Page 131 of Vesuvius

Subtly, Felix edged towards the stack. ‘Generous of you, sir.’

‘I’m capable of detecting sarcasm,’ Lassius said. ‘What did you give your name as?’

‘Felix.’

‘Family name?’

Felix nearly admitted he had none. Then an idea struck him. He wouldn’t be able to read the contract on his own to learn exactly what it promised its heir. But maybe he didn’t need to. Not when the manbefore him would be all too willing to boast how much more he knew than Felix.

‘Fortunatus,’ said Felix. ‘That’s what I came to ask after. My father died years ago, and my, ah, older sister, well . . . I lost her in the same explosion that destroyed your northern vineyard.’

‘Julius Fortunatus, you say? I did business with him years ago, though I don’t recall hearing the news of his passing. Nor him having a son.’

‘Adopted,’ Felix lied. ‘I’m afraid I have nowhere to go. Our estate was lost, too.’

He tried to make himself sound pitiful to sell the story – not that he thought Lassius the type to let pity sway him. True to Felix’s prediction, Lassius didn’t soften so much as his mouth turned smug, a man who couldn’t resist letting others know when they had erred.

‘Estates,’ Lassius corrected, drawing out the plural. ‘And unless the fire spread much further than reported, I assume you haven’t lost all of them.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Felix plastered on the sweetest smile he could muster.

The magic phrase.

Lassius’s mouth curled, twice as smug, and turned to face the window. ‘Take your pick of Julius’s holiday homes. Amalfi, Rome. For Jupiter’s sake, the old man might have expanded to Londinium for all I know, if anything remains of it after the disaster that conquest turned out to be. Go there.’

‘Rome,’ Felix said, and with Lassius’s back still turned, he swiped the contract, slipping it neatly into his pocket. ‘Rome could be a nice change.’

*

A dove sang against the dying day when Felix found Loren standing lonely in the courtyard.

Felix once thought Loren would look nice carved in marble, but such stillness now unsettled him. Loren was made for big gestures, sunny smiles, stumbling over his own feet in his perpetual quest to prove a point. Stone didn’t become him, but stone greeted Felix as he crossed the grass.

‘The moon is out.’ Loren frowned at the sky.

‘It does that,’ Felix agreed.

‘During daylight. I’ve always found that odd. I can’t place what it means, an omen of good or bad fortune.’ The frown deepened, and Felix hated it. ‘Perhaps it means nothing at all.’

Felix studied him. They hadn’t spoken for days, though he’d kept watch at a distance. Listened at doors. Tracked Loren drifting lifeless through the property, ankle plastered, leaning heavily on a cane. Saw how he reached to grab a braid that no longer existed.

‘You should be resting,’ Felix said. ‘I’ll help you back to bed.’

Finally, a reaction. Loren bristled, glaring hot. ‘I’m capable on my own.’

He stalked towards the portico, cane indenting the grass, and Felix followed him into the halls, empty but for a pair of servants who averted their eyes and scurried off.

‘You came to say goodbye,’ Loren said, voice laced tight. ‘I can see it on your face.’

Felix wanted to protest that he hadn’t yet looked at his face, but the argument would be in vain. Loren was too good at reading him. ‘I want to. I should.’

‘Will you?’

‘Depends.’

Loren paused a moment before pushing into his room. There he tossed his cane onto the window seat and followed, curling in the corner, arms folded. ‘You remind me of Elias.’

‘You have a type,’ Felix said.

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