Page 37 of Vesuvius

His fingers twitched. Tucking the strand back would be one of those simple gestures. Easy for anyone. Steeling his nerves, Felix reached. Then froze, mortified, when Loren caught the movement and turned, eyes big.

‘What are you . . .?’

Felix’s hand dropped back to his lap. ‘You were staring at the water as if considering jumping in. I don’t want to be blamed if you drown yourself.’

‘Stop exaggerating.’ Loren let out a breathless laugh and clambered up, tunic draping back down his legs. ‘Come on, I bet those guards are long gone. Let’s get dinner.’

Boards creaked as Loren dashed away.

Easy for anyone, except Felix.

He felt again the pressure of Pompeii closing in, the sensation of being cornered by more than just guards. The longer he stayed here, listening to Loren talk about gods and heroes, about consequences and a doomed future, and all the things Felix fought to ignore but Loren implored him to confront, the more Felix wondered . . .

He stopped his straying thoughts. That path was littered with broken rules.

One last meal, and he’d leave for good, like he should have that afternoon.

Squinting against the red sunset, apprehension spiking for the night ahead, he followed Loren’s chatter back into the thick of Pompeii.

Chapter X

LOREN

‘If you keep shifting,’ Loren said, dragging bread through his lukewarm bowl of mystery stew, ‘they’ll know you’re hiding something.’

‘I feel eyes on me.’ Felix’s grip on his spoon tightened. ‘It can’t be helped.’

Loren sighed through his nose and straightened. They stood at a tall table near the counter, ignoring the suspicious glare cast by Nicias, the bar’s owner. Loren should’ve insisted they take their food to his room, but Nicias, much like Nonna, had read Felix’s shifty disposition and declared they’d eat in-house that evening. All to spare the risk of Felix stealing a dish.

Elias had a phrase to describe Nicias, but he used words Loren didn’t dare repeat.

The bar teemed with folks catching an early dinner before the night’s festivities. Laughter drifted light, tipsy on the way to drunk. Nicias’s dog thumped his tail against the counter, hoping for dropped scraps, and pots steamed and simmered. Nothing struck Loren as out of place, but Felix’s mood had only worsened since they’d left the docks. Skittish, tense, quick to snap.

‘You had eyes on you all afternoon,’ Loren pointed out. ‘And last night you went gambling.’

‘Around the gambling table, everyone is a criminal. Everyone has something to hide, so we all know better than to look. Here, these are normal people. It’s different.’

‘The world can’t be divided into normal people and criminals. That’s too simplistic.’

‘Right, I’m forgetting the wealthy.’ Felix blinked, unimpressed. ‘And politicians, who straddle wealthy and criminal.’

Loren’s stomach clenched, chasing away hunger. Another assumption, which Felix proved awfully good at making. ‘If it makes you feel better, I’ll be the first to admit my political ambitions are frivolous. But I could do without the jabs.’

‘Frivolous. Like it’s a game.’ Across the table, Felix turned to stone. Gone was the boy who had teased and sniggered and listened to Loren blabber, evaporated with the warm mist curling off cobblestones. ‘At first I didn’t understand the angle you play at. You complain about lacking power but didn’t hesitate to claim me. You live in a brothel yet talk of tutors. I could take coins from your pocket right now, and you wouldn’t notice. Because you don’thaveto notice.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘You belong in a brothel and cheap bars as much as I belong in Pompeii. Which is to say, not at all.’

Loren’s heart skipped. Someone bumped his back as they squeezed past to the bar. Abruptly aware of curious ears, he ducked low and hissed, ‘That isn’t true.’

‘You’d make a great councilman. Doling out pity masked as charity. Did your father teach you that, or did he send you here to learn the art of manipulation?’

‘My parents have nothing to do with my business here.’

‘So they still live? Does Livia know that? Nonna? Or did you weave some sad story, make them feel sorry for you—’

‘Enough,’ Loren snapped. ‘The world isn’t half so despicable. I came to Pompeii to make a difference. To make change. I’m sorryyourfather didn’t teach you decency.’

---