Mastarna eyed the dish disdainfully. “I’d prefer it if I was only being declared zilath for one year. I’d still be required to wear the paint, but at least I wouldn’t feel like a hypocrite. You know I’ve always protested against electing a king instead of a chief magistrate. And now I’m being crowned one to rule our city until my death.”
She sighed and moved a stool to sit close by him, placing the bowl on a repository table. She clasped his hand. “This is what the people want, Vel. They want a ruler to finish this siege without the need for annual elections. They respect you. Why, even your rivals from the Tulumnes clan have placed aside old enmities to support you when the College of Principes voted. And before that, the High Council unanimously decided you were the only candidate. It’s unprecedented.”
He glanced down at his sling. “And yet I lost my last battle to General Camillus’s Romans. More than half my army was massacred. The men of my tribe lost. I don’t deserve to be elected Veii’s leader after that.”
Caecilia squeezed his fingers. “Of course you do. You’re Veii’s greatest general. Until the Battle of Blood and Hail, you always managed to keep the supply lines free to the north. If King Kurvenas had sent reinforcements instead of shutting the gates against his own troops, I’m sure the result would have been different.”
He frowned. “I doubt it. His perfidy caused suffering, but two Roman armies had surrounded us.”
“And yet Veii did not fall. The divine Queen Uni sent hail that day to drive our enemies from the battlefield and save you. I pray to the goddess every day to favor our city over Rome.” She smiled. “She’ll favor you as king also, Vel.”
Mastarna scanned her face. “I never thought to hear a Roman condoning a monarch.”
Caecilia tensed, withdrawing her fingers from his. “I’m no longer Roman. You know that.” She rose and crossed the chamber to walk through the tall bronze doors to the tiled terrace with its fountain and rose garden. The autumn air was crisp, the sky cloudless. She drew her mantle around her as she stopped at the wall that enclosed the terrace, its massive ashlar blocks encircling the high citadel upon which the palace stood.
On the ridge across from her sat the Roman camp, the ravine between them razed of woodland, the stark snaking outline of siege works following the contours of the valleys. She knew such trenches bordered Veii for miles.
For a moment, she recalled her first sight of her new home as she traveled along the road where the Roman camp was now situated: the dizzying heights of the ridge, then the plunge to the valley to the juncture of two rivers, then up again to the plateaued city with its high arx beyond.
There were still sparse pockets of green in places. There should have been a scene of rich autumnal tints crowning the hills, or clothing dense glades, and red-and-gray tufa gorges. And beyond there should have been a patchwork of verdant undulating farmlands with flocks and herds sprinkled across meadows. Instead the Romans had felled most of the woods. The hub of roads that surrounded Veii, which led to places and lands Caecilia still hoped to see, were now deserted. Only Roman armies marched upon those trade routes now. And the rivers were bereft of boats. Trade had dwindled to nothing.
Ten years of war. Ten years of bloodshed. Ten years of conflict with the city of her birth. Rome claimed she had started a war when she’d chosen Vel Mastarna and his people. The truth was not so simple, but one thing was clear. She had never intended to betray Rome. But knowing its generals sought her destruction, she was prepared to welcome the role of traitoress now. After ten years of seeking peace, she had hardened her heart.
Mastarna appeared beside her, encircling her waist with his good arm. She faced him. “I’ve renounced my city, Vel. I seek its downfall. I am Veientane.”
He stroked her cheek. “My warrioress. I named you ‘Bellatrix’ after Orion’s star because I thought you brave, but you’ve become as fierce as any of my soldiers. I’m glad you are on Veii’s side.”
She pointed to the enemy camp. “How long before you think assistance will arrive? General Camillus sits on our doorstep. It’s been almost two seasons now since fresh supplies have reached the city. I thought our northern commander, Thefarie Ulthes, would’ve marched from Falerii by now to relieve us.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what’s delaying him. The Roman bastard has squeezed us so tightly that not even spies have made their way through with news. But I will not give up hope. Veii cisterns are full, so we will not die of thirst. And it’s clear our wall won’t be breached. No enemy has ever done so. Veii is impregnable. This citadel sits astride a high cliff. Two rivers gird us in their embrace.”
“Walls can protect us, but without food, what use are stones?” She stared into the distance. “Camillus means to starve us out.”
Mastarna also surveyed the Roman camp. “He’ll be gone in winter. The Romans elect new consular generals each December. Once he’s no longer in office, a different, lesser commander will be in charge. Perhaps that’s what Thefarie is waiting for. A chance to attack once Furius Camillus no longer holds command. Wait and see. He’ll break through the siege lines in winter. We need to keep our resolve.”
“And if Thefarie reaches us? Will you then consider attacking Rome? Unlike Veii, their wall can be easily stormed.”
He turned to her. “There’s little prospect of that until this siege can be stopped. Let’s pray to Nortia, goddess of Fate, this is what she wants for Veii.”
Caecilia felt a familiar sense of guilt rise in her but suppressed it. She knew she could not continue keeping secrets from him much longer. “I believe Nortia wants Rome to fall.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “All I know is that I’m grateful the deity brought us together. I believe she did so for a reason. And one day we’ll live in peace together.”
Her stubbornness emerged. “Only when Rome bends its knee to Veii.”
Mastarna searched her face. “Where’s the frightened girl forced to wed me?”
Caecilia straightened her shoulders. “Long transformed. You and Veii have taught me courage.”
He smiled. “A warrioress indeed. But you never were such a hawk. I thought you only wanted concord.”
She stroked his smooth-shaven cheek, enjoying the scent of sandalwood on his skin. “Remember how you once told me Rome and Veii are like two unrequited lovers? Only twelve miles between them across the Tiber. They’re but a god’s footstep apart. Both desire to possess the other—only Rome wishes to be the husband and make Veii submit as the wife.”
He reached over and cupped her chin between his fingers. His touch was tender. “A Roman wife perhaps but not a Veientane one. You are my equal.”
He swept the hair from her neck and kissed the tiny curls at the nape. His mouth was warm, his lips gentle. His hand traced the curve of her spine and buttocks beneath the soft, fine wool of her chiton. She felt herself stir. Even after ten years, her husband could make her knees buckle with desire. “I want you, Bellatrix.”