Bride of the Emperor (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 4) Hayley Faiman (e reader TXT) 📖

ankles, then as I continue to look over myself, I realize that I forgot I was wearing only a bikini. Lifting my head, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and shake my head a couple of times.

“I am a mess,” I whisper slowly, hoping that she will understand me.

She gives me a wide smile, but there is no understanding in her gaze. Instead, she reaches out and wraps her hand around mine, then tugs me forward.

There is a man who stands in front of the doorway just as we are about to walk out of the room.

Cassia stops, then looks over her shoulder to me and rolls her eyes. “Brutus,” she says with a long exhale.

He looks me over, his frown stays completely in place as he assesses me, then he lets out a grunt as Cassia rattles something to him. He shakes his head once, then jerks his chin before he stands to the side.

Following behind Cassia, though I don’t have a choice because she has a firm grip on my hand in hers and is practically pulling me along behind her. We walk down the long stone hallway, then turn to the right, then walk some more before we turn to the left.

We make our way into a room. I don’t know what I expect, but I did not expect what I actually see. I let out a gasp of surprise. Baths. Not just one, but several natural-looking pools and I remember this in history class. I let out a squeal of excitement because I remember the Romans had indoor plumbing.

Cassia walks me over to a bath that is around a corner, then dips her chin as if she wants me to get inside. But before I can even take a step, Petronia tugs on the string of my bikini top and it falls to the floor in one swift move.

I cry out, covering my breasts, but this only makes Cassia giggle, then my bottom strings are untied simultaneously and here I am completely naked in the middle of some old-fashioned, Roman bath.

Cassia extends her arm to urge me to go inside. I do, but not because I necessarily want to, but because I’m dirty and feel pretty damn gross. I want to be clean. As soon as my toe touches the warm water, I let out a moan and almost too quickly dive inside.

Almost as soon as I’m submerged in the water, two women walk from behind a piece of stone carrying baskets. They drop rose petals into the water, then walk in with me. I glance around, my eyes darting from Cassia to Petronia, to Cassia again as the women begin to swim toward me.

I back up until I slam into the stone wall with a hiss. The women don’t stop, Cassia calls out my name then says something in a soothing voice. I assume she’s telling me to calm down, but it hits me all of a sudden.

I’m naked, in here with strangers, and these women are swimming toward my naked body, all smiles. I am not in Florida. I am not at home, and I am not okay. I whimper as they come to my side. I do what I’ve always done when faced with any type of danger—I retreat.

Pinching my eyes closed, I whimper again right before I feel their hands slide down my arm, then under my pits, then warm water is poured on my head. I realize they aren’t there to hurt me, they’re here to bathe me.

And I let them.

Partly because I’m scared, partly because I’m vain and it’s nice to be pampered and I know that says a lot about who I am. I’ve never denied that I’m all about pleasing myself, about self-care and pampering. That’s exactly what this is and I am all for it.

TIBERIUS

The gods did not disappoint. They did not disappoint in the slightest when they fated this creature as my own. She is beautiful. She is a goddess in her own right. However, she will never want me. One look at my face, one look at the monster that I am, and she will turn her cheek, she will run.

I would expect nothing less.

If I am to create and heir and fulfill the gods’ prophecy, then I will need to ensure that she does not see my face until my seed is planted and my heir grows. I will have to lay with her in the dark of night.

“She is a vision,” Marcellus announces.

Nodding, I shift my gaze to my discarded helmet, then shift back to him. He is handsome. He has not been scarred by war, he has not been hardened by battle. Marcellus was the second son and was educated.

Though, as the first it would have been me, I had no desire to stay here. My father ensured that I was trained in war, and I was glad for it. Honestly, I have no doubt that he hoped I would fall in battle so that Marcellus, or anyone else, would take over as the Emperor of Savona—anyone but me.

It was fine with me that he did not want me as his successor. I wished to have my life ended shortly in battle, it would have made things much easier. My father detested me, detested my mother, but held great affection for both Marcellus and his mother.

Our father did not hide how he felt about his wives or his children. Ever. Turning to Marcellus, I clear my throat.

“Will you pretend to be me?” I ask.

His body jerks, his eyes widen and he lets out a breath. “The gods, Tib. We cannot. Deceiving her, deceiving them, it would anger them. I make it a point to never be on the receiving end of the gods’ wrath.”

I shake my head, my eyes finding his and holding them. “Not for the whole time, just in the daylight. The nights are mine.”

“Tib,” he warns.

“The beast said she must fall in love with me. That