Page 58 of Vesuvius

‘By virtue of being an unwed woman with the nerve to own property, I have enemies. And as I said, our visiting senator and I go back a long way.’ Julia’s smiling mask faltered, mouth pressing a touch tootight. ‘Servius is nearly impossible to shake off. It’s enough to drive anyone to the brink. Make them do anything to win.’

‘My lady?’ A shadow passed over the garden, sun dipping behind a bank of clouds.

‘It’s a festival day, Loren. Put Servius from your mind.’

‘Telling me not to worry only makes my worry grow.’

She barked a laugh. ‘Funny how that works, isn’t it? The arrangement you and I now share eases my own burden, at least.’

Their arrangement. Loren should tell her. About his parents, his visions, the responsibilities waiting back home. The truth of where he came from. The helmet. Gods, his secrets strangled him. Fiddling with the ring around his neck, he opened his mouth . . .

A trumpet blare cut him off. All around the garden, people hushed.

‘The procession begins,’ Julia said dryly.

Bloodlust satiated, the real celebration could start.

Sweet smoke from burning beacons filtered over the heads of those walking. Drums beat a steady rhythm, bells chiming along. Priest Umbrius summoned Julia from the throng of spectators as easy as pulling in a fishing net. Julia indulged him, and with Loren on her arm, they marched down the Via dell’Abbondanza near the head of the parade.

‘When we get to the temple,’ Julia muttered, again with her unmoving smile, ‘position yourself next to Umbrius. Offer to help.’

Loren stared. ‘Why?’

‘He’s performing the afternoon augury. If you want to be noticed by anyone, it would be him.’

‘Surely I’m not qualified for that.’

‘You’re sweet when you’re nervous. If I consider you qualified, you are.’

Loren’s mouth pinched.

With clanging and chanting, the crowd shoved into the Forum, where those who hadn’t attended the games had staked an early claim to the festival space. Umbrius tottered up the cracked marble steps of the Temple of Jupiter. Under his breath, he grumbled about bloody renovations and damned earthquakes and spoiled little boys named Numerius Popidius Celsinus, whose father picked the wrong temple to sponsor.

Julia nudged Loren, and with a nervous backward glance, he left her side to join the elite men on Umbrius’s tail.

‘I can see Camilia,’ came a child’s voice from Loren’s side, ‘and she looks like she wants to cut your balls off.’

Loren jumped. Celsi himself had appeared from nowhere, his short legs working hard to keep stride. Chalk powdered his black curls, and dirt smeared his toga. Celsi met Loren’s surprised stare with a haughty lift of his chin, then nodded to a shaded space beneath the portico.

Camilia’s familiar cropped fringe nearly masked her angry brows, but she wasn’t the only one glaring. The Priest of Isis leaned heavily on his walking stick, a deep frown underscoring the grooves in his face. Sera and Shani, at least, were too preoccupied bickering with each other to direct their ire elsewhere.

Loren’s insides turned to lead. He raised his hand halfway, a meagre apology, but the Priest only shook his head. Camilia sneered. She spun on her heel and disappeared, and Loren’s heart dipped.

But against the shame came an indignant spark. The gap the Isis temple workers expected him to fill had never been Loren-shaped. It’d been cut for someone else, long before he came to Pompeii. And when the Priest turned him away, Julia opened her arms.

Everything was poised to fall into place, so long as Loren played the game right, solved the ghost’s riddles, saved the city. He would provewhat his visions were worth, and once Felix left, Loren would sign Julia’s contract.

When his father tried to drag him home, Loren would be untouchable.

‘Look, you’ve made them angry,’ Celsi chirped. ‘How does it feel to be an utter disappointment?’

‘Charmed to see you, too, Celsi.’

The child grabbed Loren’s hand. To anyone else, it might’ve looked sweet, like a pair of brothers. The sharp dig of his nails told the truth.

‘I don’t know why you’re here,’ Celsi said, ‘but you aren’t good enough to be.’

‘Aurelia is right about you. You’re a little beast.’

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