”NO!”
Margo was on her feet, the cry torn from her.
Flaminius halted in surprise. Then stared at the tears welling in her eyes. Then, very slowly, replaced the branding iron in the brazier. He gestured to his men. They released the trembling boy, who kissed his master’s feet-then wept on Margo’s. She swayed…
Flaminius eased her back to a seat on the marble bench and called to a slave. A moment later, the rim of a goblet touched her lips. She swallowed strong red wine and fought to regain control of herself. Flaminius was speaking quietly to his slave. Margo recognized very little of what he said, catching only the version of her name she’d oven him: Margo Sumitus. When Flaminius escorted her back to her sick room, she didn’t argue. What surprised her, however, was the boy who’d been branded. He limped after them, still chained and struggling, then took a seat next to her bed He remained behind even when Flaminius left, putting himself between her and the door as though he intended to guard Margo’s very life.
She wondered what his name was and why he’d run away in the first place. He met her gaze, clearly curious about his foreign benefactor who’d kept him from being branded a second time, then flushed and jerked his gaze down again.
She sat up in bed. Then touched her chest. “Margo,” she said. Then she pointed to him.
The boy whispered, “Domine, sum Achillei.”
Domine?
Surely she’d misunderstood? But Malcolm had been clear about the meaning of that word. Dominus meant master.
Young Achilles glanced up. “Esne Palmyrenus?” he asked, sounding awestruck.