Athenais walked quietly with the bridal party. She tried to look as regal as possible given the company she was in, but her heart was sore and grieving, and she had no real desire to be in the procession. She merely wanted to be alone. To be surrounded by all these Romans so soon after the death of her father was truly galling. Little there was she could do about it but bear it as best she was able to. She certainly wouldn't give them the slightest indication that she was anything other than perfectly content to be in their company or that she was any less royal though her father was departed from this world and no longer king.

As she walked she scanned the mass of bodies in the nearby crowd. Nothing of interest caught her eye until she happened to glance at where the Imperator and his party stood. There she caught sight of the one man in all the world she least desired to see. She looked more closely to be sure. Yes, it was him! The murderer of her father, her king!

As suddenly as fire flaming from a lightning bolt, her anger flared to such a conflagration she thought she would be unable to contain it. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her side, nails digging hard, and she fought within to control the searing heat. "Not here, not now," she told herself firmly. Slowly, she regained control and only the slow upwelling of small drops of blood on her palms betrayed that anything had happened, jewels of pain she'd have been better off without. She kept her fists closed loosely, not wanting any to see the bloody damage she had inflicted upon herself.

Athenais stared at the praetor with a look she hoped he would never forget. Then, with a coolness that belied the fire burning inside her, she turned her head and stared straight ahead. Her eyes followed the women before her and she walked on, no longer watching the crowd.

Yet, still lingering, was the image of that proud young man, standing tall and watching her with puzzled eyes, forever burning in her memory.