Page 100 of Vesuvius

A lump lodged in Loren’s throat. With one neat move, Julia had reached into his chest and torn out all the insecurities he harboured. Had drawn the same conclusion he long feared. He was a burden. His visions, his hopes, his love were all too big for anyone else to hold, and he was selfish for asking it.

She crossed the room in three ruthless strides. They were the same height, but she still managed to look down her nose at him, make him shrink. ‘Fools. All of them. You’re remarkable on your own merit, Loren. There’s no one more suited to be my heir, no one in the world who can secure my line and protect Pompeii from Servius’s influence. This is mutual insurance on both our parts. I need you as much as you need me.’

‘You can’t mean that,’ Loren whispered.

‘I’m offering you a life on your own terms. I’m offering an ear that will listen,’ Julia pressed. ‘When your father comes to Pompeii, he’ll face the entire council before he can get to you. That I can promise.’

Loren thought about what waited for him outside this room. Elias’s cajoling, Livia’s pity, a position with the Temple of Isis stripped from him. No tie to the city to stop his father dragging him home. An empty bedroom. More visions he couldn’t make sense of. No friends.

No Felix.

He turned from the door.

The parchment waited on the table, outlining their agreement. Loren skimmed the language transferring estate ownership, stretching from the home in Pompeii to holiday villas in Rome and Stabiae, into his name. These contracts weren’t uncommon. His father protested them, believed blood a stronger bond than ink, but the rest of the Roman world had no grounds to question their validity. Every estate needed an heir. If you couldn’t make one, you found one.

Julia passed him a stylus and ink.

Stop, said a scratching little voice. Loren wanted to believe he knew the source, but he wasn’t convinced Ghost-Felix was capable of caring.Don’t make this decision with your heart so raw.

She wants me, Loren thought louder.She, if no one else.

The ghost flitted away.

A scrawl of the stylus. He dipped his signet ring into puddled wax and pressed his seal beside his signature. When he finished, he slid the sheet aside so Julia could copy him. Scribble. Dip. Press. All too easy, too quick. Wax cooled, and neither spoke for a long moment.

‘Do you think your father will be angry?’ Julia said.

‘Anger requires feeling beyond indifference. I’m not convinced he’s capable.’

The ink tipped over. Julia scrambled to rescue the contract from the rapidly expanding black spill, clutching it to her chest as though a newborn. Loren grabbed for a cloth tucked under the tray of old food.

He froze. The plate was rattling of its own volition.

Across the room, a shelf collapsed and crashed against tile. Wood splintered. A jug on the windowsill toppled with a clatter, spraying deep red wine. Outside, something heavy, bricks or tile, broke loose and shattered.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. By Felix replacing the helmet, this was meant to stop.

Wasn’t it?

‘No,’ Loren whispered. ‘No, no.’ He reached for Julia, to hold her forearm as proof he wasn’t alone, but she dodged and ducked below the desk.

‘Under here!’

The roar of the shaking earth nearly drowned her voice. Loren stumbled over rocking ground to huddle beside her. He gripped the table leg tight as he could, knuckles white. A crack in the wall split a fresco of a politician buying votes with bread. Paint chipped from the plaster in a puff of dust. Loren blocked it from his lungs with his sleeve and screwed his eyes tight.

The quake lasted an eternity.

Until eternity ended. A final lurch sent his stomach rolling.

Julia panted in his ear. ‘Are you hurt?’

Loren shook his head.

He crawled through the wine puddle and vomited into the empty jug, throat burning. Julia spoke again through a dim filter, maybe expressing disgust, maybe scolding him. Loren couldn’t process. Numb, he rose on unsteady legs.

This broken place belonged to him now, per the contract Julia still cradled.

Loren swayed once. Then he bolted for the door.

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