Surrender to the Roman by M.K. Chester Read Free Book Online Page A

together.
    Fresh resentment brewed in Ademeni’s heart. Although everything in the Forum was foreign to her, in truth, she was the most foreign thing within its borders. A princess no longer, not even in name. She’d lost everything but her style of dress.
    Roman matrons jeered at her clothing, pointing to her headscarf and testing the fabric of her loose gown with their fingers. When she pulled away, they scoffed, the sound raking down her back like a whip.
    Flora gave her no quarter, snapping her fingers when ready to move on. Ademeni wanted to flee, but one look at the maze of streets and she knew she wouldn’t get far on her own.
    Curse Marcus for forcing her out of the house! He’d acted as though this excursion would be good for her. She’d been too proud to admit her fears lest he think she’d weakened, but she wondered if he’d sent her out just to be humiliated.
    A sudden realization spread through her like a dose of slow, bitter medicine.
    She must learn these places. For her own survival she had to be able to navigate the streets. To become familiar enough with Rome to leave it. The outing now took on new meaning. When she managed to extract revenge, she’d have but a few precious moments to escape.
    Once she forced her panic to the back of her mind, she saw things with new eyes. Every strata of society mixed here, from the poor beggar and petty thief in the dust to the aristocrats who darted from their litters into the offices or baths lining each side of the avenue. Each had their usefulness.
    While nothing looked familiar, everything looked the same, cities being similar in purpose. She had only to learn the new pattern of this particular place. The hum of business in the morning. The sigh of leisure in the afternoon. The frenzy of entertainment during special events.
    “Come.” Flora snapped her fingers. “Stop gawking.”
    Ademeni’s small triumph faded under renewed attack from suspicious women in the street who had gathered behind them as they moved from here to there. The general commotion of the market was broken by their hissing stream of gossip.
    “She is one of them,” a young woman yelled into the crowd, her finger directing all eyes to Ademeni. “Look at her dress!”
    Heat rose in Ademeni’s cheeks and the hair prickled on the back of her neck. She faced her accuser and saw only rage directed at her. She’d always been protected, sheltered, even. Now, she relied on Flora to fend off the venom cast her way. This would never do.
    A stone hit her between the shoulder blades. As she turned her head, another grazed her cheek with its sharp edge. A third stone struck her hip. Stunned by this sudden turn, she stood frozen to the spot while stones and words were hurled.
    “My husband died in Dacia!”
    “On your knees, dog!”
    “An eye for an eye!”
    She gasped. They did not know to whom they spoke. Anger broke through fear and she straightened her spine to help raise her courage.
    Just as she prepared to lash out, Flora gripped her arm and jerked her through the tightening knot of women. A soldier appeared beside them, knuckles white around the handle of his gladius .
    Dodging him, they stumbled through the market. Emerging onto the street, Flora’s fingers dug in like talons around her wrist as she struggled to break free. “I told him you were not ready. I tell him, but he never listens—he’s too good a man to see. It’s too early, the widows are still angry and you insist on looking the part.”
    Digging her heels into the road, Ademeni stopped and reclaimed her arm with a forceful yank. “Let me loose.”
    Flora shook her head, chastising her. “You and your Dacian dress, your headscarf. You draw attention to yourself and wonder why they despise you.”
    “I did not ask Rome to sack my city,” she sputtered, the cut on her cheek stinging. “I did not ask to be brought here. There are widows where I come from, and I pity them.”
    The spark of anger in Flora faded, and for