Roman Flames

Chapter Thirty-One: Penultimate Victory

Chapter Thirty-One: Penultimate Victory

Vespera

“Oh heavens, Sanctius,” I gasped. He sat in front of me this morning with a bruised face and a healing cut on his lip. His room had been ransacked, but nothing was stolen. Not even his money.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Antonia took good care of me last night.”

“You mean to say you went back? You saw your family?”

He nodded.

“But…who did this to you?”

He raised his eyebrows, and I clenched my fists.

“Philotheus,” I said. I looked at Sanctius with pleading eyes. “Please, talk to my father. Tell him you want to marry me.”

“I will,” he said. “But even if I can talk to him, you’ve already been promised to Philotheus.”

“Like I’m some prize,” I growled.

“You’re not,” he quickly assured me. “Though Philotheus might think differently.”

I grabbed his hands in my own. “The sooner you talk to my father, the better.”

He sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here right now. Maybe Philotheus will target you next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” I pleaded. “Come with me. Talk to him now.”

Sanctius sighed. “Vespera, I hardly think I can go to him looking like this. A banker who can’t protect himself, let alone his daughter?”

“But you can. I know you.” I traced over a scar he had on his hand. He bit his lip and then looked at me, a new fire in his eyes.

“Then let’s go. Right now.” He stood and pulled me by the hand; he didn’t bother about his ransacked room or his bruised face. We stormed through the house and walked outside, his determination giving me hope. Hope for us and for our future.

People were glancing as we rushed past them, but I paid no heed. My heart was pounding hard; I had no idea how this was going to go, but this needed to be done. Sanctius kept biting his lip, and I wondered if he was second-guessing himself. I hoped he was composing good arguments in his head. And maybe Father would heed him. After all, he was a successful banker.

We got to my house and Sanctius let go of my hand. I wiped it on my thigh; I had been so nervous and my palms were nearly dripping. Sanctius turned to me and looked at me with his big hazel eyes.

“I promise you that we will be together.”

I nodded, and he knocked on our door.

Waiting for it to open seemed like an eternity.

“Hello?” It was Ignatius. Ignatius had answered the door. He looked at Sanctius and then at me. “Vespera,” he said. “And…” He studied Sanctius.

Sanctius cleared his throat. “My name is Marcus Axius from the Bank of Damascus.”

Ignatius looked skeptical, and he glanced at me. “Vespera…”

“He wants to talk to Father,” I said.

“Vespera—”

“It’s really important, Ignatius,” I begged.

“But—”

Sanctius cleared his throat. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Ignatius looked uneasy, but he let us in. “My father is in his study. It’s the first door that way.” He pointed.