Rise of the Wolf (Mark of the Thief 2) - Page 60

So with obvious reluctance, I followed Radulf to a quiet area behind the stables. He stood facing me, but not as he usually did -- as a proud general who tried to control everyone and everything around him. No, this time, he looked as uncomfortable as I felt, as if he had never been in this situation before.

"Don't tie yourself to the chariot," he said. "You ignored that advice before. Will you listen to me now?"

I didn't answer. Mostly because I still doubted the wisdom of ever listening to his advice. I wanted to hear what he had to say first.

"You have to win today," Radulf said. "Even if it means Aurelia loses, you must win. I hope you can understand that."

My jaw clenched. "I won't let her lose."

"Listen to me," he said. "You have a responsibility to the magic within you. The gods have trusted you with these powers, and this race has put that at stake. If you lose, the Praetors will take the Malice, they will awaken the Mistress, and they will force you to make a Jupiter Stone. With it, they will control the heavens and destroy even the dust beneath your feet."

"I know what's at stake, sir. More than anyone."

"Aurelia will understand why you have to win."

"I will not ask her to understand! I will not do that to her, especially not for your reasons!" I bit into the words. He didn't care for Aurelia, no more than he cared about me or Livia or anything other than his own personal power.

I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and turned me again to face him. But instead of speaking, he only stared at me as if the thoughts were clear in his heart but hadn't yet become words in his head. As if he didn't even know the right words for what he was feeling. Well, if his feelings were anywhere near mine, I could suggest a few choice words, but he wouldn't like them.

"Let me go," I said, pulling free. "I need to prepare for the race."

"I don't want you to lose," he finally mumbled, then swallowed hard and tried again. "That's not the right way to say it. What I mean, Nic, is that I don't want to lose you."

I stared back at him, not entirely sure of what he meant. If those words had come from nearly anyone else in my life, they would've made sense. But this was Radulf, who had been my enemy and captor, who had all but killed me in the amphitheater, and who had made it clear on more than one occasion that the only reason he never finished the job was because he intended to use me to create a Jupiter Stone.

Surely nothing had changed between us. Or had it? Perhaps sometime in recent days, he had changed.

Radulf shifted his weight, even more uncomfortable than before, if that was possible. "I am your grandfather."

"Don't say that."

"I loved your father more than I thought it was possible to love a person. He was a better son than I could've hoped for, better than I ever deserved. When the Romans invaded Gaul -- on one of their many invasions -- I was taken from him and forced to become a gladiator. At the time, he was just a little younger than you are now. At first I fought for the Romans because I believed if I did well enough, then I could earn enough money for my freedom so that I could get back home to your father. Perhaps you can understand a little of how I felt in those early days."

I understood that perfectly. Finding a way to free my mother and sister had obsessed my thoughts every day I worked in the mines.

"The more I fought, the more the people cheered for me. And after a while, I was no longer fighting for freedom, I was fighting for the people's love, while never loving them in return. Too much praise will do that to you. If you desire praise too much, it becomes your master. Then the Romans made me a soldier and asked me to fight for victory and honor." Radulf's faced softened. "I forgot, Nic. I forgot how to fight for my son, for those I care about. But I remember now."

"My father's gone," I said stiffly.

"I know that." Now Radulf's tone matched his expression. "But he's here again, in you."

I stepped farther back. "I don't remember much about him anymore."

Radulf's eyes moistened, something I hadn't thought was even possible for him. "I remember everything, whenever I look at you," he mumbled. "I already lost your father. And I don't think I could bear it if I lost you in the race today."

Crispus peeked into the clearing where Radulf and I stood. "Nic, they're calling for the racers. We need to go."

"You are my grandson, Nic, and one day I hope to earn the right for you to call me grandfather, willingly. Please do not lose this race."

I stared at Radulf for only a moment, before I nodded at him and then walked away with Crispus. As we passed the stables, I shook my hands to clear the excess magic in them, and the curse tablets that had been nailed to the stables all fell to the ground. With another toss of my hand, they melted into a lead floor. So much for the curses.

"You seem unsteady," Crispus said. "What did Radulf say to you?"

I glanced back in the direction from which we had come. "I'm honestly not sure. I'm beginning to think Radulf might actually care about me. Maybe."

Crispus raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I don't know." My heart began pounding again. "I don't know about anything right now."

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Mark of the Thief Fantasy
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