn’t care, at least not enough to change her mind.
After the delays brought on by the joyous reunion, King Alaric had pronounced his terms. He declared his control over the Western Empire. He appointed Senator Attalus “Augustus” over Rome. As for Honorius, his status was undecided, and Placidia didn’t know whether he would be allowed to rule as a co-emperor, or be deposed. His future, everyone’s future, and the fate of the Empire, were now in the king’s hands.
Attalus would run everything, with Alaric’s direction. Meanwhile, Alaric had taken the title of magister militum , something he’d sought ever since Stilicho’s death, and there was also talk of land grants. But, for now, Rome’s grain supply in Africa had to be secured for the new government. The Visigoths would still have to wait for their land.
And Magnus — such horror! After the briefest moment of relief at the news of his survival, Gigi was devastated by the tales that had sent him abroad on a fruitless quest. Placidia knew she was heartsick, knew she should go to her friend, but she was compelled, for the moment, to follow another path.
Standing near the door, one eyebrow cocked in disapproval, Elpidia cleared her throat and opened the door to Athaulf when he arrived. She bowed and left the room, dragging a staring Persis with her.
He was here at last! Placidia swallowed, then gazed at Athaulf for several moments. Standing in his presence, she was amazed anew, for he was the embodiment of male beauty, his features sheer perfection, his stance noble, his shoulders broad. And his eyes! They were mesmerizing, flickering golden brown, then green, dazzling in the candlelight.
Athaulf dipped his head, very formal. “Princess, you requested my presence?”
Placidia’s heart pounded, and she found it hard to speak. “You … Athaulf, you brought us food. I knew it was you from the first, because of the, the … your scent was on the satchel.”
He looked taken aback, unmasked as he was.
“Tell me,” she asked, breathless, trying to focus and remain calm, “why did you endanger yourself for … for us?”
“I did it for you alone, Placidia.”
She stood without responding, his beautiful eyes boring into hers, and she longed to rush into his arms.
“I couldn’t bear to think you were suffering,” he added. His hand moved slightly, and for the first time, Placidia noticed he held a silk bag. “I return this to you with the gratitude of a people and with my heartfelt thanks.”
Placidia approached him, her knees wobbly, her steps slow and uncertain. She felt small and vulnerable when she finally reached his side, for he was almost a head taller than she.
He pressed the bag into her hand, then stood back. “We shall never forget your generosity, but this is yours, must always be yours. You wore it when first we met.”
She smiled, feeling the weight of emeralds and gold, her necklace returned, the gesture so touching. “Thank you,” she said, then impulsively added, “I owe you my life, and I would bestow a kiss of gratitude upon you, but you must kneel, for I cannot reach so high.”
Athaulf went down on one knee, still keeping to protocol, and Placidia breathed in his scent. Leather. Lavender. She leaned in and touched her lips to his right cheek. Closing her eyes, she lingered against the warmth of his skin, then moved back slightly to kiss his other cheek, but her will gave way to desire and she brushed her lips against his instead.
“Athaulf,” she whispered.
He returned her
Magnus wasn’t with them.
• • •
Darkness was falling. Placidia paced the study, clasping and unclasping her hands as Persis and Elpidia hovered nearby, lighting candles.
Frowning, Placidia knew what she was about to do could seal her fate forever, cutting her off from everything she’d ever known. But she didn’t care, at least not enough to change her mind.
After the delays brought on by the joyous reunion, King Alaric had pronounced his terms. He declared his control over the Western Empire. He appointed Senator Attalus “Augustus” over Rome. As for Honorius, his status was undecided, and Placidia didn’t know whether he would be allowed to rule as a co-emperor, or be deposed. His future, everyone’s future, and the fate of the Empire, were now in the king’s hands.
Attalus would run everything, with Alaric’s direction. Meanwhile, Alaric had taken the title of magister militum , something he’d sought ever since Stilicho’s death, and there was also talk of land grants. But, for now, Rome’s grain supply in Africa had to be secured for the new government. The Visigoths would still have to wait for their land.
And Magnus — such horror! After the briefest moment of relief at the news of his survival, Gigi was devastated by the tales that had sent him abroad on a fruitless quest. Placidia knew she was heartsick, knew she should go to her friend, but she was compelled, for the moment, to follow another path.
Standing near the door, one eyebrow cocked in disapproval, Elpidia cleared her throat and opened the door to Athaulf when he arrived. She bowed and left the room, dragging a staring Persis with her.
He was here at last! Placidia swallowed, then gazed at Athaulf for several moments. Standing in his presence, she was amazed anew, for he was the embodiment of male beauty, his features sheer perfection, his stance noble, his shoulders broad. And his eyes! They were mesmerizing, flickering golden brown, then green, dazzling in the candlelight.
Athaulf dipped his head, very formal. “Princess, you requested my presence?”
Placidia’s heart pounded, and she found it hard to speak. “You … Athaulf, you brought us food. I knew it was you from the first, because of the, the … your scent was on the satchel.”
He looked taken aback, unmasked as he was.
“Tell me,” she asked, breathless, trying to focus and remain calm, “why did you endanger yourself for … for us?”
“I did it for you alone, Placidia.”
She stood without responding, his beautiful eyes boring into hers, and she longed to rush into his arms.
“I couldn’t bear to think you were suffering,” he added. His hand moved slightly, and for the first time, Placidia noticed he held a silk bag. “I return this to you with the gratitude of a people and with my heartfelt thanks.”
Placidia approached him, her knees wobbly, her steps slow and uncertain. She felt small and vulnerable when she finally reached his side, for he was almost a head taller than she.
He pressed the bag into her hand, then stood back. “We shall never forget your generosity, but this is yours, must always be yours. You wore it when first we met.”
She smiled, feeling the weight of emeralds and gold, her necklace returned, the gesture so touching. “Thank you,” she said, then impulsively added, “I owe you my life, and I would bestow a kiss of gratitude upon you, but you must kneel, for I cannot reach so high.”
Athaulf went down on one knee, still keeping to protocol, and Placidia breathed in his scent. Leather. Lavender. She leaned in and touched her lips to his right cheek. Closing her eyes, she lingered against the warmth of his skin, then moved back slightly to kiss his other cheek, but her will gave way to desire and she brushed her lips against his instead.
“Athaulf,” she whispered.
He returned her
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