The following morning, Marcus called for a war council.
Every commander within the encampment gathered inside the command pavilion, maps spread across the table as scouts came and went with reports from the frontier. The atmosphere was taut, every conversation carrying the weight of the attack that now loomed only days away.
"You should go to Livia," Marcus said, fastening the clasp of his crimson cloak over one shoulder. "Help her prepare for what is coming. Organize the supplies, the bandages, anything you might need for the wounded."
I nodded immediately. He hardly needed to ask.
Before I could leave, however, he caught my hand and drew me back toward him. Just as the first of his officers entered the tent, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
When he pulled away, warmth flooded my cheeks.
"I shall have Livia bring you once we are finished here," he murmured, his forehead brushing mine. "I have a surprise waiting for you."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"I highly doubt this is the right time for surprises, Marcus."
A rare grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You will love this one, Elena."
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Livia and I worked without pause, sorting herbs, boiling linens, preparing fresh bandages and organizing carts that could be moved quickly should the camp need to evacuate. Every task reminded us of the impending casualties this war would bring. Not hoped for them, but prepared for them.
By evening, the medical tent was beginning to quiet.
The last patient to sit before us was a young, familiar pregnant woman from the nearby settlement. She had arrived frightened after experiencing mild pains, convinced something was wrong with the child. After examining her as best I could and reassuring her that both she and the baby appeared well, I sent her home with instructions to rest and return if the pains worsened.
She had only made it as far as the tent flap before two legionaries caught her by the arms.
My eyes narrowed as I hurried toward them. "What are you doing? She is with child!"
"She is not who she claims to be, domina," one of them said.
"Bring her to the Imperator," Livia said, parting the flap and stepping inside. "She is not who she says she is."
"Livia..."
"Domina," Livia turned to me. "She is that Briton's wife."
My lips parted.
My gaze dropping to her belly then back to her face as realization dawned.
She was the woman from the feast that night, the one offering a drink to Gen, she had been openly flirtatious with him. I had thought they must've had some kind of history, and apparently I wasn't wrong.
Had they been together ever since? She looked far enough along for it to be possible. Well, I guess some things within Garrick's family truly never changed.
"Be gentle with her," I said firmly as the legionaries began leading her away.
The woman struggled immediately, twisting against their grip despite her condition, but she was no match for two trained soldiers.
"You are too kind," Livia remarked once they had disappeared beyond the tent flap.
"She is with child," I replied quietly, unable to take my eyes off the entrance.
Livia studied me for a moment before giving a small, unreadable shake of her head.
"Now come."
She said nothing more, simply taking my arm and leading me from the medical tent.
Instead of returning toward Marcus's pavilion, she guided me to a smaller tent nearby.
Waiting inside were several attendants beside steaming wooden tubs scented with rosemary and lavender. Fresh garments had already been laid out upon a nearby bench, along with oils, combs and neatly folded linen.
I looked back at Livia in confusion.
"What is all this for?"
"You are a clever woman, domina," Livia said, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I am certain you could guess."
My lips parted just as my pulse quickened.
Before I could ask another question, the attendants gently relieved me of my clothes and ushered me into the steaming bath. Warm water scented with lavender and rosemary enveloped me, washing away the blood, sweat and exhaustion that had clung to my skin throughout the day.
They worked in quiet harmony, drying my hair before weaving fresh sprigs of myrtle and tiny white blossoms through the braid. When they finished dressing me, I scarcely recognized the woman staring back from the polished bronze mirror.
The gown was deep Roman red, embroidered with delicate gold thread along the neckline and sleeves. It reminded me irresistibly of Marcus's crimson military cloak, though softer, more elegant. A narrow golden belt rested at my waist, while a light ivory veil was draped carefully over my hair, the flowers peeking through its folds.
Livia stepped behind me, adjusting the veil with practiced hands.
"There," she said softly, satisfaction warming her voice. "Now you look like a Roman bride."
My breath caught.
"So this was his surprise..."
She only smiled.
"Come," she said, taking my hand, leading me from the bathing tent. "The Imperator is waiting."
The evening air was cool against my skin as we crossed the encampment. Though soldiers still hurried about preparing for the coming battle, many slowed as we passed, lowering their heads respectfully or offering quiet smiles that only heightened the nerves swirling inside me.
I can't believe we're actually going to do this.
When we finally reached Marcus's pavilion, Livia lifted the flap and gestured for me to enter.
Inside, candles cast a warm glow over the tent.
Marcus stood waiting near the center, no longer dressed for war but in a pristine white tunic beneath a crimson cloak fastened neatly at one shoulder. Beside him stood Quintus, several of Marcus's senior officers, the camp's scribe and a handful of trusted witnesses.
Every conversation ceased the moment I stepped inside.
Marcus turned.
For a heartbeat, he simply stared at me.
Then the proud smile that spread across his face told me everything.
This wasn't merely a surprise.