Lucius looked upon her, and in that moment, he saw not his wife, but a warrior, an sss returned to an empty, destroyed home, thirsty for vengeance, a vengeance he understood all too well.
Together, they walked over to the first man Lucius had struck. He was grabbing at his side, blood pumping out between his dirty fingers.
“Where are the people who lived here?” Adara demanded.
“When were you ordered to watch this place?” Lucius said, his gladius pointed at the man’s eye.
The shepherd spat at them, and without a moment’s delay, Adara slammed her gladius into his chest. His eyes shot wide, their incredulity almost comic, like the masks hanging on the walls of the theatre of Herodes Atticus down in the city.
There were more cries as Phoebus went round finishing off the other men, but bef
