The Curse-Maker by Kelli Stanley Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t—”
    â€œGwyna—”
    She paused. “Yes, Ardur?”
    The old name slipped out naturally. “I—are you—I—”
    She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. “Spit it out.”
    â€œWe’re here—we’re here to make sure you’re—you get better.”
    She looked at me hard. I noticed, finally, what Philo already had: Her skin was too pale, too translucent. The litter stopped. I opened the curtain and peeked out. Before I could turn back to Gwyna, she jumped out from the other side and ran into the house.
    I tipped the bearers and followed her. Two of the slaves were up, and I told them to go to bed. No sign of Gwyna in the dining room, kitchen, or bath. I tried the courtyard.
    She was standing in front of a statue of Diana, her head bowed in the moonlight. I thought her cheeks looked wet.
    â€œGwyna. Listen. I’m doing everything I can to take care of you, but I need you to talk to me, tell me what I’m doing wrong. I love you—I love you more than my life. You are my life.”
    She faced me. There was anger in her trembling voice.
    â€œWhy did you come home clean, then? Why didn’t you surprise me, like you always do?” She burst into tears, and I pulled her to me. She made fists with her hands and hit me in the chest.
    â€œWhy, Arcturus? You don’t act like you love me—you—you keep me at a distance—ever since you came home—ever since you left—you act like you don’t need me!”
    She wrenched herself away from me, pushing me with all her strength, and ran sobbing into the house. I stood outside in the cold air for a while, thinking. Then I walked into the bedroom. I didn’t knock. She was sitting on the bed, huddled, facing the wall. I sat down and picked her up and held on to her.
    â€œGwyna, I need you. More than air, more than than anything. I wanted to run to you—tell you I needed you to manage the house, needed you to manage me. I’ve been stupid, and worried, and cautious, and I’ve just made it all worse. I’m sorry.”
    She looked at me, her face soft, while her hand caressed my cheek.
    â€œDo you want me to shave you?” she asked in a small voice.
    As an answer, I bent down and kissed her, gently, fully, my tongue exploring her mouth until I felt her respond. Then she pushed me away. An indescribable pain crossed her face.
    â€œI’m—I’m sorry, Ardur. Not yet.”
    I looked at my wife. Then I kissed her forehead, and her hair, and I laid her back in bed, tucking the covers around her, and kissed her eyes.
    â€œLet’s get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow, if we’re going to find out who murdered Rufus Bibax.”
    She looked up at me and smiled. She didn’t face the wall that night.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I woke up before she did. She was on her side, turned toward me. A small metal disk on a leather strap spilled out of her tunic. It was an Isis medallion, with the goddess on one side and Isis and Horus on the other. Gwyna had never shown much interest in foreign cults. Maybe Stricta gave it to her.
    She stretched and groaned and opened her eyes. Then she smiled, and the sun came out. “Hurry up and get dressed. We have work to do.”
    â€œAren’t you getting up?”
    She stretched again, like a temple cat on a warm stone step. “In a few minutes. You get dressed first.”
    Stalling so that we didn’t dress together. Just like last night. I swallowed my worry and asked: “What should I wear?”
    A game she enjoyed. After wrapping up in a cloak and clucking over the few clothes I’d brought, she pulled out a white undertunic, a dark brown outer tunic with gold trim, a studded military belt, and a green cloak—my only fashionable lacerna.
    â€œI’ll have to buy you a few more things. You didn’t bring your toga, did you?”
    â€œWhy the hell would I