Page 138 of Vesuvius

If only Lassius knew, but Felix thought of Servius’s hand twisted sharp in his hair.Never let the man holding the chips know what you care about.Lassius was the same sort as Servius: men only dangerous if you let them open their mouth, let them twist your words into a weapon. The worst blow Felix could deal was to say nothing at all.

He sidestepped, adjusting his packed bag on his shoulder, relishing the way Lassius’s jaw clenched, and carried on. Lassius might hold the chips, but Felix still had dice left to throw.

He started by saying goodbye.

Felix was practised in leaving. Slipping by nightfall from a town he’d never see again. Parting ways with someone he’d known only long enough to dip a hand into their pocket. Leaving behindidentities, memories, possibilities. Staying in the moment, history discarded, future disregarded. Running to live another day.

For the first time in his life, Felix had something to run towards. The idea of it set his nerves on fire. Went against everything he’d learned.

He couldn’t wait to break his own rules.

Loren’s bedroom was empty, curtains trailing wispy in the night breeze from open shutters, but Felix had a hunch when he spotted the glow of a lantern cutting through the dark outside. He slipped through the servants’ exit and followed the light to the stables. The grassy, musty smell of horses met him, animals stirring from their slumber, but Felix had eyes only for the stall at the end. Caesar gave a soft whinny at his approach.

Loren didn’t look over. His cane leaned against the wall, and he smoothed a boar-bristle brush down Caesar’s flank in methodical strokes.

‘Caesar is a silly name,’ he said, voice strained. ‘She’s a mare, and I doubt the emperor would be impressed.’

‘She’s a horse,’ Felix corrected, ‘and if Titus wants a word, he’ll have a chance soon enough.’

Loren fiddled with the saddle strap. ‘I should ask where you plan to go from here, but with the dream I keep having, I think I can guess.’

‘Mercury’s temple,’ Felix said. ‘I want to know the truth.’

‘And you don’t want . . .’ With a shaky breath, Loren screwed his eyes tight. ‘No. I told myself I wouldn’t say that. I knew this was coming, I’ve known all along. My duty is to stay here, and I can’t hold you back.’

‘Loren,’ Felix said, and when Loren looked over at last, Felix cupped his face and closed the gap.

Kissing Loren was like coming home. No – creating home. Loren’s lips were salty, and had Felix not lost sensation in his palms, he would feel that Loren’s cheeks were damp. Hot. He clung to the memory of the last time he’d felt Loren’s skin, back in the grove. Not the same as touching him now, but better than enough. Felix poured everything hehad learned of love into the press of mouths, the exchange of breath: he wanted Loren, wanted him still.

Loren’s breathing hitched, and he pushed hard into Felix, desperate, begging, their noses knocking. When he pulled back, he looked brittle as a fallen leaf.

‘I’m going to Rome,’ Felix murmured, ‘because I know what I’m running to. When you figure out the same for you, meet me there.’

He moved Loren’s hand to rest on Caesar’s saddlebag and hoped – prayed – he’d understand. Not goodbye for ever. Just for now.

The sun hadn’t yet risen when Felix turned by foot onto the main road, but the streak of red on the horizon announced it wouldn’t stay dark long. Stolen wine clanked in the satchel he had nabbed from Loren’s wardrobe – an old trick, but one that would fetch enough profit for passage on a merchant’s wagon headed north. This all felt full circle in a way Felix hadn’t anticipated. He thought this chapter of his life had begun in the Temple of Apollo, when the helmet snared his attention, but perhaps it had truly started the night he first stole from Lucius Lassius.

By degrees, the sky brightened, shades shifting from red and navy to a hazy pink and lavender dawn. Felix took the path that circled broad around the valley before snaking into the mountains. Gradually, the flat road switched to an incline, and he kept his pace slow.

Savouring.

A clatter of hooves disrupted the still morning.

‘Wait!’

Felix turned, heart stuttering with hope he hadn’t dared allow. Caesar charged towards him up the hill, kicking up a cloud, her rider’s glare furious and beautiful. She skidded, slowed, then clomped in a circle until still.

‘I made a mistake,’ Loren called, swinging from the saddle as gracefully as his plastered ankle allowed. His face was streaky, eyes red but bright. ‘As a boy, I was fixated on finding an Achilles, a man I’dfollow to the ends of the earth, into death. But I was wrong. You’re no Achilles, Felix.’

A shocked laugh escaped Felix’s chest. ‘Did you run after me just for an insult?’

Loren’s chest heaved. ‘Achilles wouldn’t sneak off, leaving only a chance clue behind.’

In his hand, he clutched the contract, and Felix’s delight grew. ‘Whether you found it today or months from now, I knew eventually you would. And you’d know. All Julia’s properties still belong to you, but I needed you to make the choice to leave on your own.’

But Loren wasn’t smiling. His glare deepened, and finally it dawned on Felix that perhaps he’d erred. That he’d only managed to stir fresh guilt. His first ‘easy’ gesture gone very, very wrong.

‘I thought I dropped this during our escape. Celsi gave it to me.’ Loren shook the pages. ‘In the courtyard. I didn’t realise what it was. What he tried to do, even after I treated him so poorly. He resented me from the moment I took his position in the temple. But I resented him, too, for being what I wasn’t.’

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