The child's cries broke the silence between us, carrying through the trees.
My heart caught when I saw Gen's reaction.
His gaze dropped immediately to the infant bundled against my chest. The hard certainty in his expression faltered, replaced by something far more difficult to read. His jaw tightened, and his brows drew together.
He did not look like a father eager to meet his son. No, he looked like a man confronted with the consequences of a mistake he had made.
"Come here, Elena," he said quietly, extending one hand toward me while the other remained on his reins. His helmet rested beneath his arm. "Bring me my son."
His blue eyes met mine.
"Come home."
The words were almost gentle.
"You belong with me. Both of you."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Are you not even going to ask what happened to his mother?" I asked. "To your wife?"
"I imagine she is dead," he answered, his expression remaining still. "She knew the risk when she agreed to marry me."
The words settled like lead in my chest.
I couldn't help but thought of the young woman's terrified face. The way she clung to my arms, begging for her own life. Save me.
She had been more than a vessel for an heir. She had been someone's daughter, someone who was supposed to have her whole life ahead of her.
My grip tightened instinctively around the child, as I lifted my eyes back to Gen.
"Where is my husband?" I asked quietly.
"You are surrounded, Elena," Gen said evenly as he settled his helmet back over his head. "I would advise you to stop thinking about that Roman."
His cold gaze held mine.
"Besides, the last I saw him, he was rather occupied keeping my men from cutting him down."
A flicker of anger shot through me.
"Marcus has fought enough battles to know how to defeat men like you."
A humorless smile tugged at the corner of Gen's mouth. "So he told you."
The child whimpered softly against my chest.
At the sound, Gen's eyes drifted downward once more. For the briefest instant, the hard lines of his face eased.
Then they hardened again.
"He bested me once," he admitted. "I have no intention of allowing him a second victory."
His gaze lifted back to mine.
"Now, enough," he bit out. "You are surrounded, Elena."
I took in my surroundings properly.
Between the trees, Briton riders emerged one by one, their horses moving silently through the woodland until they formed a loose ring around the path. Spears, shields, drawn swords.
There was nowhere left to ride.
"You do not know these forests," Gen continued. "You have no food, no escort and you carry an infant barely hours old."
He extended his hand toward me.
"Come back to me."
His blue eyes never leaving mine.
"Bring me my son."
Then, after a pause, his voice softened. "And let me bring you both home."
I tightened my hold on the child now that he quieted again. His tiny face buried against my chest as I soothed him, beneath Marcus's cloak.
"I will not," I said.
Gen sighed, almost wearily. "You continue to test my patience."
"No," I answered, meeting his gaze without wavering. "I simply want to understand."
A faint crease formed between his brows.
"You speak of him as though he is your son." My eyes drifted briefly to the innocent, sleeping infant. "Yet you have not once asked whether he is healthy, whether he was born safely."
Gen remained silent.
"You let his mother wander into your enemy's camp."
Something flickered across his face.
"Will you even love him?" I continued. "Just as a real father would his son. After all, he still carries your blood, whether you like it or not."
His jaw tightened.
"No," Gen said, and for the first time his certainty sounded almost desperate. "It was supposed to be you. You were supposed to be the one giving me a son."
I stared at him.
"You were the one the gods sent to me," he said. "Think what our child could become. He would bear my name, inherit my power and one day rule Rome itself."
A horse shifted uneasily somewhere behind him, the rider glancing briefly into the trees.
It was only for a second.
I shook my head. "You are insane."
His blue eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps," he said. "But that part is done. My wife is dead, the child is secured, and all I needed was to wait for my men to do their job."
His gaze held mine, unblinking.
"Your precious husband will be dead soon enough. Then there will be nothing left between us."
A faint, almost satisfied smile touched his mouth.
"You and I will be free to be together. With our son."
A silence stretched between us.
Then somewhere behind the line of Britons, a raven burst from the trees. Its wings beat noisily into the sky. Several horses lifted their heads, as their riders straightened.
One rider frowned, another turned slightly in his saddled, then settled again.
Gen's attention never left me, though his gaze flicked once toward the trees, where he had already counted the missing riders.
"What you are trying to do," he said, his voice sharpening as he straightened in his saddle, drawing his sword in one fluid motion, "will not work, Elena."
I shifted his son higher against my chest, tightening Marcus's cloak around him.
"Oh?" I replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "And what exactly am I trying to do?"
"You tell me."
"You already said it yourself, I am powerless." I glanced deliberately at the child nestled against me. "I have no sword. No idea how to wield a weapon. I barely even knew how to ride a horse."
His jaw flexed, before his gaze drifted slowly through the surrounding trees.
The forest had grown too quiet.
No birds, no insects.
Only the restless shifting of horses beneath nervous riders.
His sword lifted a fraction. "You always were a terrible liar."
His gaze swept across the tree line. "They have stopped the forest from breathing." Then he returned his eyes to mine, pointing his sword at me. "And you've kept mine fixed on you long enough."
"Take the child!" he commanded across the clearing.
The Briton riders nearest to me dug their heels into their horses.
I hugged the child close to my chest, covering him with my body bracing for the attack but it never came.
They had barely covered a few strides, when a sharp whistle split through the air.
One rider jerked violently as a Roman arrow buried itself in his throat.
Another pitched sideways from his saddle before he had even managed to draw his sword.
A third cried out only long enough for a Roman spear to strike him squarely in the chest.
The remaining horses reared in panic.
"Ambush!" someone shouted.
The forest exploded into chaos.
Roman legionaries poured from the trees, their shields locked and swords drawn. They struck without a battle cry, cutting down the outermost riders before the Britons could form a line.
Steel rang against steel, as horses screamed.
Men shouted in both Latin and English.
Within moments, the fight had collapsed into chaos.
The only Britons left between Gen and I were the handful of warriors who had been closest to us all along.
Gen charged toward me, swinging his sword at the Roman closest to us, cutting down a few as I twisted my horse around, ready to flee from him.
At the same moment, another voice thundered across the battlefield.
"Gwrgenau!"
Marcus emerged from the trees and launched himself at Gen, dragging him down to the ground. Quintus was at his side, while Roman soldiers fanned out behind them in disciplined ranks.
I watched, my grip tight on the reins as Marcus pointed his sword at Gen's throat.