“For love.”
“Love doesn’t feed the belly, Lilia, or spend in the marketplace. Don’t be sad now. I’ll buy you a gift. Something gold like your hair.”
“I want nothing you can buy. Only freedom. I would be your wife.”
“You cannot. If we attempted such madness and were caught, we’d be put to death.”
“I would rather die with you than live without you.”
“I value my life more, it seems, than you value either of ours.” He nearly yawned, so lazy was his voice. “I can give you pleasure, and the freedom of that. But as for a wife, you know one has already been chosen for me.”
“You chose me. You said—”
“Enough, enough!” He threw up his hands, but seemed more bored by the conversation than angry. “I chose you for this, as you chose me. You were hungry to be touched. I saw it in your eyes. If you’ve spun a web of fantasy where we sail off, it’s your own doing.”
“You pledged yourself to me.”
“My body. And you’ve had good use of it.” He belted on his robes as he rose. “I would have kept you as mistress, happily. But I have no time or patience for ridiculous demands from a temple harlot.”
“Harlot.” The angry flush drained, leaving her face white as the marble columns on the hillside. “You took my innocence.”
“You gave it.”
“You can’t mean these things.” She knelt, clasping her hands like a woman at prayer. “You’re angry because I pushed you. We’ll speak no more of it tonight. We’ll swim, as you said and forget all these hard words.”
“It’s too late for that. Do you think I can’t read what’s in your mind now? You’ll nag me to death over what can never be. Just as well. We’ve challenged the gods long enough.”
“You can’t mean to leave me. I love you. If you leave me, I’ll go to your family. I’ll tell—”
“Speak of this, and I’ll swear you lie. You’ll burn for it, Lilia.” He bent down, ran a finger over the curve of her shoulder. “And your skin is too soft, too sweet for the fire.”
“Don’t, don’t turn from me. It will all be as you say, as you like. I’ll never speak of leaving again. Don’t leave me.”
“Begging only spoils your beauty.”
She called out to him in shock, in terrible grief, but he strode away as if he couldn’t hear her.
She threw herself down on the blanket, wildly weeping, pounding her fists. The pain of it was like the fire he’d spoken of, burning through her so that her bones seemed to turn to ash. How could she live with the pain?
Love had betrayed her, and used her and cast her aside. Love had made her a fool. And still her heart was full of it.
She would cast herself into the sea and drown. She would climb to the top of the temple and fling herself off. She would simply die here, from the shame and the pain.
“Kill him first,” she choked out as she raged. “I’ll kill him first, then myself. Blood, his and mine together. That is the price of love and betrayal.”
She heard a movement, just a whisper on the sand, and flung herself up with the joy. He’d come back to her! “My love.”
“Yes. I will be.”
His hair was black, flowing past his shoulders. He wore long robes the color of the night. His eyes were the same, so black they seemed to shine.
She grabbed up her toga, held it to her breasts. “I am a priestess of this temple. You have no leave to walk here.”
“I walk
where I will. So young,” he murmured as those black eyes traveled over her. “So fresh.”
“You will leave here.”