There's a midnight surprise.

You're woken in the dead of night by a rustling noise. You grope for the taper, but it seems to have gone out. Suddenly, you hear the noise again and, squinting into the darkness, you see Betua's pale form.

"Betua? What is it, ****?" you ask, relaxing onto your bed.

"I wanted you to know, Gaius," she says quietly, voice trembling.

"Know what?" For a second it doesn't even register to you that she's called you by your given name. Then suddenly, it flashes into your awareness and you sit up, frowning. "What is this, ****?"

"I'm not your ****." Betua takes another step into the room and falls into a shaft of moonlight from the window. Your mouth goes dry as you see that she's carrying a large kitchen knife. "No one is a **** by nature. No one. And I'm going to prove it."

"Now...now Betua," you say, your own voice starting to shake. "Put that down. Don't be a fool. You're collared; people know you belong to me. They'll kill you."

She laughs, and it has a high, hysterical edge. "Maybe. Maybe they will. But even if I die a **** in the eyes of Rome, I know that in reality I'll die free." She meets your eyes and you see a burning hatred that you only now realize you've mistaken, for some time now, for fear. "Free of you."

As she steps toward you with the knife, you realize that your dreams of taking Rome by storm are about to die with you.

The End.