Athenian Slave (Book 2)

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Charmion rubbed the small bump that had appeared over the last few weeks. A smile gracing her face. She had begun to have visions at night of things to come, rather than the events that had led to this time from the past. She still had the nights she woke up with the silent scream locked in her throat. But it was as if she had finally realised that to live was to move forward. Not stay locked in the past. For the past could not be changed, but reliving it could change the future she was to face. And she would not let him take any more of her than he already had.

As she lent down to pick up the tunic she had dropped, a twinge in her back had her wincing, straightening quickly. Her hand quickly going to massage the spot. The slaves that had given birth had been flocking around. Trying to give her sage advice. Instead all the tales she had heard had made sure that if she ever did manage to fully rid herself of the night terrors, which haunted her. Then she was promised others, in such detail, that it would be as if she was living it herself.

The tortures they described. She shuddered to think. The pain she knew was to come. Shaking her head, she tried to put it out of her mind, as with one hand still on her aching back, she tried once more to pick up the fallen tunic. Successful this time, she was surprised to find that upon straightening, a pair of arms came around her. By now she had become so used to this that she did not even question it, though she did still feel uncomfortable. He would do as he wished, as he had proved many a time before, she was the slave after all. But she thanked the gods for small mercies. He only did so when no one else was around.

Spinning, carefully and tactfully retreating from the arms she looked up into the familiar face she knew belonged to those thick muscles. She tried for a benign smile, and most probably failed. Cocking a brow, she waited for him to speak. Silently asking what he wanted.

“Ah, Charmion, do not look at me so.” Her free hand went to her stomach, as if in instinct, while the pile of tunics she carried was tucked under her other arm. Her stare direct. She waited on him once more. “I know what Alexios has said. And I have told you each and every time you give me such a look. Why would he ever think I would come into his villa, in the slaves’ quarters, to find you? Especially when I have friends who claim I am still at work on the other side of his land?” He raised an eyebrow in return. And her stomach knotted, not in a good way, but in a way that knew nothing good could come from this. Alexios had expressly forbidden her to go near Cosmas. And the same, she knew, had been directed at the male before her. Yet, he still came to terrorise her. She lived in a fear that Alexios would find out, and then his wrath would fall upon them both. While she had wanted no part of it.

She liked Cosmas’ company. But only in as much as she had enjoyed a sibling’s companionship. She knew he wanted more. Was constantly offering to speak to Alexios. Though each time she shook her head. She did not want that. Her fate had been written a long time ago, and now it was sealed with the coming of her child. Though the circumstance was lamentable, the child had no part in that, and therefore could not hold onto the hate in her heart as she thought of it. As she turned to carry on out into the corridor that led to the master’s living quarters, with the clean, well almost clean, tunics. If she were to include the one that fell from her grasp. She could hear Cosmas’ sandals slapping against the tiles as he tried to keep up with her fast pace.