Read Online A Noble Captive by Michelle Styles - Free Book Online

man, she felt the stirrings of something inside her. It both excited and frightened her.
    ‘I will let her know.’
    ‘I would like to explain it personally to the sibyl.’ His eyes were focussed on her lips, making them feel full and heavy. ‘You can arrange that for me, can’t you?’
    The words were like ice water. Helena turned and broke his gaze. She had allowed this conversation to progress too far. The spell he held over her shattered. Helena drew a shuddering breath. All the warnings she had over the years about Romans came flooding back. What was his game? Seduction? Too late, she remembered her aunt’s warnings. Men were not to be trusted.
    Did he hope to turn the temple away from its people?
    ‘The sibyl is no friend of Rome. She has no use for Roman life-debts,’ she stated flatly.
    He had to understand this. If anyone from her uncle and Captain Androceles even suspected a hint of co-operation with Rome, retribution would be swift and harsh.
    ‘She cares only for her people. She would never betray her people.’ Helena watched Tullio as her words echoed around the room. Something seemed to die in his eyes. Cold hardness replaced the warmth.
    ‘I see. I mistook the situation.’
    ‘My lady, your aunt, the Lady Zenobia, and her entourage approach,’ a temple guard said, bursting into the room.
    Helena pressed her fingertips together. A new wave of pain crashed around her head. The Lady Zenobia. She had to prevent Aunt Zenobia from seeing Aunt Flavia. It was that simple and that fraught with danger.
    Why now? Had Zenobia reached a similar conclusion to Tullio? Her aunts never spent any time in the same room together. Aunt Flavia blamed Aunt Zenobia and her extended Cilician family for many of the excesses of the seafarers.
    Oh, Kybele, what had she done?

Chapter Five
    T he Lady Zenobia, dressed in a heavily embroidered purple gown, stood in the centre of the sibyl’s reception room. Everything about her posture proclaimed she was consort to the head of one of the most important seafaring houses in the islands. Next to her stood Captain Androceles, resplendent in his green tunic and darker green cloak. With his sharply pointed nose, his resemblance to a bird of prey was striking.
    A great pit opened where Helena’s stomach used to be, and her limbs started to tremble. She had expected the captain to sail with his trireme, but he hadn’t. There had to be a reason why he had let the trireme sail without him. Normally, he was content to leave behind one of his men, while he took charge of negotiation with the Romans for the disposal of his goods. It was this attention to detail that had earned in part his nickname of the Eagle.
    What had his eyes picked up this time? And he had enlisted his distant cousin in his plans. The combination could spell disaster for the temple unless Helena kept Aunt Flavia’s illness hidden.
    Helena straightened her robes and made the necessary obligations in front of Kybele’s statue before turning to her aunt. She concentrated on her breathing, steady and sure, the same as she practised before the libation water ritual. Everything she did had to appear unhurried when, in reality, she wanted to flee from the room and lock the door behind her.
    ‘How good of you to call, Aunt Zenobia.’ Helena made an expansive gesture with her hands. ‘The sibyl did mention that you were in the congregation for this morning’s ritual. What can the temple do for the queen of this island?’
    Helena paused to see if her aunt would use any of the ritual words, but Zenobia stood fingering her deep purple gown and the expression in her eyes turned to one of deep distaste. Helena looked behind her. Tullio stood, arms crossed, face stern—an unrequired bodyguard. Helena pressed her tongue against her teeth. The Roman presumed much. When she needed help, she’d ask for it.
    ‘This is not a social call, niece. I, that is, we desire a word with Flavia, with the sibyl. My dear maternal cousin and