Domain of Power-The Dreamer (Book 3)

Chapter 25: Two-Edged Heart

I turned to face Cornelia.

Her dark ringlets bounced with each approaching step. I eyed the codex she handed to me. "I believe you were looking for this."

I smiled back at her. "Thanks. That was kind of you," I said.

She clasped her hands together. "I wanted to make things right between us," she said softly.

"You did no wrong. You did what you were supposed to do."

"I still feel guilty though. I gave away your basket without your permission. And before then I tried to cheer you up when all you wanted was to be left alone." Her shoulders shrank before continuing. "This is my way of apologizing," she said with a sigh.

I grinned. "Well, I accept your apology if that makes you feel better." Just as I began to roll up the letter from Priscilla—

"Who is that from?" Cornelia asked.

I hesitated before answering. "A letter from a very good friend," I said. "You do not have to worry about it," I said simply. I slid it underneath my feather-stuffed pillow.

"Oh, from Romeos," she said.

I scratched my head. "Um, not exactly."

Cornelia bit her lower lip before slowly backing away.

"You seem a bit troubled," I remarked.

She shook her head. "Um nothing. I just remembered I have to help Ophelia gather the clothes for the fuller to clean. I must not keep her waiting," she replied swiftly. She pushed back a ringlet behind her ear. "It looks like you already got something special." She quickly excused herself, disappearing into the corridor. She seemed so eager to leave. So different from the times when she lingered in the room. I must have made her uncomfortable. Then it dawned on me that she must have known who the letter was from. For a while I thought we were friends. What we had together was almost unheard of between a slave and a master; a friendship. Suddenly though I was beginning to think that I was something more to Cornelia than a friend.

"We must not dwell on what we do not possess. Rather we must build on what we have to create something grand. The past is our guide but not our staff. We reflect on it to remind us where we came from; to keep us grounded. It is our present that we must live in, and ultimately chart the paths for the future.... Our world is dominated by the struggle for power. The same power that can consume us. That can choke us until we are blinded."

I clung to grandfather's words as I sat on my bed reading his journal. It had occurred to me that I was so focused on what I did not have, that I failed to see what I did have in front of me. I was beginning to lose faith in ever gaining the memories that were lost. But I did have a few memories of the past to cling to. Once hazy I could now vividly recall the night where my brothers and I played in the field with fireflies. The last time we all played together.

"Are you coming for dinner my lord?" A low voice from a male slave disturbed my thoughts.

"Yes, just one moment," I muttered. I quickly closed the codex and placed it next to my clay jar of styluses on the lampstand. On my arrival to the summer triclinium, father's eyes followed my movement to the couch as he gulped down his wine.

He lowered the silver cup from his face. "You are late," he said crisply. In silence I plopped between Apollus and Barbarius who were sprawled on pillows. I gestured for the cupbearer to pour me a cup of wine to drink. The spirit at the table was quiet with the occasional crisp words of, "Pass that please," tossed about.