“You’re right. I don’t.”
“I’m dying. Do you care now?”
Marcus’ eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
Julia looked away from his hard face and clutched the wall with white fingers. “She has you. She doesn’t need me.”
“She loves both of us, God only knows why.”
She glared at him through her tears. “And if I say I won’t go?”
“Say no all you want. I don’t care. Scream. Rant and rave. Cry. It won’t change anything. You have no husband anymore, do you? No father, either. That leaves me with full legal right over you. You won’t walk over me the way you’ve walked over others. Like it or not, I’ll see you do whatever I decide. And, for now, I’ve decided to have you brought home.”
Marcus stepped away from the wall. “I’ll send someone to pack whatever things you have left and I’ll see you have servants to see to your needs.” He strode across the balcony.
“I’ve servants of my own,” she called after him.
Marcus stopped and glared back at her, his face white with anger. “I won’t have Primus’ catamite under my roof,” he said between his teeth. “You’ve always been good at dispensing with servants. Dispense with him. Sell him. Give him away. Free him. I don’t care what you do, but don’t bring him with you. Do you understand? And as for the other—”
“I want Azar. I need her.”
“You’ll have a servant younger and better able to dash to your beck and call.”
Fear filled Julia. The thought of being without Azar’s tender mercy was unbearable. “I need her, Marcus. Please.”
“You’ve always needed a lot, haven’t you, Julia? I’ll see you have all you need.” He turned away, striding toward the door.
“I’ll beg if you want. Only don’t send her away!”
Marcus kept walking.
“Marcus! Please!”
Marcus yanked the door and slammed it behind him. He had heard Julia cry too many times before to be softened by her tearful appeal now.
The veiled woman was standing beneath an arch overlooking the peristyle. He crossed over to her and told her briskly of his decision. “Consider yourself free to go wherever you choose,” he said. He took a step away, eager to leave and have done with all this.
“I choose to stay with Lady Julia.”
Marcus glanced at her in surprise. Perhaps it was another matter that held her. “If there’s a problem with money, I’ll see you have enough to sustain you for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not a matter of money, my lord. I’m a woman of independent means.”
That surprised him. “Then what reason have you to remain with her?”
“I gave her my word.”
“She doesn’t keep hers.”
“I keep mine.”
It was the simplest of answers, and the last one he wanted to hear. “Do as you like,” he said angrily and strode down the hall.
Hadassah stared after him. She put her hand over her racing heart and felt she could breathe again. He had appeared so unexpectedly on the front step. Had he sent a message ahead, perhaps she could have prepared herself. And she could’ve prepared Julia. The thought of being under the same roof with him again filled her with joy and pain.
She went to the door and opened it. Julia was lying on her sleeping couch, weeping. She sat up and held her arms out like a child desperately in need of comfort. “Don’t let him send you away. Please!”
Hadassah sat down beside her and held her close. “I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me,” Julia wept. “I’ll die if you leave me.”
“I won’t leave you, my lady.” She stroked her hair. “I’ll never leave you.”
“He hates me. He hates me so much.”
Hadassah knew she was right; she had felt it emanate from him the moment he stepped into Julia’s bedchamber. She had seen the dark sheen of it in his eyes. “Why does he hate you?” What could possibly have happened to turn Marcus’ heart against a sister he had so dearly loved?
Julia closed her eyes, mouth quivering. She drew back, scrubbing at the tears. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was all so long ago, you’d think he’d have forgotten by now.” She sniffed, tears still coming. She looked up at Azar. “He said I’m to get rid of Prometheus.”
Hadassah went cold. “What do you mean, ‘get rid of him’?”
“Sell him, do whatever I please. But Prometheus has been kind to me. I don’t want to do anything to him. My brother despises him because he was Primus’ catamite. Marcus hated Primus. He hated Calabah. And he hates me the same way he hated them.”