Curse of the Celts Clara O'Connor (new reading txt) 📖

Calchas was too smart to transport us across the city together. Instead, he ensured that any escape attempt had to wait until we were reunited in our new prison. Or rather, in the praetor’s residence. The White Tower was a building inside a fortress from more militant times. Built over a thousand years ago, it had for a time held Briton prisoners – or at least the noble ones captured in battle. Many of them had been executed in the grounds. The tower ceased to be used as a high-end prison in the last couple of centuries of peace and had more recently become the residence of the Province’s commander of the legions, the highest judge in the land, whose hospitality we were enjoying this evening.

Finally dressed, I tried the latch on the heavy oak door and finding that it opened, I stepped through, where I was greeted by a waiting guard who indicated that I should follow him down the winding stairs.

We passed through stone corridors until we came to a dark wooden door which opened to reveal a warm room with tapestry-covered walls and a large formal dining table.

Devyn sat stiffly on one side with Marcus opposite. Praetor Calchas was seated at the head of the table. I looked around, half dreading to find my own parents – or at least Senator Dolon – here for our final evening meal.

“Yes, just us. The governor considers you vermin. His only concern is to have you wiped from the surface of the earth as soon as can be arranged.” He had answered a question I had neither asked nor wondered at. Why did he think we would expect the governor? To have found ourselves at the praetor’s table was surprise enough. “Particularly Master Agrestis here, who looks so much better than the last time we met.”

Devyn’s jaw clenched at this. He had no memory of the flogging he received on his last visit to the arena.

“I had my suspicions that you weren’t acting alone, as you insisted,” Calchas continued, gesturing to us to partake of the food spread in front of us, the picture of a gracious host. “No mean feat to persuade Governor Actaeon not to spill the blood of a hacker into the sands at his earliest convenience. Little did I think that removing your wounds and memories would reap such rich rewards.”

His deceptively paternal countenance surveyed us each in turn, his manner that of a benevolent uncle.

“Such unexpected and unsettling rewards. The city’s darling couple brought so low by a Briton.” His lips turned down in false dismay.

Something about the way he said it caught my attention. He turned from Devyn to look directly at me, filling my glass as he spoke.

“Yes, Donna Shelton, I knew before your little announcement today that your boyfriend is a Briton; we’ve known since we brought him in. Had a citizen committed the crime of hacking, the sentence would have been instant death. When we captured Master Agrestis here, we did our usual thorough investigations and discovered his existence was a thing of fiction. No friends to speak of and no family – at all. Oh, they were recorded in our databases, but we had difficulty tracking down these people in real life. Turns out there was no real life up until ten years ago. So, what is a Briton doing behind the walls? Who is he working with? What is he doing here? We were curious… and it appears that curiosity has paid off.” He smiled, beatifically, at the three of us. “As here we all are.”

“So glad it worked out for you,” Marcus commented sourly.

“Dr Courtenay… or do you prefer Lord Courtenay?” the praetor asked superciliously, as he filled Marcus’s glass, in turn gesturing for him to eat his as yet untouched meal.

“Dr Courtenay is fine,” Marcus gritted.

“Ah, the medical persona that drove you to betray your home.” Calchas tutted. “Your mother’s son, and, like her, destined to die before your time.”

Marcus frowned, but our host had already turned back to me once more.

“Little Cassandra. You appear to be the focus of all this chaos.” His eyes flicked to Devyn. “Our foundling whom we cared for as one of our own, our generosity so poorly repaid. How quickly you turned against us. Such a shame. We were going to create a new generation who had not only magic but technology under their control. We would have ruled the whole island. But our attempts will most likely lead to it all unravelling,” Calchas sighed.

Praetor Calchas was part of Dolon’s faction. Of course he was. This was who pulled the strings. I was quickly coming to loathe this man who was so impressed with his own cleverness. I had always felt like whoever was behind it all was a step ahead of us every time. I hadn’t ever imagined it would all be explained with such insufferable smugness. It made me even madder that we had been so outwitted. As if someone who was about to lose their life could possibly be any more dismayed at having been caught.

“You did this to rule the island. You wanted to use our children to wage war on the Britons?” I asked.

“Oh no, we didn’t need your children to be full-grown to wage war; the war has already begun. Even now, change is sweeping through the country. Having your children would have ensured we controlled two of the greatest magical bloodlines. The Britons have weakened; they are not what they once were.” Calchas took a sip of his drink. “With both of you under our control, we could finally take Britannia. But of course, we had reckoned without Actaeon’s fervour. He is a true son of the Empire. Assimilate or die. If the Britons won’t be subdued then he will eradicate them from the Earth. There will be no exceptions. The Maledictio has swept through the rest of the Empire so there are plenty of loyal citizens to occupy cleared