“If he’s still waiting below, send him up,” she said. “I’m curious to hear what he has to say for himself.”
Julia was surprised when, a few minutes later, Didymas escorted him into the bedchamber, then came to the balcony to tell her “Prometheus, my lady” in a voice devoid of emotion.
“I wish to speak with him alone,” she said, lowering the cloth from her eyes and gesturing impatiently. Didymas hurried from the chamber.
Taking a deep breath, Julia tossed her cloth aside and rose from her couch. She snatched up a robe and put it on as she entered the bedchamber.
Prometheus stood in the middle of her room. She glanced at him, expecting him to prostrate himself before her or plead tearfully for mercy. Instead, he stood silent, waiting. Her brows rose.
Besides his grave dignity, his appearance was very changed. He was taller than she remembered, and he had grown more handsome over the past few years. He had been a mere boy when Primus bought him from the slavers in the booths beneath the arena stands. Now, he was a handsome young man of fifteen or sixteen, his hair cut short, his face clean-shaven.
“Prometheus,” she said, drawing out his name with dark meaning. “How nice of you to return.” She saw no fear in his face and wondered at his calmness.
“I’ve come to beg your forgiveness, my lady, and ask that I may return to serve you.”
Stunned, Julia stared at him. “Beg my forgiveness and return?”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll serve you as you wish, unless you deem otherwise.”
“By otherwise, you mean if I should decide to have you killed?”
He hesitated and then said softly, “Yes, my lady.”
She was amazed at his attitude. Clearly, he was in no doubt of his highly precarious situation, but he seemed unafraid. Or perhaps he was as good a hypocrite as the ones who performed in the theater.
She smiled faintly. “Serve me as I wish? Considering your previous position in my household, that’s an interesting proposition.” Her glance flickered over him. He blushed and lowered his head. She was surprised more by that than anything else. Surely all the time he had spent serving Primus’ various aberrant passions had obliterated all modesty.
Her mouth curved in a mocking smile. “Do you not realize you broke poor Primus’ heart when you so cruelly deserted him? He was madly in love with you.”
Prometheus said nothing.
“You should be ashamed to have treated your master so unkindly,” she said sardonically, enjoying his discomfort. “You should be groveling.”
Prometheus didn’t move.
Strangely, he intrigued her. And it had been a long time since anything had distracted her from her illness.
“Did you ever love him?” She saw the boy swallow convulsively and knew she was plumbing emotion below the surface. “Look at me and answer truthfully. Did you ever really love Primus, even for one tiny little instant? Answer me!”
“No, my lady.”
“What did you feel for him?”
He raised his eyes and looked at her. “Nothing.”
She gave a laugh of pure satisfaction. “Oh, how I wish he could hear you say that.” She saw the small frown that crossed his forehead. Her pleasure faded. Did he think her cruel to say that? What about all she had suffered at Primus’ hands? Didn’t Primus deserve to suffer as well? He should have suffered more!
She turned away and walked to the table that held the jug of wine. “For all Primus’ politic charm and public gaiety, Prometheus, he is a vicious and vindictive man who uses people for his own ends. He sucks them dry and then leaves the empty husks behind.” Her throat closed. “But you should know all about that, shouldn’t you?” she said in a choked voice.
She left the jug untouched and turned to look at Prometheus again. Her mouth curved into a bitter smile.
“I was glad when you ran away, Prometheus. Do you know why? Because it hurt Primus. Oh, it hurt him terribly. He grieved over you as one would grieve over a beloved wife who betrayed him.” She gave a bleak laugh. “For a little while, he understood how I felt when Atretes deserted me.” She looked away, wishing she hadn’t spoken of her lover. The merest mention of his name brought a rush of pain and sense of loss. “Not that Primus was ever sympathetic.”
Regaining control, she looked at Prometheus again, head high. “Do you want to know something else, slave? You became my one small defense against Primus’ innumerous cruelties later on.”
Prometheus looked troubled. “I’m sorry, my lady.”
He sounded sincere. “For him?” Her mouth curved bitterly. “You needn’t be. He found a means of getting his revenge.”