Gilded Serpent by Danielle Jensen (top 10 novels txt) 📕

Which he, no matter how much he hated Cassius, was one of. And Marcus found himself wanting in equal parts to fall to his knees and beg for the woman’s forgiveness and to scream in her face that he had no more power in this than she did. But instead, he walked forward, refusing to look at any of the people who shouted insults and threw rotten food in his wake.

They wove through the narrow winding paths leading up the Hill, the overhang of the trees providing respite from the beating sun, though Marcus couldn’t help but notice that his father was panting, sweat running in rivulets down the sides of his face. “Do you need to pause, Senator?”

“No, I’m quite fine.” His father glanced back at the litter trailing him, then started up a series of steps. “I remember when you—”

“Things change.”

“Indeed.”

The path forked. To go to the left would lead eventually to Cassius’s home, but they carried upward to the top of the Hill, a place Marcus hadn’t been since he was eight years old.

And yet it was as familiar as though it were yesterday.

The trees were somewhat taller, but the ancient walls between trees were identical, as were the bits and pieces of the grand villas visible through the dense gardens, the air thick with the scent of flowers. And faintly, Marcus could make out the sound of the surf pounding against the shores at the base of the cliffs far below this last row of homes.

“This is Valerius’s home,” his father said between breaths. “In case you were concerned over the welfare of the girl.”

Marcus started, for a moment believing his father spoke of Lydia before realizing he meant Teriana.

His chest tightened painfully as he glanced through the closed gates, faded memories of sitting on a library floor, looking at the illustrations in books with a small girl with long dark hair and green eyes. She’d been his friend—perhaps his only friend at that age. And he’d murdered her. “I remember.”

Continuing down the path, they reached the gates to the Domitius property, which sat at the very pinnacle of the Hill. One of the litter-bearers hurried ahead of them to unlatch the gate, swinging it open and then lowering his gaze as they passed.

A path made of tiny squares of white stone wound through the towering trees, past fountains featuring nude women that sprayed water from their fingertips and toes, filling the air with a tinkling music that he’d recognize a hundred years from now. Pots of bright blooming flowers buzzed with bees, and the path branched again and again, a maze he’d explored daily as a child.

“Please be kind to your mother,” his father said softly as they rounded a bend and the villa appeared, all columns and porticos and colored marble. “It was my decision, not hers. And I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for it.”

“Do you regret it?” The words exited his lips before Marcus had the chance to think about whether he truly wanted to hear the answer.

Senator Domitius paused, staring up at the wide doors, the metal inset with twelve squares depicting famous moments of family history. “No,” he finally answered. “For I believe the legions saved your life. And that they would have consumed your brother’s.”

It was an answer that denied all culpability for what he’d endured, and Marcus balled one hand into a fist before forcing it to relax. The past could not be undone.

Although it seemed he was about to face it whether he wanted to or not.

Pushing open the door, his father stepped into the atrium, a square opening in the ceiling revealing blue sky. Beneath it was a large golden basin that collected water during the rains. Marble benches sat between alcoves that contained busts depicting Domitius patriarchs, potted ferns providing splashes of green against the white walls.

But Marcus’s gaze went immediately to the two girls standing at the far end, one of them arguing vehemently with an older female servant.

“I don’t wish to go,” she said, stomping a sandaled foot. “There is nothing to do in the country villa.”

“Your mother says you must, domina,” the servant pleaded, then her eyes snapped to Marcus and his father. “Apologies, dominus!” She dropped to her knees. “We were to be gone before your return.”

“Ah, yes. The legatus walks more swiftly than is my custom, so you are not to blame.” Marcus’s father waved a hand to the girls. “Legatus, these are my daughters Faustina and Julia.”

His younger sisters. Neither of whom he’d seen in nearly thirteen years. Julia had been only a baby when he’d left for Lescendor and Faustina an irritating toddler who’d ripped pages from his books, now twelve and fourteen.

Both girls inclined their heads, echoing each other with, “Well met, Legatus.”

“Well met,” he replied, unnerved when two pairs of blue-grey eyes fixed on him, for it was like looking into a mirror.

“They are off to the country,” his father said. “It seemed a … prudent choice, given tensions within the city.”

They could be sent to the far side of the Empire and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep them safe if Cassius decided to turn on Marcus’s family, but all he said was, “Wise decision.”

“Off with you,” his father said. “Already the hour grows late.”

The girls obediently followed the servant woman out the front door, and as it closed, Marcus asked, “Do they know who I am?”

“No. Only that they had an older brother who went to the legions. Telling them more was unnecessary.”

The words stung, though Marcus wasn’t entirely sure why. Shoving aside the emotions, he followed his father down a corridor. Sconces of perfumed oil scented the air, but beneath it, the faint breeze carried the smell of the sea, and he inhaled deeply, hoping it would steady his heart for what was to come.

But nothing could have prepared him.

His mother sat straight backed on a couch, ankles crossed beneath her,