Author's note: I'm so overwhelmed by all of the support you guys have given me so far with this one! This is the sequel to Chapter 190 in this series. Emperor Niklaus is completely enamored by his war prize, but he seemed to have forgotten that Caroline was a ferocious warrior queen before she became his war prize. Like any other love story, there's attempts at wooing — but even more attempts at murder...
"We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them."
― George Orwell, 1984
She'd refused the oysters from Brittany, but hadn't put blade to flesh, so the emperor considered it a victory. Niklaus signaled for a servant, pleased that Caroline seemed to be enjoying the Falernian wine. The fire from the torchlight set the rubies in her hair combs ablaze, and he tucked back a smile; she purposely had styled her hair to draw the eye toward the missing handful of curls. Such a bold little thing. Exquisite.
He'd slowly gathered bits of knowledge about her, secreting them away as though they were precious jewels. Effusive flattery was met with scorn. And often the flash of a blade, he reminisced with a smile. Her ferocity. She'd stared down the taunts of ill-mannered courtiers, sending them all fleeing with little more than an arched brow and vindictive sneer.
Her cleverness. The bloodthirsty warrior queen's court had an astonishing reputation for hosting renowned artists and he'd quietly observed the way Caroline's furious gaze would soften when she spied a mosaic or a sculpture that she found pleasing. Which is why he'd commissioned his artists to continuously create new pieces to display. Because even the slightest twitch of her lips seemed to banish his loneliness. His court was filled with vipers watching and waiting for the slightest hint of weakness. His siblings encouraged their venomous whispers, each eyeing the throne to feed their ambitions.
But Caroline was different. The face she showed him was her true self — violent, savage, and stubbornly committed to being his enemy. The fierceness with which she held her people and homeland within her heart was admirable. One day he will claim that loyalty for his own.
Caroline contemplated the ornate silver goblet, tracing the outline of frolicking satyrs and nymphs. When she finally spoke, she looked just as surprised as he. "It is said that your Illyrian birth was not of noble lineage, but that as commander of Emperor Claudius' cavalry, every soldier rallied to your cause, and that on the strength of their rebellion, seated you in the throne."
"You've heard of me."
She gestured vaguely at the extravagance that surrounded them — the group of gold dust-painted musicians softly playing lyres, the marble and ivory dining table laden with exotic meats and fruits from the far reaches of his empire — and scoffed, "You're the Emperor of Rome. Only a fool would fail to know her enemy." With a twisted smile, she mocked, "The great restorer of the world."
The emperor quickly cut his gaze to the guards and servants around the room, noting the ashen faces and carefully vacant stares. Good. At least he could still command fear among his subjects. "I reunited the Roman Empire, as any great ruler has been called to do." With a sly smirk, he added, "As the warrior queen of the Palmyrene Empire, your armies rampaged across Anatolia through Egypt, conquering and enslaving and leaving naught but destruction in your wake to all who foolishly stood against you."
She glowered, ruthlessly tearing into the bread and bearing her teeth at him as she chewed. Her mumbled curse in Aramaic echoed throughout the chamber, "Qatlan'ookh, ya bronet khmara."
I'm going to kill you, son of a donkey. And he was utterly charmed.
Niklauswas contemplating whether to reveal that he spoke Aramaic when suddenly Caroline's expression turned cold. The purple silk swiftly moved along her body with a seductive whisper, but it wasn't until she gripped the silver table knife that he understood what had drawn her ire. The centurion who had thought to steal her light during the triumphal parade
entered the chamber. Just as Niklaus had commanded.
The lowly centurion still had his hand clumsily upon his sword hilt when Caroline swiftly struck. With brutal strokes of the blade, she demanded his blood, a vindictive smile gracing her lips as she wordlessly returned to her couch. With the blood from her enemy's ragged scalp soaking through the silks, she shrewdly observed, "Your soldier was a freshly plucked pheasant you served to me."
Clever thing. "You requested retribution." He swiftly gestured for the servants and musicians to leave them, and with a careless wave at the crumpled remains of his lowly centurion, he told her, "He was not a worthy adversary, but you granted him an honorable death." Flashing her a dimpled smirk, he added, "Twice now you've taken a scalp in my presence — that's quite the penchant you have for hair."
"It is my people's way," she replied with an indifferent shrug. She wryly told him, "Your curls would look lovely."
"Tangled along your fingers, in the throes of passion."
With a radiant smile, Caroline sweetly corrected, "Against my blade." And then threw the blood-streaked knife at his head.
Courtiers and advisors had buzzed about his person most of the day, and the emperor finally had bellowed until his guardsmen had cleared them from his sight. His temper was most foul, and he restlessly paced the length of his bedchamber, tossing aside his dressing robe and muttering under his breath. Caroline had sequestered herself away in her own chambers after their spirited meal. The top of his ear stung from the light touch of her blade, but it was her refusal to speak with him that had agitated his spirit. Stubborn woman.
Clearly, she was sullen after her failed attempt on his life. His skillful maneuver to avoid the worst of her blade had been impressive — but of course being such a passionate woman, she was far too proud to acknowledge his mastery. Her beautiful face had been a mask of fury as she leapt at him, seemingly unleashing a feral beast. Oh, how she'd moved in his arms. She carried with her all the vigor and vitality he'd never experienced with another. She had no fear of him and certainly held no regard for his power. A worthy mate. They rolled about the floor, Caroline lashing out with an admirable strength that was immensely exciting.
But then, there was a serene moment when she caged her fury and seemed to allow her gaze to linger on his lips. He was still reveling in that small triumph when several of his Praetorian Guardsmen arrived, summoned by the commotion. At their stone-faced visages and raised swords, he grinned, his tone mild as he said, "I fell, and Caroline was generously helping me."
And now she was punishing him with her willful absence.
He glared at his walls, the frescoes of Bacchus and his consort, Ariadne, seemed to mock him. A rustling noise caught his attention, and he lifted his gaze to the domed ceiling, mouth falling open in surprise as he caught a brief glimpse of Caroline crouched along the tops of the Coan silk curtains. With a furious snarl, she skillfully swung from the arched braces, knocking him to the marble floor with the fluid grace of a lion.
"Thieving bastard," she hissed, "you stole my homelands; I will steal your life."
Niklaus stilled at the press of her blade to his neck, cursing the softness he felt for her. It was folly to welcome the predator into your home and assume they can be tamed with luxuries and gentle words.
He admonished, "Warrior queen who conquered Rome's eastern provinces — carving away at my empire to fatten your own — you would do the same as I have done." Taking advantage of her momentary surprise, the emperor flipped them over with ease as he trained daily with his guardsmen. Niklaus forcefully pressed his fingers to Caroline's wrist until her blade became his. He hissed in her ear, "You lay waste to all who opposed your reign. You crave power as much as I. We are kindred."
Wide blue eyes stared up at him in rage — but something else lingered just below the surface. Curiosity? But then her gaze darkened and strayed to his lips once more. Lust. Niklaus could feel ever delectable line of her body through his thin tunic, and he leaned in to close the small distance between them. "Yield," he whispered, unabashedly laying his soul bare, "yield to this bothersome curiosity that bruises us both."
"Release me and I'll swiftly deliver you from your torment," Caroline swore, cheeks reddening as they locked gazes once more.
Suddenly, his Praetorian Guardsmen stormed into his chambers, swords drawn to fend off whatever attack they'd assumed he was facing. Niklaus smoothly hid Caroline's knife between them, smiling up at the guards as he casually remarked, "It seems I fell yet again, and Caroline was helping me."
Niklaus couldn't stop his lips twitching in amusement as his wine taster finally stopped convulsing and lay still on the gleaming marble floor. Caroline must've been quite nimble to have slipped the poison in his goblet without being seen by the multitude of palace advisors who dogged his every step or his sharp-eyed guardsmen. He'd finally given up counting the number of times she'd tried to kill him. Minx. With a bored gesture, he signaled for two of the servants to cart away the body.
The emperor glanced down the length of the ivory-inlaid table, pleased to find her burning gaze leveled at him. Such fire. He casually bit into a honeyed fig, enjoying the slight twitch of her jaw as she glared at him. "Fig," he asked innocently, gesturing for a servant to bring her the platter.
"Palmyrene figs have no need of honey. Yet another testament to the superiority of my homeland," she boasted, drinking heartily from her goblet.
Niklaus felt himself grow warm from her teasing. He toasted her with the fresh goblet a servant had brought him. "Perhaps we need the fruits of other lands to temper the Roman bitterness." Her resulting scowl made him chuckle, and he decided to add, "Roman figs are far older, and it is said that the first tree was planted along the banks of the Tiber where Romulus and Remus' cradle was found."
Caroline scoffed, "Ah, the Roman obsession with looking to the past rather than the future. My court sought the greatest scholars and philosophers from every land, because my people valued lasting ideas and yours value...the fleeting." she trailed off, sliding her fierce blue gaze around the majestic room filled with sumptuous finery.
Impertinent thing. "You brand us Romans as feeble-minded, but we do have a few...hundred or so authors of note." With a roguish wink, he added, "Perhaps you've heard of Gnaeus Naevius, Lucius Livius Andronicus, or Titus Maccius Plautus?" There. He'd been searching her face for that spark of interest, that connection. He knew her court had been a lively place where great minds debated ideas, and many a poet and scholar had made their home there. It was immensely rewarding to watch her mind at work, crafting those cutting insults with her silver tongue.
"Naevius and Andronicus did nothing more than transcribe Greek works because true talent eluded them. Although, I suppose it is the Roman way to steal from their betters."
Niklaus' lip twitched at her righteous indignation. It must be exhausting to carry such fury in that small frame. Noting that she'd purposely omitted a name, he teased, "And what of Plautus? Does he too deserve your ire?"
The delicate blush that painted her cheeks was as satisfying as it was lovely. She finally lowered her gaze and muttered under her breath, "I...sometimes enjoy his coarse humor."
He chuckled in delight. Finally. Every foundation began with a single stone. The rest would follow. From the moment his armies had conquered Caroline's lands, he'd known that she would be the finest war prize he'd ever possessed. "It would be my pleasure to commission Plautus' works to be performed for you. I want to host activities that will gladden your heart."
Caroline's smile was gloriously vicious as she nodded toward the floor where his poisoned goblet still lay. "Please do not take pains for such amusements. My days are occupied with attempting to achieve one goal that will gladden my heart."
She had gone too far. Niklaus had spent weeks stomping about his palace, in a foul temper because yet again Caroline was avoiding him. Oh, she'd certainly had her bouts of stubbornness, refusing to leave her rooms after some of their more...lively debates, but lately she'd not only removed herself from his sight, but also had stopped her amusing attempts on his life.
He found her in the east garden, admiring the ornate frescoes that adorned the walls. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that it made his heart ache, but his fury colored his words as he bellowed, "Why have you turned from me? Do I no longer stir your ire?!"
She looked astonished by his outburst, keeping her hands folded in her lap as she perched upon the stone bench. "I — I don't understand. I've stopped my...exertions."
"I've noticed," he retorted angrily, "my flesh has not tasted your blade for far too long. Your passion for me has waned."
Caroline stood with a blazing stare that would've scorched a lesser man. "Have you taken leave of your senses?! I've ceased my vendetta and yet you still complain?"
"A drop of vitriol from you is a declaration of devotion from any other."
She shook her head in exasperation, blonde curls slipping from the ruby combs. "By the gods, are all of Rome's emperors utterly mad?"
He couldn't comprehend the uncertainty in her face. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he demanded, "Why? Tell me what has changed your heart?"
It was worrisome how she refused to look at him, with her lashes lowered and demure. She also didn't throw off his touch, but instead remained against his body. Her voice was muffled as she finally replied, "You let them go." She flicked her gaze up at him, hesitantly explaining, "The few people from my court that your soldiers captured — you just...let them go?"
"Oh." He was perplexed by her behavior. Was she pleased? Disappointed? This woman's changeable heart was maddening.
Caroline's silence was disquieting. When she spoke again, her voice had gathered strength as she shrewdly observed, "You couldn't free me though — my life would be forfeit before I walked through the city's gates. My enemies are vast — as are yours."
Such a cleaver creature. Was it any wonder why he admired her so? Niklaus was conscious of how their brief touches had shifted to something...other, but he wasn't sure of his place in this moment. He tread carefully, his tone solemn as he agreed, "Between dizzying palace intrigue and enemies outside — and inside the gates — the gods do not grant our kind the gift of limitless days."
She'd grown quiet, her expression contemplative. Suddenly, she nodded and replied curtly, "Then let's not waste them." And then she kissed him with all the fervor she'd once displayed in her numerous attempts on his life.
Niklaus eagerly responded in kind, marveling at the knowledge that there was narrow sunlight between a kill or a kiss. He'd resigned himself to anticipating only one from Caroline, but was pleased that the gods saw fit to bless him with the other as well.
